People eased out of the pews in slow lines, shaking hands, trading hugs, talking about lunch. Programs were folded and tucked into purses. The last chords from the organ faded while the sanctuary emptied toward the double doors.
Laney stayed in her spot until the bodies in front of her thinned out. She rested her hand on the back of the pew, fingers tapping once against the wood, and waited until the family in front of her slid into the aisle. Then she stood, smoothed her dress over her hips, and followed them out.
She stepped through the doors and onto the patio a few minutes later, the late morning heat rolling over her in a warm sheet. People were spread across the concrete and the first stretch of grass, some already cutting toward their cars, others lined up to speak to her daddy and mama.
Rylee came through the doors ahead of her and went straight for the parking lot. Her clutch was already open in her hand, fingers fishing for keys. As she passed, her eyes hit Laney’s for half a second. Rylee’s mouth flattened. She looked away and picked up her pace.
Laney shook her head once and moved to her usual place on the patio, a few feet down from where Pastor Hadden and Marianne stood. She planted herself there, purse strap looped over one wrist, hands folded in front of her.
“Son, we’re just so glad you didn’t get caught up in all that stuff in the Middle East,” an older man told Tommy, both his hands wrapped around his.
“Appreciate y’all’s prayers,” Tommy said. His palm landed on the man’s shoulder in a brief, practiced pat.
“God really watched over you,” the man’s wife added, dabbing under one eye with a tissue.
Tommy shook hands, nodded through compliments, accepted a few lingering hugs. Every so often he said something about being happy to he didn’t get deployed, voice pitched so the line could hear.
Laney kept her eyes ahead and shifted her weight from one heel to the other. The noise on the patio ran together into a steady hum.
When the line finally thinned down to a few stragglers and church deacons, Tommy crossed to her side. He stopped just close enough that their shoulders almost touched and turned so he faced the lot instead.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“Marianne tells me that you been goin’ to the women’s clinic for fertility treatments,” he said.
Laney watched a young family herd their kids down the steps toward a minivan.
“I ain’t know you had got so close to my mama all of a sudden to talk ’bout my medical business,” she said.
Tommy’s jaw flexed once. A middle-aged man stepped up, stuck his hand out, and Tommy took it automatically.
“Don’t worry,” Tommy said, eyes on the man and not on her. “I didn’t ask. She just offered that to me.”
The man clapped him on the arm and moved on. Tommy let his hand fall back to his side. He waited until the couple was out of earshot. His voice dropped a notch.
“The question I have is what are you doing fertility treatments for if you’re not fucking me,” he said. “Sounds to me like you’re back to lying about what you’re doing.”
Laney’s mouth pressed into a line. She reached up and adjusted the thin chain at her neck, fingers steady.
“I can show you the appointments when we get home if you want,” she said.
Tommy gave a short, humorless scoff. His eyes flicked toward her, then away as an older woman shuffled past with her cane.
“I can make an appointment somewhere,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that I’m actually going’ there.”
Laney cut a quick smile for the woman, nodding when the woman called Tommy a blessing. As soon as the cane tapped away, Laney let her face go flat again.
“I don’t know what to tell you then,” she said. “At some point, you gonna have to take me at my word ’cause I ain’t gonna keep walkin’ ’round on eggshells ’round you.”
“You say that like you’re not the one that did something’ wrong,” he said.
Laney turned her head and looked at him fully for the first time since he walked over. The sun caught on the side of his face. Her eyes stayed on his, steady.
“How Claire?” she asked. “You convince her to be your full-time mistress yet? Or she still tryin’ convince you to divorce me?”
His hand shot out fast, fingers clamping around her wrist just above the bracelet she wore. He stepped in closer so their bodies blocked the view of his grip from anyone walking by.
Pain jumped through her arm and into her shoulder. Laney’s lip twitched in a quick wince she pulled under control almost as soon as it showed. Her free hand curled into a loose fist at her side, knuckles paling.
“You’re doing’ some shit again,” Tommy said. His voice stayed even. “And I’m telling’ you that you’re not going’ to fuckin’ embarrass me by having’ a coon’s baby.”
Laney stared past him at the church sign near the road, the white letters lined up neat on the black board. Her wrist throbbed under his fingers.
“You ain’t got nothin’ to worry ’bout there,” she said.
He watched her face for a moment, searching for something.
Tommy finally let her go. His fingers slid off her skin and his hand dropped to smooth the front of his shirt.
“The next time you go to one of these appointments, I’m coming’ with you,” he said.
Laney rolled her wrist once, slow, keeping the movement small. She shifted her purse to her other hand.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll let you know.”
He held her in his peripheral vision another second, then turned a half step away, angling himself back toward the middle of the patio. His face moved back into its church shape, mouth neutral, eyes open.
“Morning, y’all,” a young woman called as she walked up, cutting through the space between them.
Laney’s attention shifted with her. Kayla stepped forward, hands wrapped around the strap of her purse, cheeks bright, eyes soft.
Laney smiled and stepped toward her, reaching out with both hands.
“Girl, you been absolutely glowin’,” Laney said.
Kayla’s fingers slid into hers and squeezed. She laughed, shoulders relaxing under the compliment.
“This last few months have been amazin’,” Kayla said.
Laney let go of one of her hands and moved to her side, placing her free hand at the small of Kayla’s back.
“C’mon,” she said. “I wanna hear all ’bout it.”
She turned Kayla away from Tommy and guided her toward the far edge of the patio, their heads tipping in together as they walked.
~~~
The brunch spot stayed noisy enough that Sara could get lost in it if she wanted. Forks chimed against plates. The smell of butter and syrup and fried potatoes drifted over the low wall from the kitchen pass, cutting through the tang of orange juice and cheap champagne in front of her.She turned her mimosa glass by the stem, watching the bubbles crawl up the side. The light caught on the surface each time she tipped it. She took a sip that was more swallow than taste and set the glass down again, thumb resting on the base.
Across from her, Nicole leaned back in her chair and watched her with her chin tipped to one side. The corner of Nicole’s mouth started to pull up even before she made a sound.
“What?” Sara askedion. Her fingers tapped the glass once.
Nicole shook her head and then started laughing, a warm, rolling sound that made the woman at the next table glance over. She lifted her napkin near her mouth, but the laugh still came through.
“What?” Sara asked again, eyebrows lifting.
“Doesn’t it feel good to not work every day at multiple jobs when you don’t have to anymore?” Nicole asked. She kept laughing a little as she reached for her own mimosa and took a slow sip, eyes still on Sara over the rim.
Sara rolled her eyes and let her back rest against the chair. The metal frame pressed between her shoulder blades.
“I just didn’t know how to do anything else,” she said. She drew the tip of one finger through a ring of condensation on the table. “I told you you had to give me time to figure it out.”
Nicole angled her glass on the table, moisture catching on her fingertips. “Look, I’m never gonna suggest anybody rely on money that could disappear in the blink of an eye if, God forbid, something terrible happens to one person,” she said. She shifted her chair in closer, knee brushing the underside of the table. “But you should’ve dialed it back months ago.”
She picked up her mimosa again and took another measured sip, lips pursed around the glass.
Sara snorted and shook her head. “You sound like Caine,” she said. She lifted her glass, then added, “And Mireya.”
Nicole smiled at that, eyes narrowing with interest. “Because they’re right,” she said. She set the glass down and reached for her water, pushing the straw out of her way with one finger. “Let’s take a trip. Just the two of us. I’ll even let you pick.”
Sara looked at her over the top of her glass, then drank. She set the glass back down and pushed a piece of napkin in from the edge of the table with one finger.
“Who’s gonna watch Camila if I’m flying all over the country?” she asked.
Nicole did not blink. “One of her parents. Obviously.”
Sara’s mouth twitched. She looked past Nicole for a second at the line of people waiting for a table near the door.
“I wish it was that easy,” she said.
Nicole watched her a beat longer, but before she could answer, their waitress slid up beside the table with a practiced smile and a tray balanced on one hand. The girl set two fresh mimosas down at the edge of the plates, stems catching the light, tiny drops of juice already sweating on the glass. She checked their plates with a quick glance.
“Y’all good on food?” she asked.
“We’re fine, thank you,” Nicole said.
The waitress nodded and moved off, weaving back into the maze of tables and clatter.
Sara reached for the fresh mimosa and pulled it closer. She tipped the remaining sip from her old glass into the new one. The liquid layered together, then settled. She took a long drink and set the empty glass aside with a soft click.
“Did I ever tell you what I found out Caine was doing?” she asked.
Nicole’s hand, halfway to her glass, froze. She put her palm out between them, fingers spread, a faint smile at the edges of her mouth. “Don’t tell me if it’s illegal.”
Sara’s laugh came out as a low burst, quick and rough. “It ain’t illegal,” she said. She picked up her fork and pushed a piece of cold potato around the plate, then let the fork go. “But there’s some people out there who might want it to be.”
“Oh, this might be good,” Nicole said. Her eyes lit up. She grabbed the other fresh mimosa, lifting it in a small salute before taking a sip. Then she leaned back and crossed her legs under the table, the movement deliberate and theatrical. One foot bounced.
Sara shook her head at her, but the corner of her mouth softened.
“You know how he has to work at that church for his probation?” she asked. “Out there in Statesboro?”
Nicole nodded slowly. “Yeah. If I was in his shoes, I might’ve chose staying here over that, ’cause that’s a special kind of hell.”
Sara blew out a breath through her nose. “He works for this pretty young thing. A lonely mom, married.”
Nicole’s eyebrows climbed. Her glass paused halfway to her mouth.
“Well, my dumbass son decided that would be a good person to start some kind of relationship with,” Sara finished. She lifted the mimosa again and drank, letting the bubbles scrape her throat.
Nicole stared at her over the rim of her glass for a long second, then burst out laughing. The sound broke big and sudden. She set the glass down and put a hand flat on the table, the other coming up to press against her chest.
“Have you ever thought about trying to get him to go to therapy,” she asked, still catching her breath, “’cause there’s got to be something else at work there?”
Sara shook her head, the smallest smile there even as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, there is. He didn’t start thinking until all the blood was below his belt. Same way he got Mireya pregnant.”
Nicole reached for her napkin and dabbed at the corner of one eye where a tear had gathered from laughing. “I don’t know,” she said. “You say that, but he’s got to have other options. You don’t just pick the worst one.”
“No,” Sara said. “The worst one was this woman’s little sister. Since he was with her, too.”
Nicole’s whole body reacted. She let out a low sound and palmed her face, pressing her fingers into her forehead as she shook her head slowly.
“Men are the worst,” she said into her hand, then dropped it and looked at Sara again. “Anything but go talk to someone.”
“Absolutely,” Sara said. She took another drink, deeper this time, and felt the warmth bloom down into her chest.
Nicole shifted in her chair, the playful glint slipping back into her eyes. She straightened up, uncrossed and recrossed her legs, and nudged the base of Sara’s glass with her fingertips.
“Okay,” she said. “So where are we going? I’m not taking no for an answer. We can do a little weekend thing.”
Sara rolled her eyes again, slower this time, and lifted the mimosa. She brought it to her mouth and took another sip.
~~~
Mireya walked the path slowly on purpose, fingers wrapped around Camila’s small hand. The concrete under them was cracked into neat squares, expansion joints cutting through the sidewalk. Camila hopped so each foot landed on either side of the seams, knees bending, curls bouncing with every jump.“Mami, can we go get some ice cream later?” Camila asked, tilting her head back to look up. Her free hand swung wide, almost clipping Mireya’s thigh.
Mireya’s mouth softened. She squeezed her daughter’s hand and glanced down. “Sí, mi amor.”
Camila grinned, satisfied, and went back to watching the ground, eyes narrowed in concentration as she timed each jump over the lines. Noise from the street ran along the edges of the park, tires on asphalt, a horn leaning too long somewhere down the block. Closer in, kids yelled from the jungle gym and the clank of metal chains from the swings carried back to them.
They came around a bend where the path opened up to the play area. Rubber mulch stretched out under a bright tangle of bars and slides. Graciela was already up on the jungle gym, hanging off one of the ladders, skinny legs kicking as she called something down to another kid below her.
Camila spotted her and snatched her hand out of Mireya’s. She took off running toward the structure, shoes slapping the edge of the path before her shoes hit the mulch.
“Graci!” she yelled, voice high with excitement.
Graciela’s head snapped over. Her face split into a grin as she let go of the rung she’d been clutching and dropped to the platform below. “Camila!” she shouted back, already moving to meet her.
Mireya’s fingers flexed once in the empty air where Camila’s hand had been. She watched long enough to see the girls collide in a quick hug at the base of the ladder, both of them talking over each other, before she turned toward the benches.
Jaslene and Mari had claimed one on the far side, the slats worn smooth from years of bodies. Jaslene sat with one leg crossed over the other, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, a to-go coffee cup resting on her knee. Mari had her elbows on her thighs, hands folded, gaze drifting between the girls and the passing people.
Mireya dropped down between them. The bench gave a low, familiar creak under the added weight. Jaslene’s arm went around her shoulders immediately, palm warm against the bare skin where Mireya’s cropped top ended. Mireya leaned into her, letting her body settle against Jaslene’s side, her own hand coming up to rest lightly on Jaslene’s thigh.
Mari tipped her head toward Mireya and smiled. “Graci has been talking about seeing Camila all day.”
Mireya’s eyes stayed on the jungle gym. Camila and Graciela had already scrambled back up the ladder and were cutting across a bridge, hands gripping the rail. “Yeah, she has, too. She likes the kids at the daycare alright, but no one like Graci.”
Mari hummed under her breath and sat back a little.
Jaslene took a slow sip from the cup balanced on her knee, the lid clicking when she set it back down. “Look at us, a couple strippers with some found family. They make movies about shit like this.”
Mireya huffed out a laugh. She let her head fall onto Jaslene’s shoulder. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her own top.
Mari snorted. She lifted one hand and flicked her nails out. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I want. Someone turning me into a white woman who is out in the big city and finds some white man to come save her.”
Jaslene made a face, scrunching her nose, and shook her head. “The plus side is that the spicy Latina stereotype fits Ale so they can cast anyone for her.”
All three of them laughed then, the sound cutting through the general park noise for a second. On the playground, Graciela and Camila climbed onto the slide together, knees knocking as they tried to sit at the same time. Graciela counted down on her fingers. They pushed off and went down in a tangle of limbs, landing hard at the bottom before rolling apart in giggles.
Mireya watched them catch their breath, chests rising and falling fast. Her shoulders dropped a little.
“I don’t know. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s next. If there’s anything next at all.”
Jaslene’s arm tightened around her shoulders. She turned her head, pressing her cheek briefly against Mireya’s hair. “No hagas eso, mi amor.”
Mireya lifted one hand and rubbed at a spot on her thigh where her jeans had creased. She exhaled through her nose, eyes tracking Camila as she scrambled back to her feet. “I’m just saying. Is it so bad to just be okay with this for now? We make money. We have each other. Everyone’s happy, right?”
Mari shifted, one ankle crossing over the other. She tipped her head side to side. “I don’t know if you can say that I make money. I kinda fall into it.”
Jaslene gave her a dry look over Mireya’s head, then brought her focus back to Mireya. “You’re getting jaded.”
Mireya shook her head. “I’m not. I’m getting real. Like when Jo—that guy said that stuff about me? He was right.”
Mari’s eyebrows climbed. She leaned forward a little so she could see Mireya’s face. “That white boy?”
Jaslene nodded once, slow. “Sí.”
Mireya rolled her eyes. “But so, what if he’s right? Like I got a man. I got y’all. I got people who accept me for me.”
Mari let out a laugh that broke almost immediately into a little cough. She reached for the water bottle at her feet, unscrewed the cap, and took a long pull before speaking again. “She went to mass at the Our Lady the Ho this morning.”
Jaslene’s shoulders shook. She slid her palm up from Mireya’s shoulder to the back of her neck, thumb stroking once there. “This is why I think you need to take a break, nena.”
Mari nodded, twisting the cap back onto her bottle. “Tiene razón. Sometimes, a month off is good. To reset.”
Mireya sucked her teeth softly. She turned her head to look past the playground, eyes skimming over the trees, the cluster of other parents on their own benches, the stroller parked crooked by the swings. “When I’m feeling like this? Ready to lock the fuck in? Absolutely not.”
Jaslene just shook her head. Her thumb kept drawing slow circles at the base of Mireya’s skull.
Mari shrugged and settled back, spine hitting the bench rail, one arm folding over her stomach.
Out on the jungle gym, Camila reached up for the first of the overhead rings. Her fingers wrapped around the metal, small knuckles pale from the grip. She swung her body forward, feet leaving the platform for a beat as she reached for the next ring. Her hand slipped for a second. Her legs kicked out, sneakers scuffing the air, before she caught herself and grabbed on tight again. She finished the rest of the line, laughing breathlessly when she dropped down at the end, and ran toward Graciela to do it all over again.
~~~
The game on the TV filled the living room with fake crowd noise and commentator chatter, all of it sitting under everything else the way sound did in a locker room. Caine had the couch to himself, stretched out on his back with one arm tucked under his head and the other resting on his stomach. A half-empty bottle of blue sports drink sweated on the coffee table.Dwight and Keanon sat up closer to the TV in the two chairs they’d dragged around to face it earlier, bodies tilted forward, controllers in their hands. Dwight had his elbows braced on his knees, fingers moving quick. Keanon sat further back, long legs kicked out, one heel tapping the rug every time he flicked the stick. Javier had claimed the single armchair in the corner, one leg thrown over the other, phone in his hand, thumb flicking the screen while he half-watched Dwight’s defense on the screen.
Javier sucked his teeth. He frowned at his phone and shifted in the chair, shoulders rolling once. “These motherfuckers gave that nigga from Appalachian State the fucking player of the week again,” he said.
On the TV, his digital quarterback dropped back. Keanon glanced over his shoulder, just long enough for his man in the game to almost get blindsided. “That’s because Caine ain’t throw you no touchdowns,” he said, turning back to the screen and trying to roll out of the sack.
Caine snorted, his chest shaking as he let his head tip toward the back of the couch. “Man, fuck outta here. I throw to who open.”
Dwight laughed. He leaned back in his chair for a second, still mashing the buttons with his thumbs. “Caine treating that boy like them running backs from the segregation days,” he said. “Go out there and get us down to the goal line, boy. And then we gonna send in the white boy. Javi be over there with three hundred yards and no tuddies.”
Caine’s laugh came out deeper this time. He twisted enough to look their way, raising one hand. “Well, it’s a good thing I be throwing that shit to Trey’Dez and not J.J. ’Cause then I’d never beat the narrative.”
Javier dropped his phone to his lap and sat up straighter in the chair, brow furrowing. “I’m gonna start dropping that bitch if I don’t start getting some touchdowns, my nigga.”
Caine lifted his head an inch and reached an invisible hand toward the air beside him, fingers moving like he was jotting something down on a clipboard. “Throw every pass to someone other than that lil’ bitch Javier until Aplin tell his ass to go take a seat.”
They all cracked up. Javier grabbed one of the couch pillows by his chair and flung it toward the couch. It bounced off Caine’s shoulder and dropped to the floor. Caine just pushed it away with his foot, grinning.
On the screen, Dwight jumped a route. His virtual corner peeled off and snatched the ball, green grass in front of him. Dwight sat forward so fast the chair creaked, eyes locked on the TV as he sprinted down the sideline with the joystick. He whooped when his player crossed the goal line untouched. He turned and shoved Keanon in the chest with the back of his hand.
“Don’t throw that weak shit to that side the field, nigga!”
Keanon sucked his teeth and shifted in the chair, jaw working. “I’ll get that back.”
Javier picked his phone back up. He tapped his screen a few times, scrolling, then stopped. “Say, Caine,” he said, holding the phone up. “You see all these niggas at Miami liking all these posts about that belt we gave K-State yesterday?”
Caine rolled onto his side so his back was to the couch cushions, eyes sliding from the TV to Javier’s hand. He let his gaze rest there for a second, then shook his head and looked away. “You know I don’t be looking at all that shit.”
Dwight tilted his head just enough to glance back at Javier’s screen, then returned his eyes to the kickoff, thumb pulling back to power it up. “Them boys ’crooting,” he said. “Letting you know they see you shining.”
Keanon snorted, leaning into his chair as he lined his offense up out of the shotgun. “That’s because anyone better than Judd Anderson,” he said. “That boy trash.”
Dwight barked out another laugh, shoulders bouncing. “All I know is I don’t care who come calling,” he said, still staring at the TV as his linebacker shifted on the screen. “If it’s the U? You gotta go. Ain’t no place better to live in the world than Miami.”
Caine watched the digital players move for a moment, the small flicker of them cutting across the green on the screen. He pushed his heel into the arm of the couch to stretch his leg, toes flexing under his sock. “That’s why your ass here instead of FIU?”
Dwight sucked his teeth and focused on trying to stop Keanon’s run up the middle. “I’m Miami through and through even up here.”
Caine let a small smile sit at the corner of his mouth, then let it fade as he shifted his head back against the pillow. “To be real with y’all, I ain’t even thinking about that right now.”
Javier leaned his head back against the chair for a second, then rolled it to the side so he could stare at Caine. “Shut the fuck up, nigga,” he said. “Let us get to the middle of the season ranked. You gonna be like Diego Pavia out here, mama in the stands and shit to get them clicks.”
Caine’s eyes left the TV again. He turned his head just enough to look at Javier .”Say, watch who mama you talking about,” he said.
Dwight, still grinning, cut his eyes from the screen to Keanon in the next chair and jabbed a thumb in his direction. “We’ll just get Kea mama out there and say she yours,” he said. “Everyone like a big armed auntie looking woman.”
Keanon’s head snapped around. He kept one hand on the controller and shoved Dwight’s shoulder with the other, hard enough to make the chair slide an inch. “Don’t think I won’t beat your ass in here.”
Dwight raised his free hand, palm out, like he was surrendering even as he kept laughing. “I’m a big nigga,” he said. “I love big women, man.”
The room broke up again. Laughter rolling around the room.
Of course they don't make logical decisions, their frontal lobes ain't developed.
