The Closer I Get to You

16

Beyoncé

"I need your help!"

The stomps of my sister's boots on the ground nearly shakes the house and all of the fragile decorations and trinkets around. I'm relaxing now that school is officially out.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"I need your help with my project." She grabs my hand and pulls me outside to the backyard.

Low and behold she's trying to get me to cut some damn wood for a "project". My mama and I disagree with it, but it could be worse, she could be on a device all day.

"You're crazy." I huff out.

She makes these manipulative childish ass puppy eyes and I cave in instantly.

"What I need to do?"

"Here and here."

She does this when mama isn't home because the woman will give her hell for tryna lift heavy stuff. I grab the seesaw and get to cutting as Solange checks and fixes her nails. I shake my head and follow suit.

"Why you suddenly happy, we ain't fought in a while." she says.

By "fighting" she means me locking her out of my room when ever she begins to run her mouth and ramble.

I'm not mean to her, am I? Or at least I don't recall being a bitch to her on purpose.

"That's good, is it not?" I ask with my focus on the wood.

"Yeah, I guess..." she wanders to my other side. "You seem happier and I'm kinda weirded out, that's all."

"You gotta boyfriend?" She asks. "--I mean a girlfriend."

I shake my head negatively.

"So you not even talkin' to nobody?"

Then I perk up my posture. Am I really about to discuss the details of my love life with an almost 11 year old? Maybe I would if she was older. My mouth moves otherwise.

"Yes, I think so actually."

"Who?" She blurts. "Who, who, who, who, who, who, who?!"

She can barely even acknowledge Nicki verbally. I'm not worried about her gossiping.

"Nicki..." I say in a small voice.

Here I am acting and smiling like a damn schoolgirl.

"Ooouu." Solange sings. "Mama said that if she was gay, she would be perfect for you."

"You discussing my business with mama? Don't do that." I smirk.

"Mama love her, get with her." She says in a "matter of fact" tone.

I scoff. As supportive as my mother is and as right as she may be with Nicki, I sometimes hate when she picks and chooses girl as if it were an audition. She'a got the best energy but it needs to go somewhere else.

"Chile, where else do I need to cut?"

She makes more and more orders until the pieces are all cut.

"Is that good?"

"Mmm-hmm. Thanks."

I retreat to my bedroom.

________

little does beyonce know, this conversation came with a catch. he he