Why, Papa? Why do you need to help those gangbangers? Even the ones who are trying to get out are no good.
It made no difference, though. He'd been doing it, quietly and always carefully, since she was fourteen. Even though it had been over ten years, it still terrified her every time he did it. The less Keisha heard, the better.
"What do you want to do after this?" Kyara asked the child.
No, don't ask that. Don't ask. There is no after this.
Keisha tried to turn her head to look at the woman braiding her hair, but Kyara kept her facing firmly forward.
"I want to go buy a shirt like yours," said Keisha, her voice full of admiration.
Kyara glanced down. The shirt was nothing special – a simple, clinging purple cotton. Kyara did have to admit, though, the rich color set off the rich chocolate of her skin quite nicely. And Devante seemed to appreciate the way it clung to her curves.
No not him. Never him. I never want to think about him again.
"Do you like purple?" Kyara asked Keisha, glancing up at the street again.
Who cares about a stupid shirt? Run! Run away! But the dream Kyara sat, just as she had in real life.
A black sedan came around the corner. It would have been like a hundred other cars – solid, boring, and anonymous – if Kyara hadn't noticed the bright yellow chicken hanging from the rear-view mirror. She'd seen it a hundred times, and never failed to ask him to take it down.
That stupid, terrible toy chicken. If not for it, I would never have known.
The thought cut off abruptly as the windows facing her father and Keisha's rolled down and the muzzle of guns appeared.
* * * * *
Kyara sat straight up in the dark, her heart racing.
The clock glared at her from the nightstand, bathing her in harsh, red light.
I'll have to be up in an hour anyway, Kyara told herself, and I don't think I'm getting back to sleep any time soon.
Kyara got out of bed and went to stare at herself in the mirror.
The time working outside has made me even darker, she realized. I thought I'd hate it, but it actually looks pretty good. It did, too. The light gleamed off the dark sheen of her skin, making her eyes seem whiter and larger. Her straightened hair encircled her face like an ebony halo, drawing attention to the red in her lips and cheeks. Damn. I wish I could tell thirteen-year-old me about this. I wasted a lot of sunlight trying to stay light skinned.
Kyara sobered, looking at herself again in the mirror.
Is that when it started? All this chasing after men, trying to be what they want? Never thinking too closely about who they really are?
Kyara studied herself, eyes dark and reflective.
What am I doing? After Devante, I swore I wouldn't do this again. I need to stand on my own, not get tangled up with some guy. Especially, she scolded herself, some guy I've barely spent any time with. I mean, what do I even know about him?
Well, I know that he volunteers, both on the trail and at Crystal's school. I know that he stood up for me. I know he brought people here to eat. I know that he looks great in jeans. And... that's it. I don't even know his last name.
That's not enough. That's not even what I knew about Devante.
I'm making the same mistakes all over again.
I have to cancel.
Kyara nodded to herself, her jaw firming, and turned away to shower.
That morning, Kyara rehearsed what she would say. She couldn't call right away, given how early she was up. That gave her hours to obsess. She almost changed her mind again and again. Each time she reconsidered, she ran her litany of failed boyfriends through her mind, always ending with the worst.
This is my penance, she found herself thinking. I can't ever make up for it, but that doesn't mean I can't try.