𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

58

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"Ana, you good?" Chyna dropped the duffle to pick up my phone and turn it face up. It was showing the white apple logo and staying on the screen for longer than normal.

"I think your phone broken. It's not switching off the screen."

"fuck it, I don't even care about the phone at this point." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and headed back into the bedroom, my hand cradling the back of my neck like I just got off a stressful day at work.

"what had happened?" Chyna came into the bedroom behind me, not even caring about the view that caught my attention from day one or nothing like that. She followed behind me into the bathroom, my hands gripped onto the edge of the matte black countertops with matching gold-rimmed black porcelain sinks.

"Ain't nothing happen. I'm good." My voice was flat and my fingers felt ice cold. To be real, what could I tell her? My daddy just dropped a big ass bomb on me and now it look like I hung up on him.

"No, you lyin' just tell-"

"I said ain't nothin' happen, Chyna. Just drop it. And what's bringing you here? Where's Cut? Did he send you to get me or something?"

Chyna's eyes got big at my reaction I'm sure. With her eyebrows pinched together, she curved her lips to each side before walking out the bathroom. "Come back in the kitchen, Ana."

"Why can't you tell me here? Like, why all the fuckin' secrets? Why is it that everyone in this fuckin' group just do what the fuck they wanna do and I'm always the one playing catch the fuck on up EVERY time!"

"I'm bout done with all these games, yo. I'm about fucking done, dawg!" my voice started to crack and the harder I held onto the counter, the whiter my knuckles had gotten and I felt the room spinning. My mouth started to get real moist, almost like-

"Shit, Ana! What the fuck is going on?" Chyna ran back into the bathroom at the first sound of me throwing up in the toilet. I know she was getting tired of being the one to save me from the bowl but at this point, all the feelings I was having was just getting to be to much. From my mama, to Skooby, to Cut, now my fuckin' daddy?

Man, fuck!

Chyna stayed behind me, napkin in one hand and her hand holding back my hair in a low ponytail.

"Get that shit out. Don't worry I'm here."

That shit went on for about 10 minutes till I was heaving, the corners of my eyes welling up with my dewy, salty ass tears. When it seemed to be over with and I had the strength to sit on the toilet with the lid down, Chyna grabbed a rag, a bar of soap, and a towel and started the water without asking me if it was alright.

"take you a shower and put on some clothes and come to the kitchen. I'll tell you the deal and you tell me yours because I know something is up and I don't wanna be in this bathroom so my silk press can frizz the fuck on up."

She grabbed my bonnet and hairnet out the bedroom and threw it on the sink with the shower cap, closing the door behind me.

-

Chyna had ended up ordering us some soda-crackers and Merlot but it looked like she was cooking from the big Instacart bag that was on top of the kitchen counter. With her back to me, I crept up on the bar stool next to the island and just watched her flow. She was switching back and forth between pans, humming and shit and just doing her thing in the kitchen. Whatever was under that pot she had lifted was good as fuck and I was trying to catch whatever whiff I could get.