“No overnight guests. If you got a man friend you have to meet him elsewhere. Those doors lock at ten, so if you ain’t here by then, you got to stay with him or find somewhere else to go. You got to go to your GED classes in the afternoon or mornings, whichever work around your schedule. Don’t hang your panties or hose anywhere in the bathroom. That’s why we took up a collection to be blessed with the washer and dryer. Draws and diapers and do-rags was hanging up like ghosts everywhere you turned.”

This place had more rules than my mother’s. I started to think I had made a mistake by coming here, but this situation was going to be temporary—unlike the future I envisioned if I had stayed at my mother’s house. She devoured her last lick of cobbler with this final one:

“Oh, and if you still here by the time you have it, and you get back that time … you know—your monthly—just be kind to the rest of the girls and clean up after yourself. Discretion—that can make you or break you too. ’Specially if you a woman in this life.”

Maureen sent me on my way with what was left of the cobbler, a plate of dinner leftovers, and a Bible that miraculously already had my name engraved on it in gold letters: Shivana Golding.

BEFORE I GOT settled into my room for the first night, I needed to make three phone calls. The first was to Rasul so he could psyche me up for the last two: Ma and Jewel.

Me and Rasul were quick. What’s up what it’s like where you sleeping and when I’m gonna see you again. We kept it moving. I dialed Hakim’s number with trembling fingers, and had no pre-planned strategy in the event of an accusation. I spoke with a tongue gritty as a nail file as soon as I heard a voice on the other end.

A woman quickly said, “’Allo?”

I wondered if Aunt Jewel had taken Hakim’s accent along with his hand.

“Aunt Jewel?”

“Oh, no darling,” the woman said. “One second.”

She put down the phone and I heard music, laughter, and voices in the background. There was an eruption of hand-clapping before Jewel picked up.

“Hello!”

I could tell she was smiling.

“Hey, Aunt Jewel. It’s me. Shivana.”

For a couple of seconds, she said nothing. In my head, I saw the smile melt away to a less-decipherable expression. At least if there was company, she wouldn’t be too long and stern.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Shivana,” she said softly, and I wondered how to pick her smile up off the floor and put it back on her face. Unfortunately, absolutely nothing I had to say could do that.

“You too. You cook?”