I let out my first hearty laugh since before the Susan Touric interview. Glad I chose to come see Tasha and not lock myself in my room, holding my breath every time someone comes up the stairs.

“That’s the problem with this generation, going on these reality shows because someone didn’t knock some sense into them before they get on the screen and have their dream snatched on live television.”

“That’s cold, Ma.” Tasha crosses her arms. Then scowls at Daddy Greg as he enters, joining in naming all the careers she should try that require no musical talent.

When things finally die down, Daddy Greg hands over his keys and turns to me. “How’s ‘Tracy’s Corner’?”

“Good,” I say. “The column is getting popular. Readers are up.”

“Most popular with Black folks,” Tasha says. “The rest hate-read. You know them white kids don’t like hearing about Black Lives Matter each week.”

“That’s their problem. And they’re about to be big mad next year when I’m setting up feature stories.”

“Let me guess,” Tasha says. “Court cases and police brutality on every page?”

“Don’t let Tasha give you a hard time,” her mom says. “She stays reading ‘Tracy’s Corner.’ ”

“The editor position is a lock.” Tasha gives a wicked smile because she was just messing with me.

“Better be. I put in as many hours as the editor this year.” I glance at my watch. I want a lot of time with Daddy.

“You got this, Tracy,” Daddy Greg says. “Speak your truth.”

“So, whose fault is it you broke parole again?” Tasha rolls her eyes at Daddy Greg.

“Don’t you start.” Her mom’s tone is icy.

“It ain’t easy getting out and finding work. I’m lucky I did this time. You don’t know what serving six years can do. I was out early, thinking about who’s protecting my peeps. Are they gon’ feel some type a way I’m out?”

“That’s your problem,” Tasha says. “You were thinking about them and not us.”

“Tasha.” I touch her hand. We can’t understand what that life is like. Every moment of your day controlled. The people in there were his family for six years.

“The last three years I was thinking about what kind of man I was gonna be when I got out. An end date became real after messing up. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in there. I was caught up on that before.”

I gulp hard, look away. He’s talking about people like my daddy who aren’t ever getting out.

“I’m sorry, Tracy. I didn’t mean it like that,” Daddy Greg says. “I feel your daddy coming home. I didn’t mean to put you out like that. I’m just saying, I was gonna be ready this time.”