Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“You might be right, but I don’t remember the starting line. I imagine it was a bunch of things that led me here. I feel some type of way. Because of that, I’ve started being unreliable. Fickle with it. That’s not even in my nature. I stand by my word, and an appointment is my word. I’ve canceled a few of my appointments recently, and I am not looking forward to them as much anymore.”
“Appointments?”
With her fingertips, she chased a rush of prickly heat that crawled up the back of her neck. “You know, the online stuff I told you that I do.”
“Showin’ ya milk and cookies?” They looked at one another and burst out laughing. Just then, ‘Pride,’ by Kendrick Lamar, played from someone’s parked car a few houses down. For a split second, she recalled hearing that same song while feeling lonely in a crowd of people.
“Yeah… that. Chocolate milk and chocolate chip cookies. No nuts.” She smirked.
“You feel guilty?”
“No, not really.” She reached down and ran her hand over the top of her white sneaker. A pair of Pumas with gold trim. “I never felt ashamed about it, and still don’t. It’s art. A performance. So, it’s not guilt. I just… I just don’t want to do it right now.” She offered a weak smile. “Thank you for never judging me about it, Nana. When mama ran and told you about it a long time ago, hollering and carrying on after I was honest and told her where I worked, I just knew you were going to hit the roof, too.”
“Baby, I ain’t got room to judge nobody!” Nana snatched off her glasses, grimacing. “You dance for menfolk. Show skin.”
“Some women come, too.”
Nana shrugged. “I don’t know much about all of that, but I do know that men look at pretty women all day and night, and most of the women being ogled are none the wiser, and aren’t even getting paid for it. A man screwin’ you with his eyes alone… Lust.” Grandma gritted her teeth. “It ain’t what I want for you ’cause I know God want better for you.” She threw up her hands. “…But I ain’t God. I ain’t surprised you’ve made a killin’ at it, though.” Nana’s lips curled like handlebars. “You’re a beautiful girl, and you’re my grandbaby, but there are worse things in this world.”
“According to Mama, me being an axe murderer is the only thing that would be worse,” she teased.
“Oh, that’s hogwash. There’s plenty worse. Like making the whole world pay for something one person did. That’s the wrong way to make a livin’. Can’t no debt that big be repaid no how. In the end, it just leaves everyone broke.” Nana reached for her own drink once more and slurped it loudly. Nadia waited while the old woman got her fill, and simmered in the words Nana was cooking. The stove was hot like white fire.
“I like that. Good food for thought. I’m changing. Change is good, I hope,” she scoffed.
“Nadia, we all change over time. Well, we should.” Nana rolled her eyes as if thinking of someone specific that had arrested development. “Some folks act like five-year-olds all their lives. Ain’t nothing anyone can do about it. My point is, we’re supposed to grow as people. As for me? Now, I could make a lotta excuses for myself.” She pointed at her chest.
“Excuses for what?”
“For some of the ways my life turned out. Like, for instance, I could talk about how my mama didn’t protect us from our daddy. On and on I could go about all the things she didn’t do. Or how our daddy worked so hard that he resented us being extra mouths to feed. He hit us, just like he hit my mama. He died in a nursin’ home with nobody caring about him because of all the wrong he’d done. I could use that as a reason for some of the mess-ups in my own life. Yo’ mama could make excuses, too.
“Blame it on her daddy’s bad blood that runs through her veins, the devil that he was, and me bein’ overprotective of her as she grew up—never letting her breathe, as she used to say. Said I suffocated her, and was so religious that I didn’t use common sense.” She shrugged. “Your mama been fightin’ with God since she was a lil’ bitty thing. Her ’nd God was on good terms for a long while until your Daddy come along. Everybody’s mama, Nadia, got a reason as to why they’re like they are, but the bottom line is this: nobody is perfect. One day, if you’re ever a mother, you’ll understand me firsthand.”
“…I know. I never expected faultlessness though. I just wanted her to be truthful with me about her feelings. About how she felt ’bout life. About my father. About everything. She only wanted to talk about right here, right now, and when the day was done, she was done talking about that, too.”