“Ma, stop,” he said. “This ain’t on Nyla.”
Ivonne froze.
Because that was the first time Terrence had said anything close to the truth.
But before that truth could go any further, karma arrived.
It happened that afternoon.
Ivonne was in the living room on the phone, loudly telling somebody that the whole situation had been a setup. She was angry. Her voice kept rising. Her breathing got faster.
Then suddenly, her words started slurring.
The phone slipped from her hand.
Her face twisted.
And before Terrence could reach her, Ivonne collapsed.
“Ma!” Terrence shouted.
He ran to her, panic taking over his whole body.
Ivonne tried to speak, but the words came out broken. Her right arm barely moved. One side of her mouth drooped.
Terrence’s chest tightened, because even he knew what it looked like.
Stroke.
The ambulance came fast—but not fast enough to stop the fear already flooding that house.
At the hospital, Terrence sat alone in the waiting area, knees bouncing, eyes red, hands trembling.
For the first time in a long time, nobody was there to clap for him. Nobody was there to tell him he was right.
