Queen Move (All the King's Men, #3)

by Kennedy Ryan

It’s not weak to cry, Daddy used to say. It’s human.

“We are stardust brought to life, then empowered by the universe to figure itself out— and we have only just begun.” ― Neil deGrasse Tyson, Astrophysics for People in a Hurry

I think every morning when Ezra wakes up, God gives him a tiny jar of words. He only gets so many, maybe a quarter of what the rest of us do. And he’s so scared he’ll run out, he uses as few of them as possible. Half his sentences are one word or a grunt.

Weekends, he talks so little, I bet at the end of the day, he has leftovers.

“You know what my daddy calls it when one person has a head start that the other person doesn’t even know about?”

“What?” “America.”

Neither of my parents really know what it’s like to live here as me. To look around and see no one who looks like you. To live with the stares and questions about “what I am.” To feel like a puzzle, pieces hidden and scattered, and always trying to find and fit all my parts together. To see myself not as half this or bi-that, but whole.

There are so many things I could say to Kimba. I want to explain how splintered I feel sometimes—how there’s something always moving inside me, searching for a place to land, to fit, to rest. I want to tell her it’s only ever still when I’m with her—that she’s my best friend in the world, and I’d rather get punched in the stomach every day than move away and not have her anymore. But that’s too many words that don’t even come close to telling her what I feel.

“Be strong, very strong.” His fingers tighten on mine and he doesn’t drop his gaze or slide a hand in his pocket, or any of the other Ezra things he does when he’s unsure. “And we will strengthen each other.”

“…It feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are.” ― Lang Leav, Soul Mates

I grew up in that district, Stoke, and I may not live there now, but I’ll be damned if I’ll send an ill-prepared, incompetent narcissist who can’t keep his dick in his pants to the House of Representatives on their behalf. We have enough of those already. And I don’t care if you’re my brother. If you’re not in it for the people, you could be my Siamese twin and I wouldn’t stand with you.”

“My father always used to say whatever you do, be excellent,” Kimba says. “Whatever you do, consider others. Big moves make big waves. Do big things. Make big waves.

We love each other, God knows we do, but after a day or so, two alpha females under one roof is a whole-ass mood.

Not a good one.

“The queen is the most powerful piece.”

“Ah. But I don’t just read the tea leaves,” I say, laughing and leaning back in my seat. “I grow them. Some of us wait for the future to unfold, and others bend it to our will. Knowing our probable opposition’s dirt at this stage may prove useful in securing the position itself.

“They diminish us enough without you making yourself small. You descend from queens. And I’m not talking about going all the way back to Africa. I’m talking about your grandmother who put her life on the line as a freedom rider. Your aunt who was a pastor when they said women couldn’t be and led one of the largest congregations in the South. Your great-great grandmother, who, with a sixth-grade education, opened her own restaurant and became one of the wealthiest women in this city.”

I’m beginning to think I should have come home a long time ago.

“I know, but this is just like chess. You are the most powerful piece on this board. All the power is in your hands.”

“I overheard you tell Mona you like to fuck,” he says, trapping the fullness of his bottom lip between his teeth. “So do I. If you’re in the market for someone, I’d like it to be me.”

“You could never be a lot of people, Ez. There’s everyone else, and then there’s you.”

How is she? So pretty it makes my heart hurt to think of everything I’ve missed. Every questionable fashion choice, bad haircut, and acne breakout through high school. All the contouring and shaping and discipline it took to form her into who she has become. How is she? Powerful. Vulnerable. Brilliant. Kind. Ruthless.

These men who think I should bow and scrape to them have me feeling tight and close to my feelings. I could use some loosening.

The years fall away like a torn veil separating him from me, then from now. It hasn’t been years. There has only been one long day for us on which the sun has never set. We were never lost, and this place has always been waiting for our wandering hearts, for our prodigal souls to finally, together rest.

“Because you should know by now that no one could take your particular place.”

I believe that if people are “created,” we were made together. She was there for my scaffolding—there when my flesh was knit over my bones. And if love is not just an emotion, but a type of eternity, an infinity that lives in our hearts, then we have always been in love. It’s an ageless thing that isn’t about puberty or chronology, or even if we get to live our lives together.

But when we are apart, I ache.

“I found several female executives who’d been fired or departed abruptly from one of Colson’s companies or another for suspicious reasons.” “Okay. And?” “And I started digging. They cited a toxic workplace culture.” “Toxic how? Piers, roll it out faster.” “They were all black women who claimed to have been fired or left his companies because they’d been asked to change their hair.” “Their hair? Change it how?” “They were told their hairstyle was ‘too black’ and asked to find a style more appropriate for the corporate culture. Some of them complied and spoke out after they found new positions. Some didn’t and found themselves with low scores at their next performance evaluation, and eventually pushed out altogether.” Outrage on behalf of those women bubbles up inside of me. Outrage and understanding. I know what that’s like. Working in politics in DC, I know what it’s like to feel like the token and expected to speak on behalf of an entire community. I also know what it’s like to press and perm myself into the form most likely to succeed.

“In chess, when you run an attack on your opponent, you need the queen’s strength. It’s easier to capture a king using the queen than any other piece on the board. You are running offense on Ruiz’s behalf.”

“Oh, certainly. I’m used to being one of the only in many of the circles where I’ve served the last two decades. And the microaggressions are many and never stop. The awkward questions about my hair, people touching it without my permission. Those things are unacceptable, but practices like these cited by the women who worked for Mr. Colson? Those affect our pocketbooks and how far we can go, not based on our performance, but based on something as superficial as our hair.”

“For black and brown girls, the world is full of sharp edges, and with every step forward, we risk being cut,” I say. “We have enough to worry about. Our hair shouldn’t be a hazard. Our hair shouldn’t be an impediment to success. We need candidates who understand that. Who understand us. I hope the state of Georgia has other candidates to choose from. Someone besides Mr. Colson.”

Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. I look up to the heavens and offer a silent alleluia.

“But I want to be the last,” I tell her, letting her search my eyes, my face so she’ll see the truth I can’t hide from her anymore. “I couldn’t be the first, but I want to be the last. No one else. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Daddy used to say don’t waste time on things that don’t set you on fire inside, and I haven’t. Every campaign, every election, each candidate—I’ve believed in. I believed that putting that person in power advanced one of my convictions.”

She bites her bottom lip. “I felt the same about people. I didn’t want to waste time on anyone who didn’t set me on fire inside. And there have been people I liked, people I enjoyed sex with, but no one I wanted to build a life with. That’s why I never committed. No one ever set me on fire inside.” She looks over at me, her eyes telling me before her words do. “Until now. You set me on fire inside, Ezra Stern.” I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow. I can’t move. My composure teeters on the head of a needle, but I at least have enough presence of mind to know exactly what I should say right now. “I love you, Tru.” It feels like the words have been waiting on my tongue for years, for the moment when I was old enough, free enough to feel them, to say them. The look on her face says she’s waited that long to hear them from me. She slides her fingers into my hair and touches her soft lips to mine. “I love you, too,” she says. “So much.”

“I belong to myself,” she says, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “And to the boy who married me when I was six years old.” I pull back and stare down into her eyes, alive with love and peace and fire. “You remember.” “I remember everything. You owe me a lifetime.”

“Hard as hell is your default setting,

“I don’t just want you when you’re strong. I want you when you’re vulnerable, when you’re lost, when you’re not sure. I see the armor you have to put on to make it in your world. I just want you to know here, with me, you can take the armor off.”

“When it comes to love, some messes take longer than others to clean up.” Mama’s smile is wise. “Believe me—I know.”

“You save all your tears for the things that set you on fire inside. Anyone who’s ever thought you were cold never got to hear your passion for people, never got to see you fight for them when it’s inconvenient or even a lost cause.”

He’s right. I do save my tears for the things that matter most. That’s why I cry for him.

“Study your queen so you can give her what she wants without asking.” Nipsey Hussle, Musician, Activist, Entrepreneur