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I should’ve taken everything I said to my grave.
“Ma…”
“No, Ez. Let me have this moment. While I am heartbroken, I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to tell me the truth, regardless of how it will make me feel. You are my son, and I will always support you and love you and be there for you.”
Her having her moment meant letting her hold me and pray over me until her heart was content. By the time she finished, my disposition changed. I was glad I had this moment with my mom. Glad to have her arms strong enough to wrap around me. Glad that she had the strength and sharpness of her mind to speak life and prayer over me. Her doctors warned us from the beginning that there would be a time when she wouldn’t be able to open her eyes or breathe on her own.
“Hand me my purse, please.” Leann always made sure my mom had a purse filled with the best snacks. Thinking I was about to get half of a honeybun, she threw me off when she handed me a small wooden box that fit in the palm of my hand. “Stop looking crazy and open it.”
“Ma, this better not be no heirloom condoms passed down from your great-grand-grand-grand-grandfather.”
“Oh, my goodness. Would you stop being dramatic and open it?”
“Mom, I-I… I don’t understand.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the diamond ring.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? My daddy gave this ring to my mama and when she died, he gave it to me. By the time your granny died, Jeremiah had already proposed to Leann but even then I could’ve given him the ring but I wanted to save it for you.” Taking the ring out, she held it up in the light. “It’s a rare beauty. A cornflower blue sapphire oval vintage ring set in a beautiful rose gold flower top halo. Unique and elegant piece of fourteen-karat gold piece of jewelry. I want you to have it. I want you to give it to the woman that makes life worth fighting for.” She stared into my eyes with declaration, and I knew she was referring to Sunnie.
“Wow. Mom, I… I’m speechless right now. Thank you.” Hugging her tight, I prayed that God would spare her a few more seasons to witness the day I gave my last name to a woman.
“You’re welcome, baby. Speaking of love.” When did we talk about love? “Can you call Sunnie? I want to see that pretty smile of hers.” That made two of us.
I pulled out my phone and called Sunnie. A frown covered my face when she didn’t pick up. “Maybe she’s on a photoshoot, Ezekiel.”
Double checking her calendar that she gave me access to, it confirmed that she didn’t have anything scheduled until later in the week. I waited five more minutes to see if she’d text me like she normally did when she couldn’t speak at the moment. Nothing. No call back or text. I called her on FaceTime her again and she answered, giving me a view of a ceiling but not her face.
“Sunnie Mae, let me see your face, baby.” Leave it to my mom to start squealing hearing me sweet talk the woman of my dreams. Her smile dropped, and I sat up hearing Sunnie crying. “Sunnie, baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Her cries turned into soul breaking sobs. Deep sobs that had my eyes misting.
Picking up the phone and seeing her red, puffy, tear-stained eyes, I was on my feet, ready to go where she was. “Zeek.” She sobbed my name. “Hillary… she’s dead, Zeek. My best friend is gone.”
I felt trapped. Trapped in a nightmare that refused to release me. It was hard to sleep. Images of seeing Hillary hanging from her closet door. My screams mixed with the screams of her mother, replaying in my head like a broken record. Anger gripped my heart tight. Hot, angry tears were a part of my daily makeup. In my trap state of mind, I lived daily in a state of confusion.
None of this made sense.
What had I missed?
“Hillary, babe, this is for you,” Nancy, a popular social media influencer, that Hillary had styled for years, posted an Instagram story of her out at a party living it up.
None of Hillary’s so-called friends and ex lovers were mourning her like I was. Outside of the typical unedited paragraph posts with old pictures, that’s as much condolences they gave. No one called to help with the funeral arrangements or to see how her parents were doing. They just lost their only baby girl to suicide. They were suffering and needed so much love and prayers. Only calls and texts I got were fake concerns that led to them asking how she died.
Assholes.
I hated humans.
Not caring where it landed, I threw my phone across the room and started another round of crying. Fresh pine and cinnamon breezed past my nose as hands lifted me and cradled me against a strong chest. A chest that I’ve been crying and sleeping on for three days now. Like a parent soothing their baby, Ezekiel rocked me in his arms until my sobs simmered down. I don’t know how I could ever repay him for dropping everything to be here with me these last few days.
The day he called me was the same day the blogs found out about Hillary’s death. It broke my heart to pieces how strangers and internet bullies picked apart my best friend’s life like she was nothing. Even trifling ass Simon felt so bad that he deleted his break up post after people were accusing him of being insensitive.
I couldn't care less what people said about me, but them tainting Hillary’s name in death hurt like no other. That shit was foul and uncalled for.
“The car is downstairs, Sunnie Mae. Let me dress you so we can go celebrate the life of a beautiful soul.” Was it bad that I was mourning but also falling deeper in love with Ezekiel at the same time?
When he called me that day, I was sitting in the hallway of my apartment. The Corners Office had already taken Hillary’s body days before. Cops questioned me for hours, and I had to answer questions from her parents. Them wondering how we went from having the time of our lives at her family’s annual reunion in Atlanta days before to now having to bury their daughter. I hadn’t slept since I found her that night. Refused to go back in my apartment, so I stayed right there by the door until Ezekiel came and picked me up. He checked us into a hotel and I’ve been barricaded here trying to piece together the puzzle of confusion.
“I don’t wanna go.” I hiccuped, dreading the ticking hours before Hillary’s funeral started. Her parents tried to keep everything discreet. Had the funeral home sign NDAs but someone chasing fucking clout leaked information and I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with a shit show.
“I know but you’ll regret not going.” Turning my head until his chestnut eyes caressed mine, he kissed my forehead, unleashing another wave of tears. “You’re not doing this alone, Sunnie Mae. I’m right here. Strong enough to carry you and be whatever you need me to be, okay?” All I could do was nod and bury my face in his chest, allowing myself to have another deep cry.
OnceI got it all out, Ezekiel catered to me in ways that had my mourning tears mixed with tears of gratitude. This man brushed my teeth, got in the shower, and bathed me. Went through my entire skin care regimen without guidance and even applied the basic makeup essentials to my face like mascara and lip gloss. He dressed me in a custom suit he had made last minute. An entire line of outfits pulled from one of Hillary’s sketchbooks for her family to wear today in honor of her.
