Tears in the Rain (PT. VII)

2–3 minutes

To read

Earlier that day Walter texted that he would be home late from the job; a problem had come up that had to be rectified. It started to get late, and I was getting sleepy. I at least wanted to be in bed when Walt did come home so he would cuddle me like he used to.

As I was heading down the road about to turn onto the highway, I spotted a black Chrysler 300 pulling out in front of me. I knew it was Walt’s from the plates that read JAQUE a shorter version of his mother’s name Jaqueline Miles. I thought to honk my horn but didn’t see the need as we were both heading to the same destination, I’ll just see him home. I followed Walter all the way down the highway, seeing as our exit was about to come up I started to brace my finger to initiate my turn signal off the freeway. I was thrown for a loop as Walter drove straight past the exit ramp. Where could he be going at a quarter to midnight? To get gas? There was a gas station not even a block from our house. A sharp pain started to bubble in my stomach, that something was off beam.

“Where the fuck is he going?” I questioned out loud.

I trailed Walter down the highway until he turned onto St. Luke’s Road; the dark southern part of town where low-income families tend to reside. Why would Walter be here? My mind raced with a million and one questions, trying to ignore the possibilities of the most obvious answer. Walter drove up a narrow road, up a hill, to a set of somewhat decent homes. He pulled into the driveway of one home; not to give suspicion, I drove past the home and turned at the first street I saw, parking near the curb. I sat there, holding my stomach tight.

Walter got out of the car, locked it with a beep, beep, and headed to the front door walking right on in as if he lived there. My heart was pumping like an Olympic track runner. I could not believe this shit was happening, not like this…

I reached for my cell phone scrolling down to Walter’s name. My thumb froze at the talk icon, I wanted to call him and curse him THE fuck out, but I was afraid. Madison’s words flooded in my head, “Sounds like weakness if you ask me.” The next fifteen minutes I stilled my nervousness. Once I felt they had hardened and cooled enough, I exited the vehicle as quietly as I could; creeping over to the house that Walter vanished into.

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Ama Ndlovu explores the connections of culture, ecology, and imagination.

Her work combines ancestral knowledge with visions of the planetary future, examining how Black perspectives can transform how we see our world and what lies ahead.