The Devil's Daughter - Boarding Flight
"What's wrong, mama?"
He'd been asking me that since I started packing to come back to the states. Brazil had been an humbling experience for five years, the South American country kept me grounded as a mother.
Kept me grounded as a human period.
I grabbed his hand, throwing his hood over his head as we took steps to enter the private plane of mine.
"Ms. Beyincé." I was greeted by my mother's last name. Something I'd grown to become used of.
"Luther," I replied back. The young flight attendant beamed, if I didn't know better I'd say that he had a little crush on me.
"Mr. Fenty," He leaned down to shake my son's hand.
"Stop being shy, what did I tell you about that?"
Robyn's junior. Her carbon copy. If they weren't forced to talk, they would not speak. It wasn't rude, it was a genuine selectively social, almost antisocial, trait they shared.
Me, being the outgoing social butterfly that I am, I couldn't relate. Whether I was happy or not, being the life of the party and speaking up was what I was going to do.
Zyon stuck his hand out, grabbing onto my thigh to hide his face away from Luther.
"Hi." Was all he said, his jacket covered arm pulled away from the young man, it soon was around my body.
"Is that how you're going to act when you meet Robyn?" I plied him off of me, squatting down to his height.
For a five year old, my son was small. Not the average height a usual five year old would be. I think that contributed to his shyness also, his fear of not being big like the other boys.
Building his confidence was something I worked on faithfully, it all started at home, and I'd be damned if we get to the states and I allow my baby to feel less than good.
"No."
He simply stated.
I walked to the back of the jet with him hot on my heels. We were off to take flight in five minutes exactly, I liked to sit further to the back before take off.
The jet started, taking off in no time.
Zyon sat across from me, his feet dangled off of the chair, his curls stuck from beneath the hood of his jacket.
"Are you okay?" I asked, more than concerned with his well-being.
"I'm nervous, I love her, but what if she doesn't love me?"
Emotional intelligence was something that he had that I wish I had when I was younger. He was vocal about his feelings in the most appropriate ways. He was my inspiration, I more than admired him.
"She'll love you. Don't ever doubt that, okay?" I stood up, going over to his side. He laid his head in my chest and I began to calmly rock us.
"I want to do everything with her. Does she like soccer?"
His voice full of curiosity, I smiled at the thought of watching him play soccer outside from the kitchen window. The picture of his bare feet becoming covered with the earthy ground was what I was going to miss.
He loved soccer, and he was damned good as well.
Something else he shared with Robyn, their athleticism.
"She loves soccer, Bean." His nickname my mom gave him, she'd decided on that when she saw my very first ultrasound.
I thought back to Robyn and the little time we shared together. That meant nothing compared to how intimate and emotional we'd grown in the span.
