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?”

“No, we’re set up out of Athens right now. It’s easier for Mateo’s family.”

“Do you know what I would give to have one night with you?” There’s a desperate need in his voice that drops a hook in me, pulls me from drowning. I’m caught. I’m his, but it’s not time. But, God, I’m tempted.

“Is it a boy or girl?” I force myself to ask, needing to remind myself why I need to wait.

“Tru, don’t.”

“Boy or girl, Ez? You should know by now.”

His breath releases on a tired stream. “It’s a girl.”

I lick at the fresh tears collecting in the corners of my mouth and glare at the little bag of needles and hormones, my weapons to fight for what comes easily to so many other women.

“You’re happy, of course,” I say, keeping my voice as even as I can.

The line goes quiet with his held breath. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, the thing that would drive me away. Further away.

“Fair’s fair,” I say, my voice deliberately light. “If I’m honest with you, you have to be honest with me. You’re happy?”

“Tru.”

“This is why, Ezra. This is why you can’t come to me, why we can’t be together right now. I…I’m happy for you. I just can’t watch.”

He clears his throat, and when his voice returns, it’s husky, raspy, stripped. “What about you? Have you been back to the specialist?”