Chapter Twenty-Two

The Talk

When I told Poppa that I needed some space after her pop-up at the gym and then our lunch date, I was really just buying time. As much as I loved that woman, love didn’t mean shit if respect wasn’t present. She’d sounded so earnest sitting across from me at the restaurant with the bill of her fitted at that forty-five-degree angle, but how could I trust that?

I was going to have to make a decision sooner than later, but until then I just tried to focus on other things. Amani was with his father this week, but Samir had called and explained that Sanai had a bad case of colic. While he and Morgan were doing everything they could, the kids were miserable with the crying baby in the house. Their solution was to relocate the bigger kids until the baby was better. LeeLee and Pooh had gone to their grandmother’s house, but Amani said he wanted to come home. It was a perfect excuse for me to decline Poppa’s texted offer to bring over dinner.

I just needed more time.

It was after nine when Samir showed up with my baby draped over his shoulder. Amani was already in his pajamas and passed out like a rag doll. He didn’t stir, not once, as his father laid him in his bed and pulled the covers up over him. I stayed in the living room, waiting for Samir to come back out before heading for the door. On a normal day, we might kick it for a little bit before he headed out, but with Morgan home alone with Sanai, I didn’t want to keep him longer than necessary.

We reached the door and I hugged Samir to my side before twisting the handle, but instead of releasing me so that I could open the door, Samir stared at me.

“What is it?” I asked, confused by his sudden silence.

“What’s up with you and Cyn?”

Ah, hell. I should’ve known he was going to go there but because Samir didn’t usually have anything to say about the people I dated, I thought I was in the clear. Blowing out a breath, I spun on my heel and stalked over to the couch, shoving my face in a cushion.

I heard the turn of the lock on the door before Samir plopped down next to me and pulled the cushion out of my hands.

“Cute, but that’s not an answer.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whined.

He shrugged. “Tough.”

Pouting, I folded my arms across my chest. “I forgot how mean you could be.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “And I forgot how big of a baby you could be when dealing with something you would rather avoid.” He let off a low whistle. “I just know Cyn has her hands full with your spoiled ass.”

Well, that was a jolt to my spine, making me sit ramrod straight as I glared at him. “I am not spoiled, but even if I was, it wouldn’t have anything to do with her!”

“Hmm,” he murmured. “That’s a significantly different tone than the one you were singing the last time we talking about her. What changed? Relax that tension in your shoulders and catch me up to speed.”

I deflated, blowing out the indignant breath I’d sucked in. Samir was right—I hadn’t told him the bad of me and Poppa, only the good, which was clearly a mistake on my part. So, I gave him the rundown of everything that had transpired. When I finished, his lips were pursed and he stared at me through narrowed eyes.

“But y’all talked, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, a couple of days ago. We went to lunch.”

“Hmm.”

Frowning, I cocked my head. “What?”

“What what?”

“You said ‘hmm.’ What was that about?”

He raised his hands up. “I’m just processing what you told me. That’s it.”

When he didn’t elaborate, my frown deepened. “Samir.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “You sure you want to hear my thoughts? ’Cause you know I won’t hold back.”

I paused, considering his warning. It didn’t take me long.

“Lay it on me.”

Nodding, he grabbed both of my hands in his and leveled me with knowing look.

“Cyn isn’t your parents, JuJu. She’s not gonna abandon you because you’re not who she wants you to be.”

My throat tightened. He didn’t pull any punches, going straight for the jugular and hitting his mark with one swing.

“But she did!” I insisted. At least...that’s what it felt like.

He squeezed my hand. “No, she didn’t. Is what she said and how she was moving fucked up? Absolutely. But I don’t think her dragging her feet to define what the two of you were doing, or flippantly calling you straight instead of bisexual, is on the same level as your dad putting you on the street when you were twelve because your mama caught you kissing a girl after soccer practice. And I don’t think it warranted you excommunicating yourself from everyone she’s related to.”

I shook my head. He was wrong there.

“No, I had to. As soon as she told them what was going on with us, they were gonna pick a side. Why the hell would I wait for them to pick her and kick me to the curb when I could just leave before any of that happens?”

“Oof!” He cringed, ducking his head for a brief moment before returning his gaze to mine. It was so full of sympathy that it made my chest hurt. “JuJu, them people weren’t gonna throw you away. They love you. I’ve seen that love with my own eyes.”

Again, I shook my head. “I mean, yeah, they love me, but that love only extends as long as I’m with Poppa.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I—” I paused, because, while my instinct was to immediately confirm, there was a second instinct, a less bold but equally sure instinct that said, “No.” No, I didn’t really believe that the love they had for me hinged on my relationship with Poppa, but I didn’t know for sure, and the lack of conviction was enough for me.

I just... I couldn’t risk it.

Seeing my internal battle, Samir shook his head.

“Let me ask you something else. Did you tell Cyn how you felt when y’all talked?”

Pressing my lips into a flat line, I gave him a blank stare. All he did was laugh.

“I take that as a no.”

“I said we talked.”

He ignored me. “JuJu, I know firsthand how you’ll retreat instead of saying what’s going on inside your head. Expressing yourself could save you a lot of stress.”

“Samir—”

He lifted his hands up as if he could hear my thoughts and wanted to protect himself against them. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive her—or even take her back. I’m just saying that you take things to the extreme when sometimes a softer hand is what’s necessary.”

Huffing a breath out through my nose, I stretched my legs out in front of me and leaned back against the sofa. There was a tiny, slight possibility that he had a point, but...

“You gotta be with someone first in order to take them back.”

Samir snorted, the goofy sound pulling my eyes from the ceiling and over to him.

“Be for real,” he laughed. “Y’all were so damn together that I already had my stepparent speech ready.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the shriek his words incited.

“You’re a fucking nut, you know that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and you’re stubborn as hell, and water is wet.” Tugging on my hand, he pulled me over to him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders when I dropped my head onto his chest. “I get it, JuJu. Cutting ties is how you protect yourself. You had to do that to survive and it’s your nature now, but babe, hear me out. You’re not in survival mode anymore.”

My heart rate sped up and I felt those unshed tears gear up to make an appearance.

“It isn’t you and your granny against the world anymore. You have community. Even if things with Cyn don’t pan out, her family isn’t your only family. You have me, and ’Mani, Morgan, Pooh, and LeeLee. And you already know how my family has been claiming you as their own since well before we got together—that hasn’t changed in three years and there’s nothing you can do about it. Not only that, you also have your Sanity fam. Mal, and Mercedes, and all of the girls up there. You have people, JuJu. You aren’t an island, never have been, and never will be.”

Wrapping my fingers into his t-shirt, I buried my face in his chest and sobbed. Samir had peeled back all of my layers and I was raw and exposed, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to be in a very long time. We’d known each other so long that I’d forgotten how well Samir knew me. In the blink of an eye, everything I’d known had been taken from me, and although my grandmother had swept in and saved me, I still went through life waiting for the other shoe to drop. The problem with that is I never allowed myself to fully enjoy anything because I was always waiting for the moment I lost it.

I was scared out of my mind, and he’d clocked that.

He didn’t have to say it, but I know that the main reason he recognized it is because I did the same thing with him. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time, but after we split and I was able to examine what happened to us, and why we had to split, I saw my part in it. Just like Cyn had been trying to cushion herself because of past hurts, I’d been doing the same. It was wild that Samir had made that connection and I hadn’t, but I understood.

He let me cry, rubbing my back and murmuring words of support as I soaked through the thin cotton he wore. When I finished, I sat up and reached for the box of tissue on the end table.

“How you feel?” he asked, elbows on his knees as he peered at me, somber-faced and eyes searching.

“Better,” I answered honestly. That cry was long overdue and had unlocked a few things that I’d been holding on to when I should have let them go.

“Good.” He tilted his chin toward the back. “Go splash some water on your face. You’re looking a lil snotty and puffy.”

“Rude ass,” I laughed as I went to my room to do just that.

I was gone less than two minutes, but as soon as I reentered the living room, there was a soft knock on the front door. Brows lifted, I glanced at Samir and shrugged before I went to the door. The moment I looked through the peephole, I gasped and stepped back from the door, my eyes immediately refilling with tears.

Poppa stood on the other side of the door, her hands in her pockets as she stared right into the tiny fishbowl window. I knew she couldn’t see me but it felt like we’d made eye contact.

“What are you doing?” Samir questioned. I turned around to see him giving me a crazy look.

“It’s Poppa.”

Twisting his lips to the side, he dropped his neck forward. “Okay...” He trailed off, as if I wasn’t making sense. “Are you gon’ let her in or...”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “What is she doing here?!”

He blinked at me slowly. “I’m pretty sure you could ask her that if you...you know...opened the door.”

Blowing out a breath, I shook my head.

“You do it.”

To his credit, Samir didn’t roll his eyes or call me a baby. Instead, he stood from the couch and walked over to the door. When he pulled it open, he slapped hands with Poppa and stepped back to let her into my apartment. All of the nerves that I’d been grappling with started beatboxing and breakdancing in my stomach and chest when I set eyes on her. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to feel, but I did know that seeing her made me happy. I didn’t know why she was here, or what made her show up at this particular moment, but her presence made me happy. Even if I was still trying to cling to my anger, seeing her brought me a sense of peace and joy.

Her eyes swept over me, taking me in, eating me up, setting me on fire with the undeniable emotion I saw reflected there.

“What’s up, Jucee?”

I dragged my tongue across my lip in an attempt to still my heart before offering a soft “Hey.”

The single word was supposed to be nonchalant and easy, but if the amused look that Samir bounced between me and Poppa was any indication, it sounded as breathy as it had felt when I said it.

“Aight, that’s my cue.” The clap of his hands at the end of his words broke the stare-off that Poppa and I were engaging in.

It dawned on me that he was leaving, and that’s when those nerves in my belly began to audition for the stage play adaptation of Breakin’ 2. Turning to him, I started to ask if he could stay a little while longer. And because Samir knew me as well as he did, he cut me off before I could even begin. Stepping in front of me, he framed my face with his hands and peered down at me.

“I love you, Juleesa, and because I love you, I’m not going to stand by and watch you let something that is so right for you die without a fight. You have to talk to her—you have to tell her how this hurt you and what you need going forward for this work. What you have with Cyn is a good thing and it makes you happy. She makes you happy, and when you’re happy, my son is ecstatic. That means I’m even more invested in this working out.”

I laughed wetly. I couldn’t even be mad at that logic.

“I love you too, ’Mir.”

He smirked. “Of course you do. Now, talk to your woman so y’all can fix this.” Releasing my face, he pecked my forehead and then turned to Cyn. They slapped hands and he pulled her into a hug. When she nodded, I realized he was saying something to her, but it was over quickly, and they separated and Samir was out the door in the blink of an eye.

And then it was just me and Poppa standing in my living room.

“Can I—”

“Do you—”

We both started speaking at the same time, and it was so stupid and awkwardly cliché that I cringed and then immediately busted out laughing. She joined in and thankfully moved from by the front door, coming closer to me.

“You go,” I insisted, waving a hand at her.

She nodded and spread her arms. “Can I hug you?”

I bit my lip. My first instinct was to be upset that she felt she even had to ask, but that was silly. Poppa was only respecting the boundaries that I’d laid out two weeks ago. In lieu of speaking, I stepped into her arms and pressed my face into her shoulder. Wrapping her arms around my back, she squeezed me so tightly that I immediately teared up—not because it hurt. It didn’t. But because of what she was saying with that embrace.

When her lips touched my temple, I lost it, full-on sobbing as if I hadn’t already cried buckets with Samir just fifteen minutes prior. How I had any saline left was a wonder.

Poppa clung to me, kissing me and humming a melody I didn’t recognize, but was soothed by nonetheless. We stood there, in the tri-state area where my foyer, living room, and kitchen met, hugging and rocking from side to side, and it was so pure and nourishing and healing. Without a word being exchanged between the two of us, I felt refreshed, renewed. And when we finally separated, Poppa met my eyes as she grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“Yeah?” One word that translated into several questions. I heard each and every one of them.

So, I nodded. Because yeah.

I was okay. I was better than okay. Now, I could say the things that I’d been hiding inside of my heart without anxiety about what would come after. Now, I knew that even if I lost Poppa, I wouldn’t lose everything. I might lose her, but if I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t just to make her feel comfortable staying with me, then I would lose myself, and that was the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose.

So, I nodded again. And then I pulled out of her grasp, and then her embrace. And then I took a couple of steps back, putting some space in between us, giving myself some breathing room to say what I needed to say. It wasn’t much, but it was a lot.

“Poppa, I’m bisexual. I don’t know why we never really discussed this before now, but it’s not something I’m ashamed of, and it’s not something that I hide. It is who I am and it is not going to change.”

“I know—”

Shaking my head, I held up a hand. I couldn’t let her interrupt me because then I would get wrapped up in her words and forget to finish sharing my own. This was important.

“Let me finish. I’m not going to waste my time defending myself to you because I’m worth more than that. You’ve known me for three years, and if you suddenly think that I am capable of deceit and abuse solely due to the fact that my most significant romantic relationship before you was with a man, then it is you who isn’t worthy of me. I’m human, so I’m in no way perfect, but being bi is not and has never been one of my flaws.”

So, get it right or get left!

I didn’t say that last part out loud though, because as much as I believed in what I was saying, I didn’t want Poppa to go. I loved her so damn much that if she chose to stop fuckin’ with me because of this, it would crush me. It wouldn’t end me, ’cause I’m a survivor, but I’d be down atrocious for a while.

I took a breath and blew it out through my nose. “I need you to respect me enough to not only acknowledge all parts of me, but to not treat me like shit out of habit because you’re insecure. You let that girl kiki all in your face, hugging and kissing all on you in front of me when you didn’t even want her, but you hugged and kissed on me in private, and acted like nothing had changed between us in front of everyone else. That was so disrespectful and it hurt!” My voice cracked on that last word and I squeezed my eyes shut to stave off the tears that threatened to crash the party. When I felt like I was safe from another crying spate, I reopened my eyes and met Poppa’s gaze.

“Can I speak now?” she asked, her voice low.

Having said my piece, I nodded and wiped the sweat from my brow.

“Baby,”she began, and my knees went to trembling. She was playing dirty already because why did she have to use that tone? Why did she lead with baby?

“I’m sorry that I was too scared of change to lean into my feelings for you. I’m sorry I didn’t shut things down with Jackie from the moment I realized that she couldn’t make my heart skip several beats the way it did just from me looking at you. I’m sorry I allowed that fear to manifest as some hateful shit coming out of my mouth, instead of just owning up to how things had evolved for us.

“Part of me wishes I could go back and stop myself from saying that dumb shit, but another part of me knows that wouldn’t change anything because, even though I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, my thinking was still fucked up.” She paused, dropping her eyes to the ground and shaking her head before lifting her gaze back to mine. The passion I saw in those dark brown depths stole the breath from my lungs.

“I see you for who you are and there isn’t a damn thing about you that I would change—from the color of your toenail polish, to your sexuality, to the way you like your food to touch. All of that combined is part of what makes you, Juleesa Marie Jones, my best friend and the love of my life. You’re my metronome—when shit feels off pitch and out of key, I know all I need is a few minutes in your presence to get my life back in rhythm. You’re that exactly as you are right now, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you have to defend yourself. I don’t know what I have to do to make up for the way I hurt you, but I want you to know that I’m prepared to spend whatever time necessary trying to figure it out.”

Though my heart swelled at the sincerity in her voice, my face fell at her last sentence. “That’s not the type of life that I want, though.”

Poppa’s face scrunched and she tilted her head to the side. Confusion was written all over her. I hurried to finish my thought before she could jump to conclusions.

“We’re talking about this right now because I don’t want to spend the rest of my time with you rehashing this.”

Her confusion melted away and was replaced with that undeniable emotion again.

Undeniable, not to be confused with unnamed.

Poppa loved me. Of that, I was never unsure. She told me with her words and showed me with her actions.

She closed the distance between us and linked her fingers with mine, holding our hands at our sides.

“Making sure that you’re good, even if it’s ten years from now, isn’t rehashing. It’s not stirring up old shit. What it is—what it will be—is me checking in. Just like you check to see if I ate, I want to check to make sure you’re still comfortable and that I haven’t unknowingly hurt you. That’s the love I have for you.” She lifted our hands up between us and stepped closer. “I never want you to think that I’m too comfortable to recalibrate.”

A sob tore through me. I dropped my head, closing my eyes against the tears. Poppa placed my hands on her chest and pulled me even closer, letting my forehead rest against her shoulder, interlocking her fingers behind my back.

“I meant what I said at lunch the other day.” Her words were soft but sure, spoken directly into my ear. “Unlearning the little shit hasn’t been an overnight thing for me, but I’m committed to creating a safe space for you. I love who you are when you’re free and happy, and I want you to be able to be that woman with me.”

I inhaled and released a deep, shuddering breath. Poppa’s fingers dug into me. I pulled back and met her gaze, allowing her to see into the depths of my soul as I spoke.

“I want to be that woman with you too.”