𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙠𝙞

Vier..

Swiftly pressing the white buttons on his keyboard, D'Angelo typed a response to an email delivered from a psychotherapist that his mother recommended to assistant Nala. Imani Lenior. A successful black woman that obtained her bachelor's degree in psychology, as well as her master's in psychotherapy. During their exchange, D'Angelo described Nala, her interests and dislikes, which motivated Doctor Lenior to have an art therapist come alongside the scheduled meeting. Art therapy is known as an essential destressing process which allows people to examine their emotional and psychological message beyond the artwork. Exiting out the email, D'Angelo leaned back in his comfy office chair, attempting to relax his mind, but the opening tune erupted from his iPhone. Averting his eyes to his phone's screen, D'Angelo immediately answered when he read the name as his mother's contact.

Before D'Angelo could greet his mother, he heard her frantic breathing through the phone, "What's wrong, Momma?" D'Angelo stood up from his desk, closing his laptop and sliding it inside of his black bag. The last time Simone called her son with a panic-filled voice, it pained her to deliver the news of her son's unexpected death. Attempting to control her heavy breaths, a few words finally formulated within her mind, "Aniyah picked Nala up from school. Did you ask her to do that?" Simone breathed out as she paced the school's main hall back and forth. D'Angelo groaned as he locked his classroom door. "No, I'm on my way to pick her up now. She knows damn well she's wrong for doing this without discussing it with us first."

As he walked down the hall, he unconsciously glanced towards his right, but stood in place awhile longer when he saw the same woman from a few weeks prior. She was standing in front of a fellow instructor who was talking as her hand quickly moved as she wrote on a notepad. D'Angelo assumed she was a new teacher because he had never seen her before the current school year. He made a mental note to introduce himself to her next time they encounter each other, regardless of who would be around, he'd wait. D'Angelo walked out the six main doors and jogged towards his Melbourne red metallic vehicle. As he cautiously switched lanes and made sharp turns on the road, he couldn't help but think how he would approach Nala's mother. The two hadn't spoken for weeks; for reasons both of them were well-aware of. Reaching the three-bedroom home that was too familiar to D'Angelo, caused him to release a deep sigh.

D'Angelo walked up the two steps and forcefully knocked on the screen door. After what seemed like five minutes, the door slowly opened up revealing Aniyah. Instead of looking at the man in front of her, Aniyah's eyes remained on her daughter, knowing that their time came to an end. Averting her eyes from Nala, Aniyah frowned when her eyes connected with D'Angelo's cocoa colored eyes. Nala spun around to see Angel's figure, running to hug his long legs. He grabbed her little arms, pulling her up so they matched each other's height. Nala laid her head on his right shoulder as she played with the gold pendant attached to his chain. He averted his eyes towards Aniyah, "Come out here with me, I wanna talk to you real quick." D'Angelo didn't wait for an answer, he walked towards his car to place Nala in the back seat. Aniyah hesitantly followed, watching as D'Angelo secured her daughter into the seat.