ᴍᴏᴛɪᴇsʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴋɪɴɢ (#1 ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟʟs ᴛʀɪʟᴏɢʏ)✓

42: Tiesha And The Anger

Tiesha was having one hell of a morning.

Esther sat in her high chair in the middle of the living room, face turned stubbornly away every time the spoon came near her mouth.

The cereal in the bowl was starting to go cold, but that didn’t matter—Esther wasn’t budging.

Tiesha tried again, pushing the spoon toward her daughter’s lips. “Eat.”

Esther jerked her head away, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Tiesha sighed and tried a softer approach, tilting her head. “Honey, be a good girl for mama, hmm?”

Esther’s big brown eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point across the room. Then she made a face, whimpered, and slapped the plate. The bowl went flying.

Cereal splattered everywhere—on Tiesha, on Esther, the high chair, the floor.

Tiesha froze for half a second.

Then, before she could even grab a towel, Esther gagged and threw up the little cereal she’d actually managed to swallow earlier.

Tiesha just stared at her for a beat, jaw tightening. Then she yanked the toddler out of the chair with one hand and swatted her once across the butt.

Esther let out a wail so sharp it echoed off the walls.

“You don’t even know how to walk yet and you so fuckin’ spoilt,” Tiesha snapped, shaking her head. She waved toward the door. “Maids! Clean this mess up.”

She took Esther into the bathroom, wiping the vomit and cereal from her little hands and face, then carried her back into the living room and set her on the floor.

“You don’t wanna eat? No qualms.”

Esther sat there crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, staring up at her mother like she couldn’t believe Tiesha wasn’t picking her up. But Tiesha stayed where she was.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour of fussing, Esther’s cries slowed to soft hiccups. She lay down on the floor, still sniffling, and drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Only then did Tiesha lean down, pick her up, and cradle her in her arms.

When Esther woke later, she started crying again instantly. Tiesha rolled her eyes. “You just like Kiesha,” she muttered, looking down at her.

Esther’s tear-streaked face turned upward, eyes big and brown, tiny hands clutching at Tiesha’s chest like she was holding on for dear life.

It was already noon. She hadn’t eaten all day.

Tiesha sighed, lifted her shirt, and pulled out one breast. “This the last time. I don’t care what your daddy say. You a big girl.”

Esther latched on immediately, sucking with hungry little noises. She grabbed at her own feet while nursing, like she was trying to fold herself in half.

When Ky’Mon came home from work that evening, Tiesha told him about the cereal incident. He scowled.

“Don’t be puttin’ your hands on my daughter.”