She didn’t even know how she answered him, because she was stuck. Stuck in the past, stuck in that kitchen pantry he had devoured her in all those years ago. Stuck between the four walls of her bedroom, where she used to grease his scalp. Her memories were like quicksand, and although she was standing there calmly, she was screaming on the inside.

“After the shooting, I mean. I know how you are with shit like that. You good good?” he asked.

Morgan shrugged and looked down at her feet.

“You’re so fucking pretty, man.”

Her eyes shot to his, then teared. Stupid-ass nigga.

“Nah, Mo. No more tears. Not over me. I don’t even deserve ’em,” Messiah said.

“What do you want, Messiah? Why are you here?” Morgan asked. “This is my family.”

“They’re mine too, Mo. I ain’t got you. Ethic’s all I got.”

Morgan felt a bit of guilt because it was true. Messiah had no one. Morgan would have to share her world because, for so long, he had been a huge part of it too.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You,” he answered. He had never been one to hold punches. No point in lying. They both knew why he had returned.

“We happened a long time ago, Messiah. It was like living in the clouds back then. You dropped me so hard. You don’t make me feel like I’m flying anymore. I sink with you. I just can’t let you fill my head with air this time. I’ve got to keep my feet on the ground.”

“Fuck gravity. I want to be high, Mo,” Messiah said. He leaned against the wall and lifted one foot as his eyes penetrated hers. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t join him this time. She couldn’t let him take her to outer space. There was no oxygen there. She would die this time.

“Mommyyyyy!”

The interruption of her screaming toddler felt like relief as Messari banged on the sliding glass door. Messiah opened it, and Messari came rushing inside. He was moving so fast he tripped over his own feet. The dramatic wail that followed the fall turned Morgan to putty. She hated to hear her children cry. Before she could act, Messiah bent to pick him up.

“Yo, that’s a lot of tears, lil’ G. We ain’t about all that. You a’ight,” Messiah coached.

Morgan felt her soul stir. So many days she had wondered what Messiah would be like as a father. Watching him with Messari in his arms both worried and endeared her.

“Slow down, shortstop. You ain’t rounding no bases, homie. Got to keep it, playa. No running.”