Back to Life

SEVEN

Zuri 

"How was the appointment?" I finally prod as we both take the grocery bags out of the car.

To be honest, I am proud to have lasted as long as I did without asking her. After picking Stella up from her therapy session, we went to the supermarket to buy a few things to bring home.

As if knowing that not asking has been eating away at me, she smirks and heads to the entrance door without answering.

The little shit!

"Hey," I call out, following her with two heavy bags in my hands. "I am talking to you, miss!"

My eyes are locked on the heavy bags, afraid they'll spill, or slip from my hands. The eggs are on top, if they fall off, I'll scream bloody murder! With a little bit extra money this month, I went a little out on the food.

Why isn't she answering me?

"Did you even-"

"Aunt Zuri," she cuts me off.

Her voice alone is enough to make the hairs on my skin stand up to attention. The way it is low and drawls out as she calls me, as she always does when she's seeking my guidance for something.

When I look up, looking at what she's also focused on, I'd much rather have the fucking eggs shatter to the ground because instead, it's my heart that does.

In front of our door, stand my parents.

I keep my poker face out as I scrutinise their expression, I may be squirming on the inside, but I won't give them the pleasure of knowing about it.

Their judgy eyes examine their surroundings, certainly finding reasons as to why this place is unworthy.

Make no mistake, we don't come from money.

My parents came to Portugal at a very young age, in hopes of finding better opportunities. And they did. By working their asses off from the beginning, they managed to find good jobs and even better bosses who rewarded their commitment. By the time my sister was born, their lives were significantly more stable than when they had arrived.

Nowadays, they pride themselves in being able to live on the wealthier side of town, with enough retirement that they don't need to work to death like many still do.

Where Amari bought her house is not a bad side of town, where most of the problematic neighbourhoods are overpopulated with high buildings crammed with apartments.

No, this is a more recent, still developing area, with modern and spacious houses in a few areas and luxury apartments in others. But from the look in their eyes... Not good enough.

Shit. We did not need this. Not now.

"What do you think they want?" my niece whispers.

I can take a guess, but won't know until the words come out of their mouths directly.

"Don't worry," I tell her, trying to ease the nervousness. It doesn't work.

Even if she doesn't worry, I always will.

"Let's go," I urge her, following close behind.

Once we reach the door, my mother, Lueji, turns around to face us. Those thick and coiled curls I inherited are perfectly defined and shiny, though short. If there is one thing Lueji was always serious about, is hair care. And hers is always nothing below perfect.

Just like her make-up and outfit. At sixty-three years old, her skin is not even covered in wrinkles, making her look as young as forty-something. It's the outfit that is the giveaway. A knee-long black skirt, with a white silky button-up shirt tucked into it. The shirt has, on the neckline, two thick ribbons that knot in a perfect bow.