The Devil Wears Stilettos

Twenty-One

[B]

"...He's your sister's son." My mom finally got out.

It's like all the sound around me dimmed out. I felt like a shit ton of bricks just hit me.

Son.

My sister's son.

She's twenty.

"Bey," I heard, shaking me back in to reality.

"How old is he?" I got out.

"Beyoncé," my mom started.

"How old is he?" I repeated, raising my voice.

"Three," she said softly.

"She was seventeen," I mumbled.

"She was." My mom answered.

I couldn't tell if I was extremely angry or extremely heartbroken.

"Seventeen..." I repeated. "Seventeen! Are you kidding me?" I began to yell.

"Bey," I heard Jay say.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "I was seventeen too! I got kicked out, I got cut off..." I continued.

"Beyoncé," my mom said.

"And she got nothing? She got to have her baby and live here? What the fuck?" I yelled. I felt Jay squeeze my shoulder.

"Baby, there's a child," he whispered. I looked down at my sister's son, who was hiding behind my mom.

"You are so lucky he's here," I said to my mom. She sighed.

"You never reached out to us... so, eventually, we thought-"

I cut her off. "I was not the parent!" I cried. "It was not my job to reach out to you guys! For six years, I went without hearing shit from you!"

"I understand you're upset-" she tried to respond.

"No, please don't ever say you 'understand'. You don't understand shit! I was in the darkest place I've ever been in my life, because of you! All of you! And then you try to fix your guilt and mistakes over me with the same bitch who caused all of this? Fuck you!" I cried.

"Baby," Jay said. I shook my head.

"I lost my baby!" I yelled. I didn't care who was watching or how loud I got.

"What?" My mom asked.

"You put me through hell over this, and I still lost my baby!" I cried. "I lost my home, my family, my child, everything... because of you pieces of shit! And she gets to have it all?"

"Beyoncé, please," my mom said.

"I didn't... I didn't even get one phone call! You didn't care what happened to me," I strained.

My voice sounded child-like. I felt like I was back in that scared, seventeen year old's body. That was exactly what I didn't want to happen when I came back here.

"That's not true," my mom said.

"Yes it is! I left, and never once did you try to reach out! You thought you could fix the mistakes you made with me, with Solange... you didn't even try to fix them with me!" I cried.