"Saturdays"
By ten in the morning, the West Side was already wide awake.
Somebody had been playing the same song down the block for at least twenty minutes. A lawn mower coughed to life somewhere behind the houses. Two kids were arguing over a bike in the middle of the sidewalk while an older woman stood on her porch yelling for somebody named DeShawn to come inside before she came out there herself.
Kiana heard all of it through her open bedroom window.
She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her closet, staring at clothes like they had personally offended her.
A black hoodie was thrown over one shoulder.
Two pairs of leggings were on the bed.
Her Nike slides were by the door.
And somehow, after twenty-five years of living, she still couldn't figure out what to wear when she wasn't actually going anywhere important.
Her phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Kiana looked at the screen.
MEKA: girl
Another buzz.
MEKA: open the door
Kiana frowned.
She hadn't heard anybody knock.
A third message came through.
MEKA: i know you in there
Kiana stared at the phone for a second before slowly looking toward her front door.
Then came three loud knocks.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
"Kiana!"
She closed her eyes.
"Man..."
Another knock.
"Kiana!"
"You got a key!"
"I KNOW!"
"Then use it!"
"I DON'T WANNA!"
Kiana laughed despite herself.
She got up, stepped over a pile of clothes, and walked through the small apartment.
Her place wasn't fancy.
It wasn't one of those apartments where everything matched and there wasn't a single thing out of place. Her couch had a blanket permanently thrown across one arm. There were sneakers lined up near the door, books stacked on the coffee table, beauty products scattered across the bathroom counter, and a little collection of things she'd bought because she thought they were cute but had never actually found a place for.
She liked it that way.
It looked lived in.
Kiana unlocked the door.
Meka pushed past her immediately.
"Good morning to you too," Kiana said.
Meka looked back.
"You would've had me standing outside."
"You could've knocked like a normal person."
"I did."
"You beat on my door."
"Because you don't answer."
"Because I don't want to."
YOU ARE READING
Detroit made me
ActionKiana knows how to read everybody except herself. At twenty-five, she's still trying to figure out who she is and what she wants from life. She has her own place on the West Side, a best friend who's more like a sister, three brothers who would do a...
