I laugh. “Nah, girl. You know I would tell if we did anything. I just want to keep it simple right now. Just hang out and chill. You know? This is all new, so, I’m not trying to go too fast.”

“Yeah, I get it.” And then she gives me a small smile. “Dell has never given away Double Stuf Oreos to anyone, has he?”

“Wait, let me find out that you and Dell . . . Hold up, wait a minute!” I reply, eyes bulging out of my head.

“What?” she asks with a coy smile.

I hurl a pillow at her, and she tackles me. We fall back onto the bed. Her smile fades, then she turns to me and says, “It’s going to be okay, right?”

I turn to her and say the words most Black girls don’t get to hear too often: “We got you. Everything is going to be okay.”

A few hours later, the scent of strong coffee wakes me up. I look at my phone; it’s just ten after seven. Nai is asleep next me. I put on my slippers and go down the stairs. I sit on the steps and listen to the voices coming from the kitchen. The first voice belongs to my mom and the second belongs to a woman I’ve known forever—Ms. Harris, Naija’s mom. I peek in surreptitiously. The two of them are seated at the table with two steaming cups of coffee, but neither of them has motioned to drink it.

My mom must have told her . . .

“I know she’s still asleep, but she’s carrying around the crazy notion that you care more about this guy than you do her. So I think it’s okay to wake her and straighten things out,” my mom says as she brings the coffee to her lips.

Ms. Harris nods but otherwise doesn’t move. She drops her eyes to her mug and stares at the liquid.

“Lena?” Mom says.

Ms. Harris looks up and makes eye contact. The corners of her lips turn up into a wistful smile. “You know where we first hung out?” she asks.

My mom shakes her head.

Ms. Harris’s smile grows into a full-on grin. “We went to the laundromat! Yeah, I know it sounds crazy as hell, but . . . he’d been checking for me for a while. I stayed away because I didn’t have time for another no-good man. And that’s exactly what I told him. He asked what I was doing besides work that had me so busy. I said, ‘For one thing, I got two weeks’ worth of laundry to do. So unless you want to help me do that, you better be going.’