42. 🍸 Midnight Moon 1.0

**KEKE**

These last two weeks, have been filled with work, a bit of sight-seeing, and packing for Oakland and the brownstone.
I’ve emptied Lilli’s room except for her furniture, my duffle and the clothes I’ll be wearing on my trip home—tomorrow.
The days have flown by so fast they were a blur. We didn’t see much of New York at my insistence. I wanted to spend the time with the kids, Justice, and the friends I’ve made.
Jenna and Pippa along with Xaver and Bobby came into Clancy’s the Wednesday after Thanksgiving and we all had dinner over at Jenna and Bobby’s last night. Sebastian graciously worked the bar with Sam to allow us to spend time with them. I thanked them both with a homemade apple pie.
Justice had grumbled about the loss of food until I sank to my knees in the storage room at Clancy’s, unzipped his jeans, and put him in my mouth. Then he was as happy as a cat exploring a new box.
These last weeks have passed much the same as before, workwise. Nights are a different story. Justice and I agreed that even though the kids are fine with us being together, we wouldn’t sleep in the same bed until we moved into the brownstone. That doesn’t keep us from spending a few hours talking after work, mainly swapping childhood stories.
The good, the bad, and the downright sad.
In the beginning, not being able to have sex worked out fine. I had my red-letter days starting the Sunday we picked the kids up from the Sayles’. I ran a five-day course and during that time, Justice kept asking if I was all right.
I told him it was just my period, and it wasn’t like I was pregnant. His eyes took on a special gleam, and it was so touching, my guilt at not telling him about my (possible) infertility burned in my throat.
I hold steadfast, refusing to fall prey to my conscience. I won’t dash his hopes until I know for sure what hoops I must jump through to carry his child.
“Keke,” Justice says, filling the doorway with his large frame, “did you need any help in here?”
“Nope, I’ve done this room,” I say zipping up my duffle with Lilli’s journal buried inside its depths. I found it when I was packing. It’s the same turquoise journal she kept all those years ago. Although the cover has been ripped away, and the pages are worn, her daily thoughts in her familiar scribble are still legible.
I stayed up till the early hours reading it last night. What Lilli wrote on those pages is nothing for the kids to read.
I couldn’t contain my tears when I found out Lilli had been accosted and nearly raped by one of Tia’s boyfriends. Her mom saved her when she unexpectedly came home early from work. Deidre, seeing what was happening, went into action. She beat her daughter’s would-be rapist with a broom until he left their apartment.
Lilli described in precise detail what she went through and how terrified she was during and for many years after. Now I know why she always wanted to come to our house.
She felt safe with my family. With me.
Given the incident, I can understand why Lilli swore off men. I hate that she never told me, but I guess she had her reasons. They’re probably the same as I have for keeping my secret.
And Justice for keeping his.
Lilli had written his involvement in our shooting in black and white. Justice was the boy with eyes like some white-beached sea. He was the one who brought Duncan’s attention to Lilli and he was the one who pulled Duncan off her.
Lilli wrote that Justice blamed himself for her and victim number two (me) for being shot. Lilli never told him it was me, and despite reading to the last page, I don’t know why and I guess I never will.
I think back to the time when I was in the hospital, wondering if I was ever going to walk again. What I remember most about those days was the suffering I went through. It was the sharp ache of a thousand needles piercing my skin. It was the kind of pain that made my teeth clench as the agony rolled from my feet to my brain every time I moved.
If I had met Justice during that time, I would have somehow risen from my bed and put my hands around his neck, squeezing until the life drained from his beautiful eyes.
Without a doubt, back then, I would have certainly blamed Justice.
Now, I don’t blame him at all. He was a child. One so broken he couldn’t see the mistake of his actions.
No, I don’t fault him.
He only has to tell me what happened... in his own time. I can’t cure him of his demons, only he can purge himself.
I watch as he looks around the room, wondering when he’s going to let go of his burden enough to share it with me.
“Thanks for packing up in here, Keke, and taking time to go over the contents with the kids. With the stories you told them about their mother, they were able to pick out a few meaningful mementos I know they will treasure.” His eyes darken with sadness. He brightens a bit when he says, “I’m glad the rest will go to the women’s shelter Pippa volunteers at. I know for a fact the shelter can use her furniture and clothes. Before you came along, I planned to box up everything and put it in storage. Now, people who need it can use it.”
I smile, my heart overflowing with the love I feel for him. The love I plan to tell him of when I know for sure if I can have his child.
Cam appears in the doorway with Seth and D’Andre behind him. “Dinner is ready,” Seth announces with a bright smile. The guys insisted on making my last dinner, as Cam had called it before D’Andre popped him on the shoulder and said he was jinxing me, making it sound like my plane would crash.
Cam had looked so stricken I wrapped him in a tight hug, promising to be back before he knew it.
“It smells wonderful,” I say, rubbing my hands together in anticipation.
The boys precede us down the hall. Justice ushers me forward with a hand on my back, his warm touch making me hungry for him rather than dinner. He’s promised to take me somewhere after we eat, so maybe I’ll have a taste of his body before I leave.
You’ll have that but not his whole story.
I can wait. I have to.
I slip those thoughts to the back of my mind to concentrate on the present. I owe it to the guys, Justice, and myself.
When I sit down, I praise the sparkling kitchen, the table setting, and the aroma of a well-cooked meal.
The guys went out of their way to create my favorites with their own twist: sweet potato casserole with a dollop of whip cream instead of marshmallows, baked chicken with thyme instead of rosemary, garlic toast instead of garlic bread, and a large salad is a substitute for the French-cut green beans I normally serve.
Everything is so tasty, I praise their culinary skills from the first forkful until I put my plate in the dishwasher.
I couldn’t have asked for a better sendoff.
Justice grabs my coat from the hook by the door. With a jerk of his head, he indicates it is time to go.
“We won’t be too late,” I say, looking at Justice for affirmation. He doesn’t answer, but the kids do.
Seth shoos us off with a flap of his hands. “Don’t worry about us, stay out as late as you want.”
D’Andre nods. “We’ll be all right, Aunt Keke.”
“Have a good evening and don’t do anything I would do,” says Cam with a cute twelve-year-old wink.
“If they did what you would do, that would equate to a big fat zero,” D’Andre says.
We all laugh, with Cameron slapping his knee in childish mirth.