Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Is Kassim nervous?”
“Am I nervous is probably a better question.” I pause to lean a hip against the counter. “How did I not know he was so hyperfocused on death? And on losing his family? I’m with him every day, and he’s never mentioned anything like what his teacher said is in his journal.”
“It’s not surprising when you think about it. Do kids really go around confessing their deepest fears to their parents unprompted?” Hendrix shrugs. “Maybe some do, but I didn’t when I was a kid. Pat yourself on the back for doing this now instead of condemning yourself for not knowing sooner that he needed it.”
“You’re right. It’s made such a huge difference for me, and I’m really glad Kassim’s experiencing it so young. Maybe if he needs it when he’s older, it won’t hold the stigma it does for so many men.”
“Especially Black men. My cousin Bilail has been through so much crap all his life. Divorced parents. Molested by his uncle. Mom was an addict, but you think he’s talking to someone about his feelings?” Hendrix shakes her head and turns matte red lips down at the corners. “No, ma’am. That man’s twisted tight as a can of biscuits and can’t figure out for the life of him why all his relationships have an expiration date before they even start.”
“Speaking of Black men and therapy,” I say, loading more bottles into the cooler. “Did I mention Kassim is going because Josiah said he would?”
Hendrix’s mug of coffee hovers at her lips and her brows fly high. “Wasn’t he dead set against it when you guys were together?”
“Yeah.” I bend to stuff the last of the sports drinks into the cooler. “He always said it wouldn’t do him any good, but he apparently thought him going would convince Kassim, so he will. Just makes you wonder.”
“Wonder what?” Hendrix asks.
I glance up, meeting her probing stare for a millisecond before turning my back on her to pull the last of the yogurt from the fridge. “Nothing. So this hair is apparently called Kinky Curly or something like that. Deja—”
“Wonder what, Yas? Why Josiah wouldn’t go for you?”
My hand’s still halfway between the refrigerator and the cooler, and I have trouble meeting her eyes again when I turn back, but I do.
“Maybe. Not even for me, but for himself when I suggested it. He wouldn’t even entertain it, but he volunteered when this came up with Kassim. And I guess I wonder what changed.”
I huff out a laugh and close the cooler. “Not that he expects to get anything out of it. He still thinks it’s useless, but at least he’s willing.”
“Therapy can be intimidating, and folks aren’t always ready when we want them to be. They’re ready when they’re ready. Josiah thinks he’s going because of Kassim, but maybe it’s that deep down he’s just finally ready. It might surprise him. He may get in there and learn a lot about himself. The right therapist can change everything.”
“Yeah, and the wrong one sometimes changes nothing.” I roll my eyes. “Thank God I finally found Dr. Abrams.”
Footsteps charging down the stairs cut the conversation off, and I’m kind of relieved. I don’t want to think about Josiah finally going to therapy, and how that could have impacted what happened with us, much less talk about it.
“Hey, Aunt Hen,” Deja says, her smile bright and open. “Thank you for taking me today.”
“It’s no problem.” Hendrix stands to dump the last of her coffee in the sink and rinses the mug.
“And you really think this place will have the hair I need?” Deja asks.
“I already called and confirmed they do,” Hendrix says, her smile only slightly smug.
“Eeeeep!” Deja’s hands fly in the air approximating a hallelujah. “I’ve been looking all over, and there’s this passion braids challenge I want to do next week, and I have to use this hair.”
“Well, I got you,” Hendrix says. “And there’s a place near the shop called Ruby’s. Best neck bones in the city.”
“Neck bones?” Deja’s skepticism is palpable.
“Wayminit.” Hendrix sets her fists on her hips. “You mean to tell me your parents own a soul food restaurant and you never had neck bones?”
“Not on our menu.” I laugh, grabbing my purse from the stool. “Byrd hated them, and Vashti doesn’t do them either.”
Hendrix links her arm through Deja’s. “Well, you gon’ learn today. We’ll have them for lunch if you want.”
“Okay!” Deja nods, her space buns bobbing on either side of her head.
“What time you want her back, Yas?” Hendrix asks.
Deja looks directly at me for the first time, her smile fading. I’m like the pin that pops every balloon for her.
“Um, whenever you guys are done,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thank you again for helping out.”
Hendrix glances between Deja and me, her smile dimming. “You my girl. You already know it’s no big.”