Page 3 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Niveah

My phone was tucked between my cheek and shoulder as I stood in front of the mirror, dragging a chestnut brown liner across my bottom lip with precision. My skin glowed like melted chocolate. The kind of skin they write poems about but never get to touch.

“Mmm,” I hummed, slow and syrupy. “That’s the thing about you. You walk like the world owes you something, but your heart still folds when nobody’s looking. I know that type.”

The man on the other end of the line didn’t speak at first. Just a breath. Deep. Raspy. Soft, like he was sitting somewhere expensive, finally feeling seen.

“I’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” he said. “Like… really see me. Your mind is just so beautiful.”

They always said that. Because It is.

“You've been holding so much in,” I whispered. “The family. The business. The pressure to always have the answers. Who holds you when it’s heavy, baby?”

His breath caught.

Hook set.

“Niv…” He sounded undone. “No one understands how hard it gets.”

I had a strategy. A price list disguised as poetry.

He cleared his throat. “What you got going today?”

I adjusted the straps on my bodysuit and gave my reflection a slow once-over. Waist snatched. Hair long and thick. Gold hoops. Diamond jewelry on my wrist and ankles.

“About to run to the bank,” I lied. “Gotta get some cash out. My sister’s nanny has been holding us down, and I couldn’t pay her last week.”

Another pause on his end. Then, like clockwork—

“You should’ve said something. I’ll wire something now. What’s her name?”

My smile was slow and smooth.

“Mine.”

He laughed. “Say less. Check your account in ten.”

And just like that, rent, utilities, a new perfume, and brunch with my bestfriend Ty was handled. From a conversation. No panties removed. No moans performed. Just a mouth and a man who hadn’t been listened to in too long.

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

I slid my feet into gold slide-ins and glanced at the phone.

“Soon,” I said, then smirked. “We’ll talk.”

Translation? On my time. Never his.

“NIIIIIV!” my brother called from the hallway. “You said we were leaving twenty minutes ago!”

Thank you, God. Saved by the kids.

“Sorry, baby,” I said quickly, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “My babies are calling. Duty calls.”

“Aight,” he said, reluctant. “You gon’ hit me later?”

“Mhm. We’ll talk.”

Click.

I tucked my phone into my purse and stepped out into the hallway where my brother stood, all 6’2” of him leaning against the wall with an attitude.

I walked straight up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Man, what the hell—”

“You used to suck your thumb and piss on yourself,” I smirked, pushing past him. “And I was the one changing your little pamper with your tiny penis. Don’t ever act too grown for my kisses.”

“Yo, stop. Nah, forreal,” he groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “You gotta chill.”

I laughed, grabbing my keys off the side table. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I’m headin’ to the car now.”

“Okay,” I nodded, glancing at the time. “Ima run in the kitchen to see Heidi real quick and then I’m comin’.”

“Aight. Bet.” He opened the front door and walked out, his tall frame moving like he knew he had a little muscle now. I watched him for a second, heart heavy and full.

He used to barely reach my hip. Now he was taller than me, voice deep, thinking he grown.

We came so far.

I walked into the kitchen and was hit with the scent of cinnamon and warm toast. Rita stood at the sink, hands deep in soap bubbles, cleaning the dishes from breakfast. Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf, and she was humming the same song she always sang when she was in a good mood.

“Buenos días, hermosa,” I called.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” she replied over her shoulder. “La comida está en el horno si tienes hambre.”

I walked past the counter and kissed the crown of Heidi’s head. She was sitting at the bar in her pink leotard, feet swinging as she worked on her coloring book.

“Morning, superstar,” I whispered.

Rita turned and said, “She has ballet class in an hour.”

“I know, I know,” I smiled, turning to my little sister. I grabbed her soft cheeks and kissed them all over. “You keep practicing like this, and you’re gonna be the best ballerina in all of Antionette.”

Heidi giggled. “Promise?”

“I pinky promise.” I stuck my pinky out and she locked hers with mine, sealing the deal like it meant everything.

I kissed her one last time, straightened up, and looked at Rita. “I’m headed to take Hux to basketball. Gracias por todo.”

“Claro, mi reina,” she said with a soft smile. “Be careful.”

Rita had been with us for the last three years. What started as a part-time gig to help with Heidi became a full-time presence in our lives. She cooked. She cleaned. She braided hair and reminded me when my own appointments were. She mothered when I couldn’t.

At first, it had just been me and Hux. Years of just us—me figuring out school drop-offs and lights turned off. But at twenty, everything shifted. Mama showed up talking about how she was clean, how she was different, how she met a man in rehab who was gonna change everything.

His name didn’t matter. What mattered was the newborn baby she came home with.

Heidi.

And for a second—just a second—I thought maybe we had a chance at being normal again.

But six weeks after Heidi was born, her dad relapsed and two weeks after that, he died.

Mama followed him right back into the darkness. No fight. No farewell. Just disappeared into herself again.

Getting full custody of my siblings wasn’t even a question.

And I did what I had to do to keep them straight.

Rita was a gift. She lived with us free of charge—my decision—and I made sure she was paid well enough to send money home to take care of her kids and grandkids. Because when someone loves your family like their own, you don’t just pay them. You bless them.

“Love y’all,” I called over my shoulder, heading for the door.

“?Te amo también!” Rita yelled back.

“Love you toooo!” Heidi shouted.

And with that, I stepped back into the world, keys in hand, body snatched, bank account freshly blessed, and a teenager waiting in the car like I didn’t wipe his ass fifteen years ago.

The projects still smelled like fried bologna and busted dreams, but somehow, it felt like home.

I pulled my car up to the curb slowly, letting the speakers fade as I threw it in park. The heat hit different out there. Doors wide open, box fans in windows, somebody’s auntie out on the stoop still in her nightgown yelling about stolen hot chips and kids doing too damn much.

As soon as I stepped out, the madness started.

“Well, look who decided to come back to the trenches!”

“Damn, Niv! That you?! Lemme hold somethin’!”

“Girl, you too fine to be walkin’ out here wit’ all that! We need a warning bell or somethin’!”

I laughed, locking my door and tossing my keys in my purse. “Y’all still loud as hell and still broke. Some things never change.”

“Don’t act brand new now!” Old Man Roosevelt hollered from his plastic lawn chair. He’d been sitting there since I was thirteen. Swore he once dated Aretha Franklin.

“New? Baby, I’m luxury with a hood refund policy. Don’t play with me,” I called over my shoulder.

The whole sidewalk laughed.

“Luxury with a refund policy” was gonna have them talking for weeks.

I made my way toward the back stairwell. The building looked the same. Paint chipped, doors off hinges, some little kid’s bike abandoned by the dumpster. The ghosts of who I used to be hung in the air like summer sweat.

A group of girls stood near the second railing, all crop tops, lashes, and rolled eyes. I spotted Zejah. Fourteen. Smart mouth. Too grown for her own good.

I walked over and tapped her shoulder. “Lemme holla at you.”

Her friends melted away like they knew the drill.

Zejah folded her arms. “She in there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How’s she been?”

She shrugged, eyes dropping to the ground. “Not too good. Some dude came by last night. Tall, tattoos, talkin’ real low. He was in there a while. She came out after he left and just… sat on the porch. Got high. Fell asleep. I went in around midnight. She was still out there.”

“And this morning?”

“She was gone. So I guess she made it inside.”

I exhaled through my nose. Same cycle. Same slide.

“Thanks, baby,” I said, slipping her a folded fifty.

She took it without a word, tucking it quick like we were passing contraband.

“You call me if something looks weird or off, you hear me?”

Zejah nodded. “I already know.”

That’s why I trusted her. Not with everything. But with enough.

She wasn’t just nosy. She was watchful like I used to be.

I gave her one last look and turned toward the stairs—the same ones I used to run up two at a time with a toddler on my hip and groceries balanced on one arm.

The spare key was still hidden under the busted flowerpot by the door. Same fake-ass ceramic rose glued to the top, chipped and leaning like it had been through one too many storms. Everybody in the hood knew that was the hiding spot.

The door creaked open and the minute I stepped in, it hit me.

It smelled like somebody lit a blunt, busted a nut, and never opened a window. It smelled like a can of Bounce That Ass was left in the microwave on high.

“Jesus,” I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face. “I know crack smells like regret, but this is just disrespectful.”

The living room looked like chaos had signed a lease. Blankets thrown everywhere. Ashes on the table. Takeout containers. The kind of mess that made your skin crawl.

Growing up, I used to clean the place religiously just to feel like I had some control. Since I left with Hux and Heidi, the house had clearly given up. And so had she.

I walked down the hall and knocked once on the bedroom door before pushing it open.

“Mama.”