Heart & Hustle

By the time my shift ended, I felt it everywhere. My feet, my back, even my head. The kind of tired that doesn’t go away with sleep.

“You good?” Tasha asked, already halfway out the door.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’m straight.”

She looked at me like she didn’t believe it, but she ain’t push. “Get home safe.”

“I will.”

I stepped outside and the city hit me all at once. Cars passing, music playing from somewhere down the block, people laughing like life wasn’t heavy. DC at night always had energy, whether you had it in you or not.

I pulled my jacket tighter and started walking toward the stop. My phone buzzed in my hand. Same number. Third time tonight.

I flipped it over without answering.

Some things don’t need to be revisited.

I was almost past the corner when I noticed him. At first it was just somebody leaning against a truck, head down, minding his business. I wouldn’t have looked twice if something in me didn’t already feel off.

Then he lifted his head.

And just like that, I knew.

I should’ve kept walking. I really should have.

“Keisha.”

I stopped.

It wasn’t even a choice. My body just did it before my brain could catch up.

Slowly, I turned around.

“Malik.”

Saying his name felt strange. Familiar, but not in a comfortable way.

He pushed himself off the truck, taking a step closer but not too close. Like he knew better.

“You look good,” he said.

I let out a small laugh. “You don’t get to say that.”

His expression didn’t change much, but I could tell it landed.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me saying you look good.”

“It is coming from you.”

Silence sat between us for a second. Not awkward. Just heavy.

“I been calling you,” he said.

“I know.”

“So you just not answering now?”

“I’m not answering you.”

He nodded a little, like he expected that. “You changed your number?”

“No. I just stopped picking up.”

Another pause.

He glanced toward my job, then back at me. “You still working there?”

“Yeah.”

“You always cared too much.”

“And you never cared enough.”

That did it.

I saw it in his face. That quick shift. Like I hit something real.

“That’s not how it was,” he said.

“That’s exactly how it was.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but I wasn’t giving him the space to clean it up.

“You left,” I said. “No conversation. No explanation. Just gone.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It felt like that.”

That mattered more anyway.

A car drove past, bass shaking the ground a little. Neither of us moved.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said finally.

I shook my head. “Everybody got a choice.”

“Not with this.”

“This what?” I asked.

He hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything I needed to know.

“Exactly,” I said. “You still can’t even say it.”

“It’s not something I can just say out here.”

I laughed, but there wasn’t anything funny about it. “Then when were you planning to say it? Because you had five years.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. That almost made it worse.

“You didn’t ask,” he said.

I stared at him for a second. “I shouldn’t have had to.”

That one sat there.

Because we both knew it was true.

I crossed my arms, trying to keep myself steady. “Whatever you got going on now, that’s your business. But don’t come back acting like we just picking up where we left off.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just wanted to see you.”

“You saw me.”

That should’ve been it. I meant for it to be.

I turned to leave.

“If you knew why I left,” he said behind me, “you wouldn’t be talking to me like this.”

I stopped again.

I hated that I did, but I did.

“What does that even mean?” I asked without turning around.

“It means you don’t know everything.”

I turned back slowly. “Then say it.”

He looked at me, really looked this time, like he was weighing something.

“I can’t. Not like this.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not that simple, Keisha.”

“It never is with you.”

That old frustration started creeping back in, the kind I thought I left behind.

“For once,” I said, quieter now, “just be real.”

“I am being real.”

“Then say it.”

He didn’t.

And that was my answer.

I stepped back. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Keisha—”

“No. I’m done with this.”

I turned and started walking again, this time not stopping right away.

“Keisha.”

I slowed, but I didn’t turn.

“If you knew the truth,” he said, “you wouldn’t even be standing there right now.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest feel tight.

I looked back.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

But he was already getting into his truck.

Engine on. Lights cutting through the street.

Same as before.

Leaving.

I stood there longer than I should have, watching him pull off like it didn’t take him years to show back up just to disappear again.

I told myself I didn’t care.

That I was over it.

That whatever he had to say didn’t matter anymore.

But as I walked the rest of the way to the stop, one thought kept circling in my head whether I liked it or not.

What could he possibly have been hiding that whole time?

And why did it feel like it still wasn’t over?