Bleu sat on her sofa, flipping through case files in front of her. The highlighter in her hands slid over the pages. It was late, too late to be up, but she couldn’t sleep. A candle flickered, causing shadows to dance against her ceiling as crickets chirped outside. The breeze that snuck through her window caused goose bumps to form on her arms. She heard the sound of his engine before the headlights that turned into her driveway illuminated her living room. She didn’t even rise from her seat. She kept working as the sound of the car door slamming filled the air, then heavy thuds against the wood of her porch as he ascended the steps.
“What you doing up?” he asked.
“Working,” she said without looking at him. “I have to help a lady get her kid back tomorrow. Be a character witness in court on her behalf. I’m just making sure I have everything together.”
He came into view, and Bleu rolled tired eyes up to him. He took the papers from her hands.
“Messiah, I don’t feel like hearing anybody’s problems but my own right now,” she sighed.
He sat on the edge of the ottoman directly in front of her and then tossed the papers to the floor. “Nigga, this shit ain’t no one-sided shit where I just dump my shit on you but you can’t give me some of yours. Start talking,” Messiah barked. “What problems?”
Bleu sighed and let her head fall back against the couch cushions. “Iman wants me and Saviour to move to LA.” The room grew so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“Nah,” Messiah answered. “Next problem.”
The laugh that fell from Bleu’s lips made Messiah smirk as he rose slightly to pull the ottoman closer to the couch.
“Just like that, huh?” Bleu asked. “I shouldn’t even consider it?”
“You can’t consider it. I said no. Now what else keeping you up?” Messiah asked.
Bleu didn’t respond right away. She just looked at Messiah. Never the one to back down, the stare down was returned. Bleu looked away first. She wasn’t sure if Messiah always won their battles because she let him or because he was simply in charge, but either way, she yielded.
“This woman who’s fighting for her daughter is a recovering addict,” Bleu said. “It just reminds me of myself. This could have easily been me, Messiah. They’re trying to take her kid forever, and I’m rooting for her, but what if she gets her baby back and she goes back to getting high? Any little thing can make an addict backslide, Messiah. What happens to her kid if she messes up? What happens to Saviour if I mess up?” she whispered the last part. This wasn’t about the case. It was about her life, about the things that were at stake for her.
“And that’s why you want to move?” Messiah asked. “Because you want him close to Iman in case you start using again?”
Bleu didn’t answer, but she lowered her head as tears filled her eyes. She didn’t let one fall. “I’m not saying I will. I don’t want to, but it’s certain shit that terrifies me, Messiah. Like sometimes it’s the smallest thing that triggers me. Like when I turn on the stove to cook. There’s this sparking sound, this click that reminds me of the sound the lighter would make when…” Bleu’s voice disconnected, breaking up as her lip trembled. She looked at him with so much angst. “It’s just not as easy as it looks, Messiah.”
Messiah nodded. “I believe that, B,” he said. “That it’s hard as fuck. What you need from me to make sure that don’t happen?”
She nodded. “Nothing. Nobody can carry this but me,” she said.
“And apparently Iman,” Messiah said. “He’s a good nigga, B. No lie. I fuck with Iman. I know the nigga love you. He’s a good father to Saviour. He do his job, B, but Cali? I ain’t with that shit, man.”
“I don’t really need permission, Messiah,” she answered.
“The hell you don’t,” Messiah uttered. He frowned, and he cracked the knuckles on his big hands then stood. He didn’t know what to do with this energy she was giving. “You trying to make it work with him, B? Or this just about Saviour?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Messiah. We aren’t really the same as we used to be. He couldn’t even look at me after I told him I was pregnant by you. He’s just now speaking to me again. I don’t know what me moving there would mean, but damn, I don’t want to be by myself forever.”
“You ain’t by yourself,” Messiah muttered.
Bleu half smiled because she knew he believed that to be true.
“I swear sometimes it feel like I should just…” Messiah stopped speaking and shook his head.
“You should just what?” she asked.
“You the only one seem to appreciate the fact that a nigga back,” Messiah said. “Everything around me changed, B, but you’re the same. You tryna move all the way to fucking Cali? Can’t see that. Can’t see me letting that happen at all, B.”
“Why?” Bleu asked. “What am I missing here? You’ve got your life, Messiah. You have your plans, you know what you came back for. You want Ethic and Mo, and that’s an entire family for you. It’s just me and Saviour over here. What are we around for? There is nothing keeping me here.”
Messiah stood and hitched up his pants, looking off as he rubbed his fingers in irritation. Thumb to middle finger, they circled.
“Leave then, B. If that’s how you feel, pack ya’ shit and dip,” Messiah said.
“Why are you mad?” she asked as she stood too. “Everything isn’t about what you need. I need things. Saviour needs things.”
Messiah pulled a wad of money from his back pocket and began flicking through the bills. “What you need, B? Huh?” he asked, tossing hundred-dollar bills at her. “That enough?” He kept peeling off money. Bleu slapped the entire roll out of his hands. He didn’t even bother to pick it up.
“I will hurt you, Messiah,” Bleu sneered. “Throwing money at me like you’re crazy.”
“I am crazy, mu’fucka, so stop playing with me. Cali ain’t the play.” He moved through her home and headed to the kitchen. She followed him and stood in the doorway as he helped himself to the orange juice, tilting the half-gallon carton to his mouth like he had purchased it.
“Saviour needs a father, you asshole,” Bleu said. “You gon’ be that? You gon’ do that, Messiah?”
“I’ll be whatever the fuck he need me to be!” Messiah barked. He didn’t know shit about fathering a human being, but shit, if that was what her friendship required, he would try. He had tried to be something to her son, he didn’t know what—neither did she—but somehow he had become a staple for Saviour.
“And what about me?” Bleu shouted. She didn’t even mean to. It just flew out of her mouth, her emotions overriding intellect because Messiah was driving her crazy.
“Whatever the fuck you need me to be too. What you want me to be, B?” he yelled. Bleu’s temper had her heaving. Her eyes misted. This had gone too far. She shook her head.
“Nah, don’t shake your head. Answer the question. Keep it a stack with me. What you want from me? I ain’t never not delivered when you asked me for something. What you want me to be to you, B?”
Bleu hesitated. She froze because she didn’t know the answer to that question. She just knew she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stay in Michigan and keep doing what she had been doing. With him. For years. The casual nature of friendship, the unspoken bond they shared, the dependency they had created … nah, she couldn’t do that at all … not anymore.
“Nobody. I want you to go back to being nobody to me,” she said. “Lock my door on your way out.” She bumped past him, rushing up the stairs and out of sight.