Twenty-Four
Here’s That Rainy Day
I jump out the Lyft and run up the stairs of the duplex Naima lives in alone, now that her parents have returned to Hispaniola for their retirement years. But rather than relish finally being able to live alone at the age of thirty-six, Naima has missed her parents terribly. The plan for me to give up my apartment in Astoria and move in with her in Jackson Heights a couple months before the baby was born had seemed perfect after I found out I was pregnant. But now I’m cursing myself for getting Naima involved in any of this in any way.
This is all my fault, I think as I climb her familiar stairs, two at a time.
Thank goodness, she got one of those braille keyboard locks for her parents a couple years ago. I punch in the code, and the deadbolt turns wit
