The afternoon blurred into moments.
My father and Ahmir posted up by the grill, talking about football and “these new money CEOs who don’t know how to treat people.” Every so often Daddy would say, “Isn’t that right, son?” like the title had already been formally assigned.
My brother, Deion, pulled Nasir into a spades game that turned into smack talk and a running commentary loud enough for the whole block to hear. Nia floated between the table and the kids, showing Malik how to blow bubbles the size of his head.
Kendra cornered Nia at one point, eyes narrowed in playful interrogation. “So how long you known him?”
“Ahmir?” Nia asked. “Long enough to know he’s too intense for me, not long enough to say no to free food.”
“And Nasir?” my sister prodded.
Nia’s smile went soft. “Long enou
