when you sleep :: [malik]

"this must be my dream..."

When Zayn thought of New Orleans, he most often thought of beignets and the French Quarter and Princess and the Frog. He more often thought of singing 'gators than he thought of the real Louisiana. The one with the bugs and the heat and the swamp.

Nana--Zhuri's grandma--lived on a goddamn swamp.

In like, the woods.

"Deep in the bayou and shit," said Taj.

Getting off the plane, Zayn thought he'd been kidding. Now, as he follows the siblings from the taxi, and he steps onto the swampy grass, and his Nike's sink in the mud, he realizes that Taj wasn't kidding. He wasn't exaggerating, either.

Boy had been telling the whole truth.

And as Zayn struggles with bags in the muddy grass, and fights off a swarm of flying pests, and breathes in humid, swampy air, he leans towards his girlfriend and whispers, "What happened to the seventh ward?"

And Zhuri laughs. "That's where I grew up," she nods. "This," and she points ahead across the deep grass to the giant house towering in the darkness, "is my grandma's house."

He nods. "Oh...They brought her home?"

Zhuri nods, too. "At her request."

Zayn reaches for her hand.

"This shit is huge," Justin exclaims. "This'd cost a billion dollars in LA."

"It's been in our family for generations," Zhuri nods.

"Most our relatives were born in that house."

Imani wiggles her eyebrows. "Died there, too."

Zayn forces a smile. "Great."

"Our nana's grandparents were slaves, and they bought their freedom and built this house."

"Your nana's grandparents?" Justin blinks. "Why does that seem like it wasn't too long ago?"

"'Cause it wasn't," Taj replies shortly, and he hefts one of the bags from the car. "And I'm hungry as fuck, y'all. Let's go."

"It's about time y'all got here!"

The house reminds Zayn of lemonade. 

And when he thinks of lemonade, he thinks of Beyoncé's Lemonade. He thinks of 'Formation,' with the women all in those old dresses dancing in that old house. 

That house that looks a lot like this. 

And he's close to leaning over and whispering this into Zhuri's ear, when a young woman barely taller than her throws open the door and pushes a pair of glasses up on her nose and embraces her in a giant, tight hug. 

"Asha..." Zhuri chokes, laughing, "You're killing me, girl."

"Sorry, sorry," the girl responds, laughing as she shakes dense, long curly hair around. "I can't give Mani that hug 'cause I'm scared she'll break."

"Ha ha," Imani replies, wobbling in the direction of their older sister. "I'm fine, Asha."

"Yeah, but you got my nephew in there, babe," she wags a finger, "I'm not taking any chances."

"I know. Damn," Taj laughs. "I forget Mani's the one having the baby," he laughs. "Shit's wild."

"Right? She always been reckless."