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)
“Yasmen,” Clint greets her. “Morning. We were just telling Josiah what a great job you did with Food Truck Friday. Everyone on the association is glad to have you back.”
Brock is one of Atlanta’s most prominent architects, but Clint owns Fancy, a pet grooming shop on Sky Square, and is an active member of the Skyland Association.
“Thank you.” Her smile is stiff when she shifts the yoga mat slung over one shoulder by its strap.
“I guess the association’s next big event is Screen on the Green?” Brock asks.
“Yup, next week,” she says.
“Uh, here you go.” I carefully hand the baby back to Brock. “She’s gorgeous. Congratulations again.”
“Thanks, man.” Brock takes the baby and holds her against his shoulder, patting her little back. “We’re taking her and Hershey for a walk down at the dog park. You and Otis wanna come with?”
“Maybe another time,” I tell him. “I’m taking the kids to the Old Mill.”
Hershey yelps and tugs at the leash, straining toward the steps.
“Looks like someone is eager to get out of here,” Clint says. He carries the stroller down the steps, Brock trailing behind with Lilian in his arms. “Good seeing you, Josiah. I know you’re around all the time, but we’ve been busy. Our anniversary is next week, and we want to make it in for some of Vashti’s famous shrimp and grits.”
“We still need to find a sitter,” Brock reminds him.
“I can watch Lilian,” Yasmen offers.
All the air is sucked out of the silence that follows her offer, and it’s like we’re standing in a vacuum, frozen.
“Yeah,” Clint says, uncertainty dragging out the word. “If you want…if you’re sure?”
Brock and Clint know how everything fell apart. They saw firsthand how it affected Yasmen.
“I can watch her,” Yasmen says, splitting a level stare between the two men. “Really. I’ll be fine.”
Her last words, an acknowledgment that there was a time when she wouldn’t have been fine watching a baby, seem to lift the net of anxiety that fell over the two porches.
“That’s awesome, Yas. Thanks,” Clint replies with a smile. “We better get on, but we’ll talk deets.”
“For sure.” Yasmen meets my eyes for half a second before looking away.
I walk next door and up the steps to the front porch, where she stands. I want to ask if she’s sure about babysitting, but her shoulders tense as if braced for a blow because she knows me well enough to assume that’s the question I would ask.
Instead I stroll over to the swing and sit. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know Yasmen so well. We both have these tells, secret passageways to our thoughts that took us years to find. No one knows her better than I do, and she knows me better than anyone else. So when she sinks her teeth into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip, like she’s doing now, it means she’s working up to a subject she’s reluctant to discuss.
“Kids ready?” I ask, giving her the chance to say what she needs to say. Otis puts his head in my lap, and I indulge him with a stroke at the sleek fur of his neck.
“Uh, yeah.” Yasmen slides the yoga mat off her shoulder and leans against the porch rail. “But there’s something I want to talk to you about first.”
“What’s up?”
“We need to get things under control with Deja. She skipped English yesterday.”
“You sure?” I ask, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like Day.”
“She’s been less and less concerned about her grades. It’s the first month of school and I’m already worried. She was an honor student before.”
“She’s been through a lot, Yas. We all have.”
“I don’t need you telling me what we’ve been through. What Deja’s been through.”
I stiffen, my hand stilling in Otis’s fur. “I wasn’t trying to tell you anything. I’m just saying maybe we cut her some slack because things haven’t been easy.”
“There’s cutting her some slack, and then there’s being irresponsible as a parent.”
My left eyebrow inches up, and I wonder if she remembers that’s my tell that she’s provoking me. “You saying I’m an irresponsible father?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Yasmen drops the yoga mat and links her hands at the nape of her neck. “I’m just saying we can’t ignore her skipping class because we’ve had a hard time.”
“You’re sure she skipped?”
“Yeah, she said she was watching a broadcast of some natural hair event.”
“The hell?”
“Like I said, you should talk to her.”
“What’d she say when you talked to her?”
“Just that I overreacted and that she won’t do it again.”
“Well, if she skipped, there should be consequences. Maybe no posting to social media for a week?”
“That sounds good. We have access to everything. We can shut it down.”
“I can tell her today.”
“You sure we don’t need to do it together? United front kinda thing?”
“Considering how strained things have been between you two, it might go better coming from me.”