Chapter 24 - Coming Home
Fall break was Jada’s first night back in the Williams house.
Tamika had asked whether she wanted to stay.
Jada said yes before she could overthink it.
The kitchen looked different.
New curtains.
Different chairs.
Darrell’s chair was gone entirely.
A small framed photograph of Isaiah sat on the counter.
Jada noticed the absence of the gold watch before realizing how strange that thought was.
Tamika had made chicken, greens, macaroni and cheese, and cornbread.
Too much food for two people.
“You cooked like Aunt Renee is coming.”
“She is.”
“Of course she is.”
Tamika smiled nervously.
Renee arrived twenty minutes later carrying pie.
“You didn’t trust us alone?” Tamika asked.
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
Dinner began awkwardly.
Then Renee complained about work.
Jada described Alexis’s obsession with decorative pillows.
Tamika laughed.
For thirty minutes, nobody discussed trusts, court, Darrell, signatures, or money.
Jada almost forgot.
Then she saw the blue folder on the sideboard.
Tamika followed her gaze.
“I found more of Daddy’s papers.”
“What kind?”
“Nothing financial.”
Jada stiffened anyway.
Tamika noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No. It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“Mom.”
Tamika stopped.
“You don’t have to apologize every ten seconds.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Try harder.”
Renee laughed.
“That’s my niece.”
After dinner, Tamika handed Jada a small envelope.
Inside was a copy of Isaiah’s transit retirement photo.
On the back he had written:
TAMIKA TALKS TOO MUCH.
RENEE ARGUES TOO MUCH.
JADA WILL PROBABLY DO BOTH.
The three women laughed until Renee cried.
Then Tamika did.
Then Jada.
The laughter turned into something else.
Grief.
Isaiah had been gone eight years.
Yet his handwriting had somehow governed the worst year of their lives.
Renee wiped her eyes.
“He would be furious.”
Tamika nodded.
“I know.”
“He would have cussed you out.”
“I know.”
“He would have made you pay every dime.”
“I know.”
Jada looked at Renee.
“Is this fun for you?”
“A little.”
Tamika laughed despite herself.
Then she became serious.
“I found a voicemail from him.”
Jada froze.
“What?”
“Old phone backup.”
“Can we hear it?”
Tamika hesitated.
“If you want.”
She played the recording.
Isaiah’s voice filled the kitchen.
Rough.
Warm.
Alive in a way photographs could not capture.
Tamika, stop worrying about that girl leaving home. That is what you raised her to do. If she stays because you made her guilty, you failed. If she leaves because she has somewhere worth going, you succeeded.
Jada pressed her hand over her mouth.
Tamika stopped the recording.
Nobody spoke.
Then Jada looked at her mother.
“He knew.”
Tamika cried silently.
“He always knew.”
“Why didn’t you listen?”
Tamika stared at the phone.
“Because knowing something and being able to live it are different.”
Renee shook her head.
“No.”
Tamika looked up.
“You’re learning.”
Tamika nodded.
“Yes.”
Jada thought about Bellmore.
About how guilty she had felt the first night she slept in the dorm.
Guilty for being excited.
Guilty because Tamika was alone.
Guilty because Darrell was facing charges.
Guilty because Renee had spent money helping her.
Guilty because her grandfather had saved money others could have used.
Guilt had followed her to campus like luggage.
Maybe it had never all belonged to her.
She took Tamika’s phone.
“Send me the recording.”
Tamika did.
No hesitation.
Later, Jada went upstairs.
Her bedroom remained mostly unchanged.
On the desk sat the house key Tamika had offered weeks earlier.
Jada had never taken it.
Now it was attached to a small Bellmore keychain.
She picked it up.
Tamika stood in the doorway.
“I wasn’t trying to pressure you.”
“I know.”
“I can move it.”
“No.”
Jada closed her hand around the key.
“I’m taking it.”
Tamika’s eyes filled.
Jada immediately pointed at her.
“Do not turn this into a moment.”
Tamika laughed through tears.
“I’m not.”
“You are absolutely turning it into a moment.”
“I’m standing here.”
“Crying.”
“I cry.”
“That is unfortunately true.”
They smiled.
Then Jada’s expression became serious.
“This key doesn’t mean everything is fixed.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean you get access to my bank account.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean you call Bellmore pretending to be me.”
Tamika looked horrified.
“I would never.”
Jada raised an eyebrow.
Tamika caught herself.
“Fair.”
Jada put the key in her pocket.
“It means I can come home.”
Tamika’s face changed.
Not triumph.
Not relief.
Something quieter.
“Okay.”
Jada nodded.
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For the first time since June, the Williams house felt like a place she could return to without belonging to it.
That distinction was freedom.
