Chapter 2: The Number He Didn't Recognize
Quentin didn't leave.
Not immediately.
He stood near the shelter's exit, watching Simone hold the phone against her ear.
Marva noticed his hesitation.
“Quentin, what are you waiting for?”” she asked.
He didn't look at her.
“I'm just wondering who she's calling.””
Marva gave a dismissive laugh.
“Probably one of her friends. Let her call whoever she wants. You need a proper bed and a hot meal.””
Simone heard her but didn't respond.
The call connected.
“Hello?”” a man's voice answered.
Simone closed her eyes briefly.
“It's me,” she said.
“I need a favor.””
There was a pause.
Then the man asked, “Simone? Where are you?””
“I'm at the evacuation center on Jefferson Avenue. Our house flooded.””
“Oh, Lord. Is Nyla okay?””
Simone looked at her daughter.
“She is. We're both okay. But we don't have anywhere to stay tonight.””
The voice on the other end became firm.
“Send me the address. I'm coming.””
Simone's shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Thank you.””
“Don't thank me. You're family.””
She ended the call.
Quentin took one step toward her.
“Who was that?””
Simone slipped the phone into her hand.
“Someone who cares whether his niece has a place to sleep.””
Quentin frowned.
“Your brother?””
She didn't answer.
Marva stepped closer.
“Simone, don't start playing games. Whatever problem you have with my son is between the two of you. Don't bring outsiders into it.””
Simone turned toward her.
“Your son brought outsiders into it when he decided his mother was his family and his wife and daughter were somebody else's responsibility.””
Marva's eyes narrowed.
“Watch your mouth.””
“I'm watching my daughter. That's what matters right now.””
Nyla tugged at Simone's sweater.
“Mommy, can I have some water?””
Simone immediately crouched.
“Of course, baby.””
She opened the small backpack beside the bench and took out a half-full bottle.
Nyla drank carefully.
Quentin watched them.
He remembered packing that backpack the previous morning. He remembered Nyla laughing because he'd accidentally put two left socks inside.
He remembered promising her pancakes on Saturday.
Now it was Friday night, and his daughter was drinking lukewarm water in a crowded gymnasium while he stood beside his mother with an overnight bag.
Something uncomfortable pressed against his chest.
“Simone,” he said quietly.
“I didn't say I wasn't going to help.””
She looked up.
“You didn't say anything.””
“I was going to come back tomorrow.””
“Tomorrow?””
“After I get some sleep.””
Simone stared at him.
“Where exactly were you planning to sleep?””
“At Mom's.””
“And where were we supposed to sleep tonight?””
Quentin rubbed his forehead.
“Can we not do this here?””
Simone almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because he still thought the location was the problem.
Marva folded her arms.
“See? This is what I mean. Everything has to become an argument.””
Simone stood.
“No, Marva. An argument would require two people who care enough to listen.””
Marva stepped forward.
“I raised Quentin. I know what he needs.””
“And I gave birth to his daughter. I know what she needs.””
For a second, neither woman moved.
Then Quentin's phone vibrated.
He pulled it from his pocket.
A message from Marva appeared.
He looked up at his mother.
She was standing less than three feet away.
“Why are you texting me?”” he asked.
Marva shrugged.
“Just read it.””
He opened the message.
Don't let Simone manipulate you. Remember what we discussed. You promised me you wouldn't let her take control of our family.
Quentin's jaw tightened.
He quickly locked the screen.
Simone had noticed the exchange.
“What did she send you?””
“Nothing.””
Marva smiled sweetly.
“Just a reminder about tomorrow.””
Simone looked between them.
“Tomorrow?””
Neither answered.
Before she could ask again, the shelter's entrance opened.
A tall man in a dark raincoat stepped inside, shaking water from his shoulders. His eyes moved across the crowded room until they landed on Simone.
Then he hurried toward her.
“Simone!””
She turned.
“Marcus.””
The man pulled her into a quick embrace before crouching in front of Nyla.
“There's my favorite girl.””
Nyla's face brightened.
“Uncle Marcus!””
Marcus smiled, but his eyes quickly noticed the blanket around her shoulders.
“Why are you two sitting out here like this?””
Simone looked at Quentin.
Then at Marva.
“Because my husband was going home with his mother.””
Marcus slowly stood.
His expression changed.
He looked at Quentin.
“Is that true?””
Quentin shifted his bag.
“It's complicated.””
Marcus nodded once.
“Then let me make it simple.””
He turned toward Simone.
“Pack your things. You and Nyla are coming with me.””
Marva gave a sharp little laugh.
“Excuse me? Who invited you into this family matter?””
Marcus looked at her calmly.
“The people you left sitting in a flood shelter.””
Then he held out his hand to Nyla.
“Come on, princess. I've got a warm house, clean pajamas, and pancakes waiting in the morning.””
Nyla looked at her mother.
Simone smiled faintly.
“Go ahead, baby.””
As Marcus reached for the backpack, Quentin finally spoke.
“Wait.””
Everyone turned.
Quentin looked at Marcus, then at Simone.
“Where exactly are you taking my wife and daughter?””
Marcus met his eyes.
May you like
“To a place where nobody has to beg to be wanted.””
And for the first time, Quentin looked genuinely afraid that Simone might actually leave.
