Page 36 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

They were another two houses in when Erica pressed.

“So, about the shelf?”

“I don’t know.” Vin looked at her. The other moms were lingering behind, giggling in some side conversation, and Vin was about to pick up the pace and put distance between him and Erica.

“I’m not sure of the optics. If that’s a good look.”

“You think Tahli would be jealous?” She grinned.

“Jealous isn’t the word,” Vin corrected. “My wife never has to be jealous. But I would never make her uncomfortable.”

“I mean, do you have to tell her? It’s just a moment for a quick look?” She chuckled like it was funny.

Vin tightened his stare as they stopped for another house.

“I do. She might fool y’all with that sweet voice and smile. But I don’t want no problems with my wife. Nobody does,” Vin gave the truth in jest, as the other moms caught up.

“No way. Little Tahli?” Erica chuckled.

“She may be little Tahli, but she’s also Big Tah-Tah.”

“What does that mean?” Erica frowned for the first time.

“You don’t wanna find out.” Vin extinguished any talks of secret shelves, plowing, or screwing for the rest of the night.

When he got home exhausted, a waiting and eager Tahli was in bed.

“Who won?”

“Milo,” he grinned. “Doll talked with her friends too much. We just weighed, and Doll had 6.8 pounds. Lo had 7.9. They’re all bathed and in bed.”

Tahli clapped as Vin yanked off his sweater, stepping out of his sneakers.

“Proud mama here. So, which one of them Hometown Hoes flirted with my fine-ass husband the most? I bet they were real glad to see you flying solo tonight.”

Vin tried to hide his awe of her accuracy behind a chortle. Tahli was too smart. Not an airhead. Perfect mother. Perfect spouse. Perfect human.

“Nobody,” he lied, pulling off his sweats, leaving on his boxers.

“Liar. I bet it was Erica and her brittle-haired ass,” Tahli breathed through a stuffed nose.

“She’s one of those broads that thinks they’re cute ‘cause they’re mixed.

But the mulatto shit got fucked up and she looks like one of them white pitbulls with the red eyes.

She better be lucky–” A cough followed into a coughing fit. Vin walked over to her.

“Lucky what? Sick ass. You can’t do shit.”

“Oh, I can do…a lot,” Tahli cleared crunchy phlegm. “Take off your draws.” She weakly tugged on his boxers while hacking. “I’m a give you some… some…head.”

“You ain’t putting that yuckmouth on my dick. Keep ya mucus head, baby love.”

She started laughing which made her cough more, and Vin leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Tahli, you’re burning up.” Her skin flamed against his lips.

“Here.” Vin prepared more medicine and forced her to take it. Afterwards, he lay next to her, pulling her sweaty head on his chest. Picking up the remote, he found the Halloween marathon. Part Two was just starting for the whatever-th time that day.

“Yay,” Tahli sang weakly.

“I love that picture of the sunset you sent me,” she uttered. “You know cotton candy sunsets…”

“And tangerine sunrises,” he finished. “I know. Your favorite. Stop talking.” She needed to rest.

“I can smell your sweat, baby,” she warbled onto his arm after.

“Alright. Let me up. I’ll hit the shower.”

“No,” she groaned. “I love the smell of your skin, Vin,” she pressed her nose into his tattooed triceps. “And of your underarms.”

Vin snickered.

“I love your pheromones. It’s my favorite scent. I love you, Mr. Hayes.”

Shame sucker-punched him. That’s how it worked. He’d tainted their love, and these pure times were always cursed by the secret eating at him.

“And you must really love me, laying up with me like this. You’re gonna get sick.”

“Yeah, well…I need to hug on you and kiss on you and watch scary movies with you as much as I can. While I can.”

“Ew! Why you going so dark and melodramatic?” Tahli giggled, before coughing again.

“While I can,” she mocked him. He chuckled. Then gulped.

“You always talk like we on borrowed time or something, Vin.”

“We are, baby love.”

She glanced back to him, concern weaving into her weak and contented gaze.

“Everyone is.”

She didn’t answer, only tuned back to the movie, probably assuming he meant death.

Vin meant something much worse.

If…when…Tahli found out what he was hiding, he’d lose her forever. An ignored dreaded reality, as certain as a death sentence. Like a standing dentist appointment. The ending of the best day of your life. The day before you turned yourself in for a five-year bid.

A quarter into the movie, she was snoring. Louder than usual from her congestion, and Vin delivered a kiss to her wet temple, no longer fevered. As he headed to the shower, he made a mental note to clear his schedule for another pressing issue.

He had to meet Victor.

“Can I tell you something about yourself?” Larry led with after the story, making Vin snicker. Vin was back in his therapist’s office, being candid. Not even sure how they landed on that old Halloween tale.

“Is that allowed?” Larry chuckled. “Are your ears open to process the words that are about to come out of my mouth?”

“Yeah. Go for it.” Vin tossed his fingers before tenting them at his lips.

“I think you may have worked past it or at least found a way to manage it. These things tend to calm over the years. But I’m sensing in some of the earlier stories of your past, a bit of bipolar tendencies. Have you ever been tested?”

Vin rumbled with laughter, but Larry didn’t join in.

“Dalvin, I’m serious. It’s not as uncommon as you think, and there are levels ranging from mild to severe.”

“I don’t have any mental illness.”

“Dalvin, one in eight people suffer from some type of mental health issue, and that’s just what’s diagnosed. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s progress in explained behavior. Can you just humor me for a moment?”

Vin gulped.

“As we discussed, you spent your developmental years in prison which were, let’s be honest, in a constant state of fear.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Vin made very clear.

“Okay. But…definitely in fight-or-flight mode. Constantly. Right? Constantly on the defense. Unable to let your guard down or trust your surroundings. Will you agree?”

Reluctantly, Vin gave the nod Larry fought for.

“So now you come home. You meet Tahli. You have a baby. You get married. You leave your illegal activities, so the thrill of that is gone. Your life is mundane. Content. But mundane. All at once.”

Vin’s leg started to tap. Like there was a nerve. And Larry was dancing dangerously close to it.

“But one thing , the most dangerous thing in fact , about bipolar disorder is this: when people are no longer in fight-or-flight, fear, or anxiety mode, nothing feels right. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, and you have to take the time , years usually , to rewire your brain to accept a calm life.

But until time or medication or therapy does that rewiring, when you’re living that simple life — no danger, no brushes with the law, no yard fights, no survival mode — you create situations for that adrenaline.

For that rush of danger. For that I’m not supposed to be doing this feeling.

That self-destruction. Self-sabotage and bipolar often holds hands.

You have to create chaos in your peace. Because chaos is your norm.

You mistook your chaos for your peace. You don’t fuck up because you want to.

You fuck up because fucking up is comfortable for you. ”

Vin cleared his throat. “So, let’s say that’s true. Then it’s an excuse? That’s weak. I don’t want an excuse for why I blew my life up. I make fucked up decisions and these are my consequences. That’s what I teach my kids.”

“Because that’s what we were taught, Dalvin.

Especially in the black community. We are so damn hard on ourselves.

You should know better is instilled in us.

We’ve been whooping our kids like Massa whooped us for moving to slow, or talking too loudly, or spilling a drink for hundreds of years.

Now we’re breaking cycles. Having conversations.

Figuring out the why. Reasons are not excuses, Dalvin.

They’re reasons. There’s always a reason. ”

Tahli

It’s been said that the devil attacks spiritual progress. He senses the vision and the will to achieve it and then destroys the possibility.

Five weeks since her birthday party, and Tahli finally felt both of her feet on the ground.

Maybe they’d been that way for a bit, but this day, she was aware that lost feeling was fading.

On this 81-degree day, as the sun baked her shoulders in her tank and short shorts, Tahli jogged up her porch steps, iced latte in one hand, cell phone in the other.

“What’s up, Big Tah-Tah?”

“What’s up?” She returned Vin’s cool greeting.

“Aye, listen. Mad traffic on 78. I don’t know if I’ma make it.”

A little disappointed for atypical reasons. “Oh. What time does the show start?”

“Eight. Mind if I send a car?”

“Corey?” Tahli questioned, referring to Vin’s main driver — the only one she would trust to cart her children around.

“Yeah. Corey will do it.”

“Okay. Soon as they get in from school, I’ll make sure they’re ready. You know Terran’s mad. She was like I wanna see Nas. I like Nas,” Tahli imitated their baby pronouncing Nas like Nas car. Vin’s laughter echoed on the other end.

“I got something to make it up to her. I might have to get on my Swiftie shit for it.”

“Oh my God, you’ll be Dad of the Year. You still doing the dance recital Daddy-Daughter performance, right?”

“Yeah. But T ain’t change the song?” Vin sounded hopeful before Tahli burst his bubble.

“Nope.”

“Fuck it. Guess I gotta learn all the words to Superbass .”

Tahli snickered, taking a moment to pace her porch, enjoying the sun’s attention and taking another strong sip of her coffee. “Oh, hey,” before he hung up.

“Yeah?”