Moments That Talk

*JAMIRA*

Pregnancy insomnia was a rude companion.

One moment, I was sound asleep, and the next, I was wide awake because my son had apparently considered my bladder for his personal trampoline.

Carefully, I slid out of bed, trying not to wake Eric.

That’s when I heard voices—low and tense. It was Kacie and Eric.

I should have gone to the bathroom and minded my own business.

Instead, I paused.

“…she asked if you were mad at her.”

Kayla?

I frowned.

Eric’s voice softened.

“What?”

“She thinks you don’t want to spend time with her anymore.”

My stomach dropped.

Not because I thought Eric would intentionally hurt Kayla. I knew what that sounded like coming from a child.

I had heard versions of it in my classroom.

Did I do something wrong?

Did she not like me anymore?

Why didn’t he sit with me now?

Kids almost always blamed themselves first. That part never stopped breaking my heart. I stepped closer before I could stop myself.

“She misses you.”

Kacie’s voice cracked.

Then Eric: “I’m trying.”

And suddenly, I felt awful. Not blamed or attacked, but awful because whether anyone intended it or not, my son’s existence was already changing things.

I leaned against the hallway wall, my hand resting over my stomach.

Then—a tiny kick.

Like the baby was reminding me he was here.

Real and coming.

And all I could think was: What happens when he actually gets here? Because if Kayla already felt pushed aside now, what would it look like later?

My chest tightened. I shouldn’t have been listening.

But then Eric said something that made me freeze.

“Everybody needs something.”

Everybody.

And maybe he didn’t mean anything by it, but I heard the exhaustion, the pressure, the impossible balancing act.

That’s when the floor creaked beneath me.

Silence. Damn.

Eric turned first, then Kacie.

And suddenly, all three of us just stood there.

Caught.

Eric dragged a hand down his face.

“Jamira—”

I looked at Kacie.

Not angry. Just… sad.

“Kayla thinks Eric’s mad at her?”

Kacie’s expression shifted instantly.

I wasn’t defending myself; I was asking about Kayla.

“She mentioned it during homework.”

God, that hurt. I could picture it: Kayla, head bent over a worksheet, a small voice trying to sound casual. I taught that baby; I knew her tells.

My throat tightened.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Kacie blinked.

“What?”

“I would never want her to feel that way.”

The honesty in my voice surprised everyone.

“I know what kids sound like when they feel left out.”

Eric’s shoulders dropped.

“Kacie, I didn’t realize—”

“I know,” she said softly.

Then I looked at her, really looked at her. And suddenly, everything clicked. This wasn’t just about Eric, or me, or the baby.

It was about a mother watching her daughter lose a piece of consistency. And maybe also a sister grieving her brother.

Honestly? I couldn’t even be mad.

I went out on the balcony to get some air and call Ayana to discuss what had just happened.

….

*AYANA*

It was 1:13 in the morning. So when Mira called, I already knew something was wrong. Nobody calls me after midnight to talk about sunshine and blessings.

“Hello?”

There was silence, then breathing. Then:

“I think I messed everything up.”

I sat up immediately, asking, “What happened?”

And once she started talking, she spilled everything.

From Kayla asking if Eric was mad at her, Kacie sounding hurt, to Eric sounding exhausted, to the guilt. All of it. And when she finished, she sounded small.

“I think maybe I should leave.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Girl, shut up.” She sniffled.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

There was that awkward silence again. Then:

“Ayana—”

“No. Because what you’re not about to do is make yourself homeless every time life gets uncomfortable.”

“I’m not saying homeless.”

“You mean the same thing emotionally.”

That shut her up. Good because what I needed to say required her full attention.

“Jamira, listen to me carefully.”

I threw the blanket off and headed to my kitchen. This moment required my full attention, and I needed to reach her in a way that wasn’t possible while lying down.

“Did you intentionally hurt Kayla?”

“No.”

“Did you ask Eric to ignore his family?”

“No.”

“Did you manipulate your way into that condo?”

“No.”

“Then stop acting like you committed a crime.”

She exhaled shakily.

“But she’s hurting.”

“I know.”

“And Kayla—”

“I KNOW.”

I softened.

“Mira, compassion and guilt are not the same thing.”

She went silent again, which confirmed that my words had resonated. It wasn’t because I was trying to make her feel better or take her side; it was simply because it was true.

“You can care about their struggles without assuming you’re the problem.”

“But I changed everything.”

“Yes,” I said plainly, without sugarcoating.

“And?”

She waited a moment, giving herself time to think. I knew this at this point.

“Life changes,” I continued. “People grow, families shift, babies happen. None of these things make you evil.”

“She’s losing her brother.”

“And you’re gaining a family while carrying a whole human and trying not to lose your mind.”

“Both things can be true.”

That made her cry harder, which meant I was finally getting through her thick skull.

“She probably doesn’t even hate me.”

“She doesn’t,” I said easily. Too easily. I knew people like Kacie—the ones who were okay as long as they were the center of attention. Then, when it was time to make room or when the person giving them what they wanted changed paths, they somehow felt like the victim.

“She hates the shift.”

Jamira sniffled. “So what do I do?”

That was the real question, and the answer mattered as much as I didn’t want it to.

“First, you stop trying to disappear.”

I couldn’t see it, but I knew she was nodding.

“Second, you talk to Eric.”

“I don’t want him thinking I’m complaining about his sister.”

“Then don’t complain. It’s simple. Talk about Kayla.”

A pause. That clicked.

“Because that little girl matters to you too,” I said.

“And if you approach this from protecting a child instead of defending yourself, the entire conversation shifts.”

“Damn. That’s why you’re my girl,” Jamira whispered.

“And Kacie?”

I leaned against the counter.

“One thing at a time.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“Girl, if Kacie didn’t like you, you’d know. And besides, if she doesn’t fuck her, you don’t have a baby with her, so her opinion doesn’t matter right now.”

That actually made Jamira laugh. Good.

“She’s hurting. There’s a difference.”

Then the real truth: “If you want to be part of that family, stop waiting to be handed a role.”

Mira went silent again. This time, it was heavy beyond belief.

“Family isn’t always comforting. Sometimes it’s awkward conversations, difficult boundaries, and choosing each other anyway.”

Jamira inhaled sharply because THAT was the line.

“Talk to Eric first,” I said.

“Then figure out what Kacie actually needs and go from there, but don’t try to save everyone either. Some people have to be left to handle their own lives.”

With that, she hung up, hoping she felt lighter about the situation. I knew I’d hear about the results when she had them. Until then, I’m taking my ass to sleep.