“You’ve been busy,” he says. “I understand.”
“So have you.” My smile belies the ache in my heart. “You turned in the book?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s all behind the scenes, preparation stuff right now.”
“How’s Noah?”
“He’s good.” A smile enters his voice, the one reserved for his son. “Same Noah. Looking for new and inventive ways to rule the world.”
I
laugh, force myself to ask the next question. “And, um…Aiko? How’s the pregnancy coming along?”
Another beat of silence, filled with all the things keeping us apart.
“She’s great. The baby’s growing. Healthy.”
I want to ask if the baby has kicked yet. If he was there for that, if he felt it. If it’s a boy or a girl. If Aiko has that famous glow. If this is bringing them closer…again, reminding them why they spent the last decade together.
Making him love her?
But I don’t ask any of those questions in case I can’t live with the answers.
“You sure you’re okay?” Ezra asks. “Do you need me? I can come—”
“Yes, I need you, but no, you can’t come.”
“Tru,” he groans, my name torture on his lips. “Baby, where are you? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Just a crap day,” I say, my words going watery. “I’m in this poo butt town fighting bullshit legislation that would promote voter suppression. And we lost. People who really needed this win don’t get it, and I feel… I feel like I let people down, you know?”
“You didn’t. I know you did all you could do.”
Right, and the worst part is when it’s not enough. So many times it’s not enough. Tears prick my eyes and it feels good to cry for someone other than myself; to step out of my own problems long enough to consider all the people and communities who’ll be affected when they purge those voter rolls.
“Shit,” I say, my voice wobbling. “Why are people so… God, I hate this.”
Tears run into the corners of my mouth as I think of the poor, elderly women on that committee I’m addressing tomorrow; the ones who have experienced the worst of discrimination. I sniff, appreciating the silence he allows me. He told me once I could take off my armor with him, and even though he can’t see me, I’m naked, vulnerable in a way no one ever sees me. I hope it’s all the hormones I’m taking and not my actual emotions.
“You know what I love about you, Kimba?”
I need to hear this so bad. “What?”
“You save all your tears for the things that set you on fire inside. Anyone who’s ever thought you were cold never got to hear your passion for people, never got to see you fight for them when it’s inconvenient or even a lost cause.”
He’s right. I do save my tears for the things that matter most. That’s why I cry for him.
“Ez, I miss you so much,” I say, my resolve crumbling.
“Tru, dammit, where are you?”
“Alabama.”
“I can come. That’s not far.”
“No.” I breathe in all the reasons he shouldn’t come. Breathe out my desire to have him with me. “I’ll be back in Georgia by noon tomorrow anyway.”
“Atlanta?”