JANUARY.
Sayori breathed rhythmically as she neared the end of her two mile run. Music played loudly in her ears as she picked up speed—Koda running alongside her with ease.
On Mondays, Sayori dedicated time in her routine for a run with Koda. Mondays were dreary and Sayori needed the burst of energy—she enjoyed the cold, freshness of the air that infiltrated her lungs each time she inhaled and the wind as it made her long, ponytail travel towards her face.
Arriving in her neighborhood, Sayori slowed down her pace and kneeled in front of Koda, "I'm so proud of you, Koda Man! You weren't being lazy today!"
Koda tilted his head, causing Sayori to laugh as she stood up and walked the rest of the way home. Letting Koda into the house, she watched him begin to eat before heading to the shower and freshening up before work.
Once done, Sayori returned downstairs fully dressed. Her hair was neatly combed into a low braid, a few strands framing her face with glasses sitting on her nose. Although she hated wearing them, she couldn't deny that contacts were too much of a hassle in the mornings.
Glancing at Koda, she laughed as he slept in his bed by the window. He rested on his back, his head hanging slightly off the edge—Sayori thought her dog was a human in his past life, based on the way he acted at times.
As she prepared her lunch, Sayori's mind drifted to Talia. Since last weekend, the two friends hadn't spoken or seen one another due to Talia taking time to herself. Talia rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable—when she did, it disrupted the balance she'd created for herself and it caused her to shut down. Fortunately, Sayori observed this trait during the earlier years of their friendship, so she understood and respected her friend's space.
Normally, Talia would reach out after two days. However, it was now Tuesday—which meant it'd been five. Praying that she didn't disrupt her, Sayori dialed her friend's number, hoping she'd pick up.
"Hi Mocha," Talia said on the other line, "I'm sorry I didn't call. It's just been hard."
"No need to explain, Tali," Sayori said sweetly with a small pout, "I only wanted to call and make sure you were okay, honey."
"I don't know if I am, Yori," She could hear her voice crack, "I'm starting to question everything. With Darrin and with myself."
"I know," Sayori empathized, "Remember that how you feel is valid, Talia. You come first—everything about you comes first."
"I wish it was that easy. I just need space from him, Yori. He just won't let me rest," Talia cried, "He doesn't see the principle of anything he does."
"I hate that I allow him to have such a hold on me. I'm starting to learn that loving someone is not enough," She continued, "It's never enough."
"It's enough, baby. You know that your love is unconditional, but you have to learn your limits, Amira," Sayori placed her earphones in, "You can only take so much from someone you love—even if that love is without boundaries."
Though she couldn't speak from experience, Sayori knew Talia. She loved with her entire being and nothing that anyone did could stop it—until she was fed up. It was heartbreaking to know that Talia had to experience the reality of things in the way she was, but it would only make her realize how much she deserves someone better.
"Grand rising, Loves!" Sayori smiled as she entered the building, "Breakfast will be in the break room."
Sayori and her staff had an amazing relationship. It never occurred to them that Sayori was their boss, simply because she held everyone—even herself—at equal standards. She made the workplace as peaceful as possible—never letting any of her employees go unnoticed.
"What did we do to deserve you?" Delilah, a nursing student pouted. She was nearing the end of her schooling as well as her pregnancy, which made her extremely emotional.
"Here she goes," Vani laughed, "About to start boo-hooing!" Everyone laughed as Delila gave her the middle finger.
"You are something else," She referred to each of them, "After you eat, please review the paperwork I gave you. Each resident needs to have appointments scheduled as well as those being released back into the care of their families. I need those papers no later than tomorrow morning. Please and thank you!"
Everyone obliged before going towards the break room. Sayori unlocked the door to her office, turning on the lights. Taking a seat, Sayori looked through her emails and scheduled visits before heading out to make her rounds.
To start her day, Sayori visited Ms. Leticia Brown or Ms. Lettie. She was the oldest in the Home, and undoubtedly the most cranky. However, Sayori knew how to bring the sweetest side out of her.
"Ms. Lettie," Sayori smiled as she knocked on her door before entering, "It's Sayori."
"My stories are on, Ms. Yori," Lettie rolled her eyes, "Make it quick."
"Now why are you being mean today?" Sayori tilted her head, "Aren't you excited to see me?"
"Aren't I always?" She spoke with a sarcastic smile, "Guess what?"
"What happened?" Sayori asked, checking her vitals, "You got some tea for me, Ms. Lettie?"
"Chile, no!" She straight faced Sayori, "I'm meeting my great-great granddaughter today!"
Sayori lived for these moments—witnessing the excitement on the residents' faces when family members came to visit. It was one of the main reasons she chose her career path—to celebrate with the residents and bring joy back into their lives. Moments as such warmed her heart each time they happened.
"That's so exciting! What's her name?" Sayori recorded her vitals, "I know she's just as beautiful as you are!"
"Her name is Malia Armani Brown," She smiled, "If you would like, I want you to stay and meet her, too!"
Feeling uneasy, Sayori only smiled and nodded, "I will try my best, Ms. Lettie. Just like I take care of you, I have to take care of the others."
After informing Ms. Lettie of her upcoming appointments, Sayori exited her room and headed toward the next resident. Realizing who was next in rotation, Sayori's mood improved rather quickly.
Approaching his door, Sayori smiled as she heard Mr. Archie's loud and infectious laughter. He almost always kept himself in good spirits, which was needed amongst residents and staff.
"Who are you in here laughing with?" She smiled, opening his door. When she'd noticed someone else in the room, a nervous feeling washed over her, "Oh, hi!"
Sayori's eyes trailed him—he was medium build, with smooth, milk chocolate colored skin and deep, wide almond eyes. His beard was neatly trimmed, the pattern matching his thick curly hair. His facial expression was warm, yet his eyes were hard. She was undoubtedly attracted to him physically—he was a sight to see.
"Hi, Mr. Archie," She smiled, clearing her thoughts, "How are we today?"
"Now you know I can't complain," Mr. Archie replied, "My Grandson is here!"
"This is the one that's been stressing you out?" She raised her eyebrow with a laugh.
"Yes, Ms. Yori! Get his ass," He smiled, "This is my grandson, Imaan. Mani, this is Nurse Yori."
Imaan was taken aback.
Of course, he'd come across beautiful women—but she was stunning. She had a beautiful smile, something that had caught his attention when she'd first walked in the room. Her physical features complemented each other well—a round, baby face with curious brown eyes, a small buttoned nose sitting pretty above her pout shaped lips. Her skin was a smooth and deep, rich tone and glowed underneath the lights in the room.
The energy radiating from her was hard not to notice. She had an aura surrounding her that put him at ease. He'd gotten lost within her, and didn't even realize.
"Mani, you gon' catch flies and an ass-whooping if you don't act like I raised you with some sense," His grandfather's voice interrupted him, "You know better, boy."
Luckily, he was dark and no one could see the embarrassment he felt inside, "My apologies. I'm Imaan. It's nice to meet you, Nurse Yori."
"Just call me Sayori," She responded, "It's nice to finally put a face to a name. You've been stressing him out, so we have some issues." She smiled once more, causing Imaan to do the same. Once he'd caught himself, he quickly wiped it off.
"Nah, I'on want issues wit' you. He told me how you don't play behind him," He laughed as she did the same, "I told him I'll call each time I have good service. He thought I forgot about him, but I could never do that."
"Yeah right," Mr. Archie joked as Sayori checked his vitals, "I already told him he was cut off if he ever does that to me again."
"What you know about cutting someone off, Mr. Archie!" Imaan watched their interaction, "You've been listening to the ladies' conversations, haven't you?"
"Don't do me, you know I know a lil' somethin," He chuckled.
Imaan watched as Sayori remained patient with his grandfather. She handled him with care and treated him like a person—which was something you didn't see in nursing homes. By his grandfather's speech and body language, he could tell he was comfortable with her.
The three of them made light conversation, Imaan focusing his attention on her. He truly couldn't get over how stunning she was—it was mesmerizing.
"Look at 'em, Yori!" He heard his grandfather laugh, breaking his thoughts, "He's still staring!" Sayori turned her head to look at him with a smirk and shook her head.
"It's okay, Mr. Archie. It's cute," Sayori joined him in laughter.
"Chill on me, Pop Pop!" Imaan felt the heat rise in his face. Sayori turned to look at him, a small smirk on her face, "You too, Sayori."
Wrapping up, Imaan listened as Sayori discussed Archie's upcoming appointments and the status of his health. She included Imaan in the conversation, opening the floor for any questions he'd had.
"Make sure to call me if you need me, Mr. Archie," Sayori said, "It was nice meeting you, Imaan. Try not to stress my boy out anymore." She joked.
"It was nice meeting you, too," He looked at her for a little longer than he should have, "And I won't. You have my word."
"Good," Imaan caught her looking at him once more, "Enjoy the rest of your visit." She smiled before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.
His eyes lingered on the door, before his grandfather started to talk, "She's pretty, isn't she?"
"No," Imaan still didn't look away from the door, "She's more than that."
"Big Mani!" Imaan heard as he entered the barbershop, causing him to laugh. He dapped a few recognizable faces before sitting in Rashad's chair.
"I ain't seen you in a minute nigga!" Rashad smiled, "You been out there workin' wit' the rednecks and shit."
"How it feel bein' the only nigga on the boat?" Duke added in, as Imaan couldn't contain his laughter.
Coming to Rashad's spot had always put him in good spirits. It was similar to a small family reunion—especially since he was related to almost everyone in the shop. Unfortunately, he was the youngest of the group and was the bait for most of their jokes.
"They not even that bad," Imaan smacked his lips, "They be lookin' out for me."
"No they be lookin' fa' yo' ass," Rashad commented, "Gon' hang yo' ass like an apple on a tree."
"Man shut up!" As everyone died of laughter, "I see Tam got you on Daddy duties!" Imaan nodded toward the black carrier he had around his body.
"You see me, huh?" He paused, modeling the carrier, "I look good as hell."
Rashad and his wife welcomed their daughter, Sarai, about three months ago. When she was born, both Tamara and Rashad asked him to be Sarai's godfather—which he gratefully accepted.
It didn't take long for Rashad to cut Imaan's hair, and hand the baby off for him to hold. As she normally would, Sarai opened her eyes with a toothless smile, "Sarai! You missed Parrain, baby?" She grinned again, "Yeah? I missed you, too!"
"You need to make one," Rashad said, as the others agreed, "You always somebody Uncle or some shit. Them kids gettin' bored—they need a cousin."
"I love my nieces but hell no," Imaan dismissed the thought quickly, "I love giving them back to their rightful owners even more."
"Boy," Rashad laughed, "Give me my damn baby!"
"How the fu—," Imaan started, feeling a hand hit the back of his head, "Ouch, Ma!"
"You need to learn how to watch your mouth!" Marjorie fussed, standing over the kitchen stove, "You put too much water on that rice, Imaan. It will turn out mushy."
"Well you talkin' 'bout you need to learn this on your own," Imaan smacked his lips, "I can't make nothin' but noodles and sandwiches."
Imaan had stopped by his mother's house with groceries—hoping she'd cook him something to eat. Instead, Marjorie told Imaan that he was going to learn—he was not excited.
As a child, Imaan would never leave his mother's side. If she was in the kitchen making dinner, Imaan would hang onto her pants leg and watch what she was doing. He never took an interest in learning how to cook—he was just attached to his mother.
"Take that pot off of the stove and trash that rice," She instructed, putting her braids into a ponytail, "Put some more in the pot and rinse the rice, Asè. I'll check on the rest of your food."
"How am I supposed to know how much water goes on rice?" He looked at his mom as he dumped the rice in the trash can.
"Baby, use the line on your finger," Marjorie laughed, stirring the contents of the pot, "Let me see."
"Is this enough?" He questioned as she nodded. Imaan placed the pot on the front of the stove, turning around to his mother leaning on the counter with her arms folded, "What?"
"I'm just looking," She smiled, shifting her weight, "Have you talked to CJ?" She lowered the temperature underneath the pot.
"Yes," Imaan nodded, "He came down the other day with Sky."
Imaan could see the sadness on his mother's face. Chance was Anèl's only child—the only thing her sister left behind. It was heartbreaking, knowing that her nephew couldn't bear to be in the same room as her, "How is he?"
"He's doing alright," Imaan waved his hand, "Its that time of year, so he's in and out of it."
"I really want to see him, Mani," Marjorie's voice saddened, "I-I know he can't bring himself to be around me, but I–," Her lip trembled, "He's the only piece of my sister that I-I have left."
Imaan comforted his mother, his arms wrapping gently around her. Marjorie shed tears into his chest, and Imaan felt tears of his own begin to build. Though she didn't cry often, Imaan wasn't built to witness his mother cry—it broke his heart into a million pieces.
"CJ knows that you're his last piece of Aunt Anèl," Imaan rubbed her back, "He needs help, mama. He can't be around you until he gets that help. If he is, his trauma will grow and everything he hasn't dealt with will be projected onto you. Trust me, just as much as you miss him, CJ misses you. It's just best for him to keep his distance at this time."
"I hope he knows that I support and love him through it all," Marjorie sniffed, wiping underneath her eye, "I'll be here when he is ready and even if he never is."
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
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