Butterfly

by Ashley Antoinette

People didn’t understand her, so she had stopped trying to be heard.

She had vowed to never take another man’s last name … and then he had lied, and she had moved on, and then he had died, and although she was still walking and breathing, on the inside, she had died too. Bash was proposing to a ghost, to a shell of the person she used to be. She was rotten on the inside.

He was your first love, and you two were so passionate. It was obsessive. It was almost dangerous. The way you loved one another … people don’t love like that. I’ve never seen anything that intense,

Nobody is going to make you feel that again. Be grateful that you felt it once in a lifetime, but don’t stop yourself from being happy by trying to measure everything up to that feeling Messiah gave you.

Morgan followed Isa’s eyes behind her, and her stomach hollowed. Ahmeek walked out of the men’s restroom, wiping his suit down in irritation. He was walking perfection, he always had been, but the past two years had done him well. He was a walking god in a black suit.

“If the goal was to stop niggas’ hearts, Mo, goal fucking accomplished,” Meek complimented, placing a hand to the left side of his chest, squinting with a smile.

“He doesn’t know that I named our son after Messiah. Please don’t make a big deal,” she said.

Everything had always revolved around her. Not until she became a mother did she truly invest into someone else. Their needs, their wants, their everything trumped her. She was ready to say fuck this entire charity to be there for her baby.

“Nah, I ain’t got that,” he returned. “I wouldn’t mind one of these, though … one day.” “You’d have to settle down for that to happen, Meek,” Mo said. “I’d settle down. Not for just anybody, but if I caught a real one, I’d be with the shits.”

“See, a nigga know how to boss his shit up for the right one,” he said.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Mo. You got me out here on some suit-and-tie shit. The least you can do is take a nigga arm and pretend like you believe I’m good enough to be in your world,” he said. Morgan placed a hand to his elbow and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re good enough, Ahmeek,” she whispered.

Two years feels like forever ago. You’re the same, but you’re different too. You were a girl back then. You’re a grown woman now, a fucking mother.

“I’m glad you came, Meek. Thank you for coming all this way. I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. You reminded me of who I become when I feel confident.” She paused. “You made me feel strong tonight.” “You’re strong as shit, Mo,” Meek stated. “Stronger than anybody I know. After what you’ve been through. Your whole life has been hard, and this is where you end up? That’s strength. I’m proud of you.”

She loved that part of him. He was hard, but not cold. Gangster, but not cruel. It was the day she discovered he would do anything to make her smile. “I mean, I can squeeze out a tear or two if it’ll make you say yes,” she countered.

Meek was just a smooth-ass nigga. The things he said, but even more what he didn’t say … smooth. The way he walked … smooth. The way he commanded … smooth. The way he pulled her closer and tapped on the small of her back as they danced … effortlessly smooth. Morgan swooned as she followed his lead, side to side, swaying like a couple. Only they weren’t, but damn if they didn’t look couple-ish. He was a hood nigga in all his hood nigga glory, but he was top shelf. VSOP. He knew when to turn it off. Taking him in didn’t come with a bite. He was smooth. An effortless gangster.

The way he held her made her feel protected, like he would die before he ever let anyone get close enough to do her harm. She hadn’t felt this secure since Messiah, and it snuck up on her, beguiling her into a comfort zone with a man she should not be comfortable with at all. “I’m really glad you’re here. I needed you and didn’t even know it,” she whispered.

She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. It was supposed to stay trapped in her head where an explanation wouldn’t have to follow, but they had slipped and now he was probing her, now he was wondering. Now he knew that her refuge was in his arms. That the comfort she felt even after removing herself from his life for two years was overwhelming. Morgan was swallowed by confusion because she had never felt anything for him before. Sure, they had been friends, but her emotion was so bound by Messiah that she had none left over for anyone else.

Morgan wanted to pull back because the connection frightened her, but she fit perfectly in Ahmeek’s embrace.

It just made her feel lighthearted like it was two years ago, and every fiber of her body had been kissed by love, only a different set of hands were holding her now. How was it possible to feel this again with someone else?

She was growing to love him, but she wasn’t in love. Being in love felt different. She felt something for him, but it wasn’t that.

London was a new life for her, but she was still so Flint at her core. Keeping that part tucked, stifling her voice so that Bash could feel heard, so that he was secure about his position in her life, sometimes made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. She was breathing deep tonight, and her lungs expanded, pulling it all in because it tasted like freedom.

Meek shot her a wink, and she smirked as she let her feet work like only she could.

“You should,” Meek said. “Michigan misses you.” “Is that right?” she asked, smiling. It felt good to be missed … to be thought of … by someone who didn’t consider others easily. By someone who didn’t really know how to let emotions show. It made her feel special. To be missed. Aria sat and slid her phone across the floor. “The fans miss you too.”

“I can see you’re not happy, Mo. If he can’t, it’s because he doesn’t want to or because he don’t know you,” Meek stated.

“I pay attention,” Meek said. “I know you don’t want to get married.”

“Fuck was we gon’ do? When the queen come through to burn shit down, you just let the queen burn shit down,” Meek stated, licking his lips as amusement filled his eyes.

“The weight is nothing; that’s bitch shit,” Meek stated. “A real nigga gon’ appreciate that shit … he gon’ replace your fucking wardrobe every three months anyway so you ain’t even gon’ stress that shit. A nigga can see from a mile away that you got it. Always had it, never lost it, no lie.”

Men like Ahmeek should come with warnings. Proceed with caution. Danger ahead. Slippery when fucking wet.

“I don’t be gaming women, Mo. They do what they want. I don’t ask for shit like this. They searching for attention,” he answered.

“If you were my girl, I’d give you the passcode, the safe code, the social security number, the ATM pin, all’at,” he replied.

“Every woman ain’t like you, Mo. They ain’t worth building with,” Meek stated. Morgan met his stare. “I hope you find someone worth something to you one day, Meek,” she whispered. “You deserve to know what that feels like. Loving one woman more than anything else in the world. Having someone you would kill for … die for … without thinking twice.” “That’s what love is? Being willing to die behind something? What I need a girl for? You give me that. How I’ma find a girl that understand that? That I’ll lay a nigga down for Morgan Atkins? What girl you know gon’ accept that?” he asked.

“You guys remind me of a time in my life when I was happy. It feels like forever ago.

“You weren’t a joke, Mo, and a lot changed for Messiah after y’all got together. A lot changed for us all. It wasn’t just him. We all loved you. We all felt fucked up about how it was going down,” Meek admitted. “We still got love for you, Mo. If nothing else, I would like to be able to call Morgan Atkins a friend. I’m sorry for everything I did to contribute to your hurt, Morgan … to make you change into what I’m looking at, because what you were before was perfection. For that, I’m sorry.”

“When you come home, hit me up. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing,” Meek stated. “You mean whoever you’re doing,” she teased. He shook his head. “You don’t cut a nigga no slack.” He snickered. “Not ever,” she admitted, smiling. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Bye, Meek.”

Aria craned her neck back. “Your main?” she scoffed. “Now there’s a main? Why are you here, then, Isa? If you have a girlfriend?” “Because this where I want to be,” Isa said. “And I do what the fuck I want to do.”

She enjoyed his company, but she knew it was only because he wasn’t hers. He didn’t owe her any loyalty, any explanations. He spent money, took trips, spent time with her at her whim, all without a physical connection. They were friends, and although the attraction was there, Isa was a ladies’ man.

She didn’t want to be the girl trying to train a dog because at the end of a day, a dog was going to do what a dog was designed to do … chase pussy.

“You’ve got to work for me, and I’m not talking about spending money. You’ve got to show me that you’re worth my time and that you’re worth my energy. Sex is more than physical. I want you.” She held up his phone and then tossed it to him. “Not all of them. I don’t want their energy infecting me.”

Aria would call him just so he could warm the other side of her bed. She felt better with him around. It was the only time she could close her eyes without nightmares. He eased her soul, even with all his women, and even with all his bullshit, Aria valued the odd bond they shared.

“I hate you,” she whispered. He craned his neck backward so he could look in her eyes, then he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I hate yo’ ass too. Hate you like a mu’fucka.”

The hardest thing he had ever had to do was disappear from her life, but it was the only way to get her to grow, to get her to move on. Morgan was a butterfly. Messiah had been her cocoon.

She had taken him from the hospital and declared his status as null in the system. He’d been transported all the way to Maryland, where she practiced at Johns Hopkins.

She appreciated the way he worried about her. He was accommodating. He was caring. He was honest. He was handsome. He was … fucking boring.

she would never admit it, but Meek was there too. Flutters filled her mind just thinking about him,

Meek was trouble, but he made her feel again … he listened … he was the only one who could see that she was drowning in a roomful of people. He noticed the vacancy in her eyes when she smiled. So instead of turning back, she was like a moth drawn to the flame … Morgan was tired of running. She just wanted to go home.

Over the past two years, she had learned a lot about love.

The only love that could endure her type of defiance was parental.

“Some people like to watch themselves have sex. My dancing is like sex, and I like to see myself cum. You want to slide to the side?”

She was being faithful to a man that wasn’t even her man while he was entertaining a flock of women.

feelings were hurt because she wasn’t the one calling, she wasn’t the one wondering where he was and hoping he’d pull up. That had never been her thing. Chasing a man. Her mother had taught her long ago that men were built to hunt. Aria knew the game. If she was too accessible, too interested, too approachable, men would come fast and leave with even more haste, so Aria flipped the game. She was hard to get and, therefore, harder to let go of. Once a man captured her, he felt like he was getting a prize. No one had been awarded the trophy yet, and she could see it in Isa’s eyes, hear it in his tone, and feel it in his touch