The Art of Falling | Szn 1, Episode Twelve

Weak | Kiyanne

“When I said for you to get your stuff out of my house, I meant that you come get it. Not that I would bring it to you,” Hazel grumbled the second Kiyanne pulled her apartment door open.

“Well, Ma,” she sang, stepping aside to allow Hazel in. “Seeing as how my work schedule has been swamped, it made so much more sense for—”

“Girl, shut up,” Hazel interrupted, ambling to Kiyanne’s spare bedroom to dump her belongings.

Sniggering, Kiyanne headed to the kitchen while yelling over her shoulder, “I don’t think that’s the proper way to treat your only daughter after she’s been slaving all night to make dinner for you.”

After washing her hands, Kiyanne returned to finishing their meal. Tossing the breadcrumb mixture until it was to her liking, she dumped it into a pan and coated the chicken breasts she’d pounded out earlier.

“Uh-huh,” Hazel stepped into the kitchen after relieving herself of Kiyanne’s things. “You must want something.”

Kiyanne released a faux gasp before gesturing to the sink. “I’ll have you know I don’t need a thing from you,” she replied before grinning. “Except for you to turn on the water and put some soap in my hands so I can wash them.”

Hazel chuckled, “I think I can manage that.”

“Thanks,” Kiyanne said after rewashing her hands. “Dinner shouldn’t be too much lon—” a knock at the door interrupted her, and forced one of her eyebrows to raise. “Ma, can you throw that chicken in the grease for me?” she asked, heading out of the kitchen and to the door. “Who is it?”

“Your favorite person in existence,” Shameek announced from the other side, forcing a smile onto her face.

Shifting her weight to her right leg, Kiyanne opened the door and rolled her eyes. “You wish, negro. What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something,” he grinned, piquing her interest as he handed her a gift bag.

Kiyanne’s shoulder shimmied as she accepted it. “Oooh, what is it?”

“Look inside and find out.”

“Kiyanne!” Hazel hollered, making Kiyanne jump. Shameek’s presence was so intoxicating that she’d forgotten her mother was there. “Are you supposed to be cooking or me?”

“Shit, I forgot I was in the middle of cooking. If you want, you can swing by later and watch me open it.”

“A’ight,” he nodded. “That’s cool with—”

“Who is at the door?” Hazel demanded, appearing in the hallway, causing Kiyanne to groan.

“Oh, no.”

Moving her out of the way, Hazel smiled brightly at Shameek. “You must be the neighbor.”

His eyes widened as he looked at Kiyanne. “You told your mama about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was complaining,” she teased.

“Yeah, okay,” Shameek snorted, extending his hand to Hazel. “How you doing, Ma’am? I’m Shameek, Kiy’s neighbor.”

Bypassing his hand, Hazel pulled him in for a hug.

“Come on in, Honey,” she instructed, linking her arm with his after pulling back from their embrace. “I haven’t heard as much as I would like to about you, and I think it’s time to remedy that,” Kiyanne heard her say as Hazel led Shameek to the kitchen. “My daughter didn’t mention how handsome you are. Tell me, how do you feel about giving an old woman some grandbabies?”

Smacking her forehead, Kiyanne closed and locked the door and sucked in a deep breath to prepare herself for the long night that was sure to come.

“Yo,” Shameek chuckled, handing Kiyanne a plate to dry once dinner was over and they were alone. “Your moms is wild as hell.”

“Tell me about it,” Kiyanne muttered, still reeling from the embarrassing dinner she’d been forced to endure.

Hazel had spent most of the evening alternating between telling stories about Kiyanne’s teenage years that Kiyanne would have rather kept secret and interrogating Shameek about how he felt about marriage and kids. Her matchmaking tactics were blatantly obvious, and Kiyanne couldn’t have been more mortified. Thankfully, Shameek seemed to take it all in stride.

“She’s dope, though. She actually reminds me of my mom.”

“Tell me about your mom,” Kiyanne urged. “You say I’m secretive, but you don’t like talking about yourself either.”

Shameek smiled. “My dad passed away a while ago, but from what I can remember about him, he was cool and laid-back. My mother is not. Despite their drastically different personalities, they balanced each other for the most part.”

“How did your mom feel about you moving?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t speak about it before it happened.”

“Why not?”

“That’s a story for another day, sweetheart.”

“Meek,” Kiyanne frowned.

“My relationship with my mom has been rocky for a while, Kiy. I spoke to her recently, but a lot of things drove a wedge between us.”

“Like what?” Kiyanne asked, accepting another wet dish from him.

“You remember I showed you the tattoo on my hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s a mark from a crew I started kicking it with when I was a teenager. Once I got mixed in with them, I made a lot of bad choices. One of those dumb ass choices led to me getting caught with way too much cocaine to explain away. Initially, I was supposed to be locked up for ten years, but my track record and overcrowding had me out in two. I knew once word got out that I was back, I’d end up back on my crew’s radar, and I was over it.”

“From gangster to rapper,” Kiyanne pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “That’s a hell of a leap.”

“And an accident,” Shameek smiled. “One of my boys bet me I couldn’t get a certain number of likes on a social media post of me doing a random freestyle. The post went viral, and through a series of random events, here I am.”

“Here you are,” she repeated, dropping the kitchen towel.

“Hey,” he called, planting his hands on her shoulders as she turned away. “Don’t do that. If you feel some type of way about my past, then tell me. Don’t shut me out.”

Licking her lips, she turned to face him. “I’m just not sure how good an idea it is for us to be connected when our pasts—”

“The past is just that, Kiy, the past,” he interrupted.

“Is it, though? Sobriety isn’t a one-and-done thing, Meek. It is a conscious choice I have to make every day, and temptation is bitch. Especially on harder days.”

His eyebrows dipped. “You think I would put you in a position to be tempted?”

“Maybe not purposely,” she avoided eye contact. “But triggers can be tricky.”

“And I would hope that if I ever did something to trigger you, you would share that with me so I could support you through it.”

“Why would you even want to help me? I’ve made so many mistakes and screwed up li—”

“I’m the one you should be questioning, Kiy. I’d want to help you because, despite us not knowing much about each other, I care about you. And supporting you falls under the umbrella of me caring. I think you need to ask yourself why you feel you don’t deserve that because that’s what makes it so hard for you to accept it,” he said, fingering her cheek. “I’m going to give you some space. Thanks again for dinner. I’ll be next door if you need me.”

And with that, he exited, leaving her alone with her thoughts.