Mama's Little Girls

thirty-five

Alani Anthony
25 September 2019
Home

I was in the kitchen, humming along to a song in my head as I washed dishes. The aroma of Carmelo's homemade chili still lingered in the air. He always made it spicy, just the way I liked it. Carmelo was lounging on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV, half-watching a basketball game and half-listening to me babble on about my day.

I dried my hands and wandered over to him, leaning down and wrapping my arms around his shoulders, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He turned and smiled, his eyes soft and a little amused, like they always were when he looked at me.

"You're in a good mood tonight," he said, reaching up to squeeze my hand.

"I am!" I chirped, bouncing a little. "I talked to Onika today, and she was telling me about her day with Beyoncé and the girls at the amusement park. She's really trying, you know? Like, really trying to be a part of their lives. I'm so happy for her. She sounded happy." I smiled, feeling a little glow inside just thinking about it.

Carmelo looked at me with a raised eyebrow, a little smirk on his lips. "You're a good friend, Alani. Onika's lucky to have someone cheering her on."

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I picked it up, surprised to see a message from Porsha. I'd talked to her earlier that day, but I guess she had something else on her mind.

'Hey, I just wanted to chat for a sec. Call me when you're free.' The message read.

I glanced at Carmelo, who nodded toward the phone, giving me a gentle pat on the back. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll keep watching the game."

"Thanks, babe." I kissed him again, and made my way to the bedroom, curling up on the bed as I dialed Porsha's number.

"Hey, girl." I greeted her, my voice bright.

"Hey, Alani." Her tone was different. It was that careful, guarded tone she got sometimes, like she had something serious to say but was trying to act casual.

"So, what's up? You sounded all serious in your text." I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Porsha took a breath. "It's just...it's about Onika and Beyoncé." She paused, and I felt my smile falter.

"What about them?"

"Well, you know I'm just looking out for Onika, right? I mean, she's my best friend. I don't want her getting hurt," she said, a little defensive.

"Of course, Porsha." I sat up, suddenly feeling like this conversation wasn't going in a direction I liked.

Porsha sighed, and then, to my surprise, she started talking. And the more she talked, the more I felt my chest tighten. She spoke about how she thought the relationship was doomed. But as she went on, I realised this wasn't just concern. It was something else. She'd been meddling, just quietly. Suggesting things to Onika, pointing out every little flaw she could find in Beyoncé. All with that same 'I just want the best for you' voice she used, hiding it all under layers of friendship.

I swallowed as I processed what she was saying. "Wait, Porsha are you—are you purposely trying to, you know, nudge Onika away from Beyoncé?"

Porsha hesitated. "I know Onika. I know her better than anyone. And I know she deserves better. Beyoncé's too intense, too complicated. And I don't think Onika needs that in her life right now."

"Porsha." I blurted, my voice sharper than I'd intended. "Are you hearing yourself? This isn't 'helping' her. It sounds like you're trying to control her life."