On the edge of a cliff the dangling legs of Semiu Porter sway to a medley of her
favorite lofi beat. Her hair locced into a butterfly bun, the tiny clips of pastel colored
flowers embedded into each strand. The cliff, her sanctuary from the prying eyes of
society, laces through her veins a kind of hopelessness she often felt. Her eyes
darted around the scene. New York City shone in all its glory, the Brooklyn Bridge, the
five green parks, the murky water, and its ever moving traffic. The Manhattan skyline
always reminds her how small she is when she revels at the enormity of the vast
buildings.

​

 It's a wonder to Semiu that people ever get any work done in this city. At twenty-
two, Semiu often fought the urge to run away from it all. If she did, she would be like
her father. Then again, if she didn’t, locked herself in a bubble, refusing to live for
herself or anyone else, she would be like her mother.

​

 To run or to stay. To hide or to fight. Especially for this life of dejection she's been
dealt by whichever God, or universe that put her here.

​

 The June sky was her favorite of the months. It’s clarifying blue, a sharp contrast to
the starch white clouds. Her month-old bachelor's degree sits in her bedroom
collecting dust in the same crate as her records. A whole life in front of her. Literally,
millions of lives on the island in front of her. A gnawing ache that tells her that where
she is now is all that she is leaves her ill. Almost comatose.

 

 Perhaps a new city would do the trick. Or a new degree. Her Masters maybe? A
dragged breath pulls her from her thoughts back to the eighty degree weather
beating down on her. Her blue-rimmed glasses caught on the tip of her nose. The
noise might be Semiu's favorite part of the city. It's true that it doesn't end, but it
beats the crickets back in Georgia.

 

 Semiu pulls her phone from her back pocket and glances at the time. Two p.m. on a
Wednesday. Her mother will be home regardless of when she leaves. Being in
between jobs will do that to you. Besides, the cliff needs Semiu. Who else is going to
watch it like this?

​

 When her phone rings, she doesn't look at the ID immediately. She knows who it is
and what he's going to say. Just like she knew he would call at two, right at the end of
his lunch break ,before he needed to dive back into his work. She had been
expecting the call really. She might've been more disappointed had it not come at all.
She takes a deep breath as her hands move to her Airpods. Two taps and an
answered tone later the voice of her dad, Sunny, comes through.

 

 "Hey there, Sun's Shine."

 

 'Sun's Shine' because nicknames were how he got her to stop pouting. He would
always say that when she smiled, it brightened up his world. His voice is smooth but
Semiu picks up the edge underneath.

 

 "Hey Daddy. What's up?"

 

 If her dad had known her better, he might've picked up the clipped beat at the end
of her voice. He might know where she was right now, sitting on a cliff overlooking
Brooklyn Bridge Park. He would also know he didn’t need to bother with this call.

"Hey, so listen, I wanted to talk about our summer getaway."

 

 His voice has dipped just like she knew it would. Placing him somewhere between
anticipation and guilt. Neither a feeling he would allow himself to linger on.

"I got an offer for a job I can't turn down. The money is great, it'll help with expenses
and give us some leeway for the next trip. But the timing is the thing. If I accept the
job, we won't be able to go on our vacation."

 

 "And did you? Accept the job?" Semiu asked. A scowl deepens across her face.So
unoriginal she thought.

 

 "Well I wanted to talk to you about it. I know how excited we were about this trip.
Daddy-daughter time. I will make this up to you, Semi."

 

 There was a smile on the other side of the phone. One that said “I won't let you
down.” Semiu could see her dad standing in his office, hovering over contracts he
could push back. His tie perfect, his shoes spotless, and not a wrinkle on his shirt
anywhere. Her father was a man who liked to be seen as picture perfect. No messes,
no spills, and no peaks behind the curtain. That often meant that she was left out of
the pictures. Children can be messy.

​

 "It's whatever. I gotta go." It was all Semiu could muster. There was no reason to fight
and no real want to either.

 

 "Semi? Are you sure it's okay? I will make this up to you. That's a promise."

 

 Semiu wondered if at this point he even believed himself. He was a man so busy
Semiu expected the soles of his feet might have been made from the dirt he loved to
build on top of.

 

 "Bye, Dad." Semiu huffed as she hung up.

 

 She stared at her phone in her hands. Nails clean and ballet pink. The hickory shade
of brown cutting off at the orange cuff of her sweater. It was seventy five degrees .
The wind blew past her. She wished she was on her way to somewhere else.

 

 By the time she thought about returning home an hour had passed - and with it her
stoicism. Blocks later, her house loomed in front of her, red brown bricks laid
centuries before she was born. She was sure her family had managed to suck out the
very breath it took to build the thing. It was as daunting as it was lifeless.

 

 Quiet or noisy? What kind of evening was in store for Semiu tonight. Her approach to
the door slowed, preparing to inhale whatever ill-timed grief she felt into an exhaled
indifference. She hoped to hear some noise in the house. That would mean that her
mom was up and about and maybe even cheerful. The quiet would mean that her
mom was asleep. Perhaps this time long enough for the alcohol to leave her system.

 

After a jumble of keys, the turning of a lock, and a small push , Semiu unlocked the
door. Her ears perked up for reception. A quiet sigh of relief escaped until a thump
rattled the stairs.

 

 With the beginning strums of a new song and a waft of fish, Semiu knew her mom
was awake. Which meant her mom wasn't hungover, and aware that her father had
stood her up again. She didn’t need much to guess that salmon was the dish of the
evening. In this house, it was often made as a piece offering or a good side with
conversation.

 

 Semiu rolled her eyes and started for the stairs. One parent at a time she thought.
Except this time, she had no script. Her mother was an enigma that she stopped
trying to figure out long ago. She could never be sure which mom she was getting.
Any version was capable of making salmon and exploiting it.

​

 "Is that you, Semi-kins?" Her mom called from the kitchen. "Come on in here. I made
our favorite."

 

 She sounded cheerful. A mistake Semiu had learned not to lean into. Her mom made
undertones a minefield. They were never quite what she thought they were. A bait
and switch.

 

 "Hi Mom. Smells really good." Semiu went for neutral. Don't show the hand. Lead by
following. Semiu draped her bag and sweater over the railing of the staircase and
slinked over to where her mom, Soleil, was pressing down a spatula on a salmon
patty. Her long white dress swayed as she rocked to the medley of the song. The pink
embroidered flowers moved along with it, reminding Semui of the wind at her cliff.

 

 "Come taste and tell me what you think." Soleil beckoned. She traded the spatula for
a fork, and dipped it into one of the patties already neatly on a plate. Semiu paced
her steps as she closed the gap, refocusing on the task at hand. Instead of reaching
for it, Semiu brought her mouth to the fork. Semiu recoiled after the bite.

 

 "You should've known it was hot, child." Soleil stared at her daughter expectantly.
"Well whatcha think? I tried a new seasoning." Soleil turned back to the stove where
the patty crackled crying to be flipped.

 

 "It's good Mommy. What seasoning is that?" Semiu tiptoed around her mother and
headed to the fridge. When she opened it, her face twisted in confusion. “Where’s
my ginger ale?” she thought. Her soda should be sat in the corner of the door, cold
and waiting for her to crack it open. The gaze she could feel from behind her gave
her the realization. She didn't want to engage. It was a trap. And over what? A cold
can she’d been looking forward to all day.

 

 "What are you looking for Semi-kins?" Her mother called over her shoulders. When
Semiu turned around, her mothers face, despite the cheer in her voice, offered her
no compassion. "If you're looking for that ginger-ale, I drank it earlier," Soleil offered
with no apology. Semiu didn't expect one.

 

 "Mom," It came out whinier than she had hoped. "I was going to drink that. I was
saving it so it could get cold." Semiu huffed once at her disappointment and then
again at herself for showing it.

 

 "Oh please Semiu. I bought the soda. I can get you another one."

​

 Her mother turned back to the patty. She hummed under her breath, turning the
stove knob to off and placing the last salmon patty on the plate.

 

 "It really does smell delicious." Semiu eyed the plate her mother lowered on the
table. Behind her, Soleil opened the cupboard. Her fingers reached up to the mugs
after stopping briefly on her wine glasses. She filled her cup with juice and ice before
she finally sat down, letting out a long sigh

 

 "So, your good for nothing dad called me. Did he call you?"

 

 Soleil eyed her daughter with thought. She knew that he did. Semiu lowered her
gaze, knowing what conversation this was.

 

 "He did. We can't go on the trip. I told him it was fine." Semiu bit off a small piece of
salmon and chewed slowly. At times like this she wished that her mother would just
give her a hug.

 

 "I knew he would do this. I called it from the moment his phony tail even brought this
up."

 

 Semiu just sat there in silence. There was no use agreeing or disagreeing. Her mom
would have this tangent one way or another.

 

 “He knew I would have to pick up the pieces. Well I got some places he can shove it."
Her mother continued.

 

 "If your daddy thinks I'm taking you on a trip. He's losing it. Shoot, he's already lost it.
And with what money? I don't work just so he can leave all the responsibility up to
me."

 

 Semiu eyed the salmon patties as her mother droned on in the background. A stack
of eight sat on a pretty white plate adorned with blue swirly lines. It would've gone
great with her ginger ale.

 

 "How does it feel to have a dad like that, Semiu?" Her mother's familiar question
brings her back to the present.

 

 "Mom, please." Semiu whined. She knew who he was. She didn't need to hash this out.

​

 "And the child says ‘Mom please’. Like I'm the one who did it. Like I'm the one who
left you here. You know you're not important to him right? Don't kid yourself. Nothing
will ever come close to it. Not even a beautiful girl like yourself. Trust me on that." Her
mother spewed. Semiu wanted to dissipate in her seat. She was exhausted on this
front and the next.

 

 "I know mom." Semiu muttered. Her aggravation is more apparent this time.

 

 "Don't get smart with me, Semiu. I'm just keeping it real. That's what the world is
going to do anyway. Better me than them.” Semiu reaches for the clips in her hair.
Feeling around each loc, unclipping them and placing them in her lap.

 

 “Your dad. He's just like the rest of them. Self-appreciating men who care nothing
about the way they leave the earth, He's a taker." Semiu just stared blankly ahead.
Any words she said would be misconstrued.

 

 "Why do you even try with that man?" Her mother asked.

 

 Semiu thought this was a funny question, because she tried to cut ties with him
after high school and her mom was the one who insisted she keep that door open.
He gave her money she said was needed for her medicine. Semiu had learned early
that the clanking sound of her moms medicine choice was different from the kind
the doctor ordered.

 

 "I don't know mom. I just humored him, that's all." Semiu raised her glasses to her
forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose.

 

 "So all of this is funny to you?" Her mom asked incredulously.

 

 She needed a reason Semiu thought. She was fishing for a feeling strong enough to
justify opening a bottle. Sunny called, planned the trip, bought tickets, and then
bailed for the sake of work. His version of a perfect vacation was next time. They
knew this was coming. It always did.

 

 "No mom. I didn't say that. I just meant, he does this. He ramps up and bails. If I had
turned down his travel plans he would've made it a big deal. So I humored him."
Semiu explained.

 

 The exhaustion from a day of treading water with her parents was hitting its peak.
Soleil just sighed in response. A good answer, Semiu thought.

​

 Even so, Semiu didn't acknowledge when her mother got up from the table to grab a
glass. She held her breath as her mom kissed her temple on the way to her room.

 

 She sat there for what felt like ages. The six pm light drifted into a sunset orange.
The number eight on the clock watched her as she watched it. Semiu was tired. She
had to work in the morning, the mortgage wasn't going to pay itself.

 

 On her way up the stairs, she grabbed her bag and sweater. A phone call echoed
from her mom's room. The caller, undoubtedly, a male friend who she'd spend hours
telling all her hopes and dreams to. She trudged past her mom’s room to hers. Her
sad eyes reflected back to her in the mirror stopped her in her tracks.

 

 Her glasses propped up on her forehead where lines were beginning to indent. Her
exhausted eyes reminded her of a statue. Only dilating at the plate of three salmon
patties that she planned to eat before bed. The suitcase in the corner of her room,
packed and ready to go, almost made her choke up. It was two days before the trip.
They were so close this time. She hadn't believed him this time. She swore she
wouldn't. But hope has always been Semiu’s weakness. Especially when it came to
her parents. She wanted to kick the luggage with all of her anger, but that would give
her mom a reason to cross the hall with her drunken slurs.

 

 Turning back to the mirror, Semiu wondered if her exhaustion is what made her so
timid. She recalled the ways her mother had blown up at the mention of her nightly
glass of wine. She remembered the flustered tone of her dads voice when she
questioned why he could never follow through on his word. These thoughts followed
her into the shower and as she climbed into bed. They replayed amidst a
background of white noise.

 

 In the distance, her mother's voice ramped with liquid courage. The cliff called her
back to finish her exhale. It wasn't until she brought the salmon patty to her lips that
she snapped herself out of it. She sighed into a bite, these incorrigible things
wouldn’t spoil her dinner.

 

***

 

 Semiu's hands shook with nerves. Her mind was made up, but doubt is a fickle,
lingering thing. Coming home to face her mom was always part of the plan. It had
been five years. Her mothers brownstone still loomed over her like a tower she used
to feel trapped in.

​

 That same question festered beneath her skin. She had learned from Dr. Kilmartin
that her silent questions were a way of anticipating and placating disappointment.
Quiet or Noisy? She didn't have an answer this time.

 

 Although she had a key, Semiu knocked on the door. She could tell her mother was
home by the shuffling feet coming closer. Along with clear thumps of someone
coming down the steps. When her dad stood in the open door, his face was amused
at her confused look.

 

 "Sun's Shine. Why did you knock? Did you lose your key?" His voice was pleasant,
high pitched, too excited, Semiu thought.

 

 He embraced her with a half-baked hug. They both went right, his hand patting her
back like he was giving her a good job. A handshake would've been better. When he
finally stepped aside to let her in, Soliel stood in the living room. Her bright yellow
polka dot dress swayed in contrast to the cool gray furniture behind her. Her hair was
in pin curls, a detail that Semiu usually wouldn't notice. But the way she stood there,
dolled up with her palms pressed together, nearly teary-eyed, made Semiu squirm.
When she looked back at her dad, his hair was in a low fade, his mustache groomed
into one line, and his brown suit pressed and crisp. He seemed so familiar to her,
though when she looked down, on his feet were sneakers instead of dress shoes.

 

 "Hey Mommy." Semiu made her way further into the house.

 

 Her handbag stayed glued to her elbow. She looked between her parents. Her brown
skin, a culmination of theirs. Her chin, pointed like her dad's, cheeks, full like her
moms. She could see exactly how she had been assembled, which parts she had
inherited from them both.

 

 "Hi Semi-kins. Oh, I have missed you so much." Her mother rushed her for a hug.

 

 "Hey, don't smother the girl.” Her dad popped his head over her moms shoulder. “I
want to hear everything. How was Brazil? England? Where is that last place you
went?"

 

 "Brazil and England were just small trips. They were really fun." Semiu detached from
her mom and sat on the couch. "The last place I went was Texas. My team exhibited
our product at the expo."

 

 "I have no idea what that means, but it sounds fun." Her mother chimed in.

​

 Soleil and Sunny sat across from Semiu. They looked at her with such adoration. It
reminded her of graduation which was the last time she saw her dad. She always
looked forward to days that were just about her. Except it wasn't actually about them
celebrating her or her accomplishments. Soleil handed Semiu a copy of her now
expected portion of the rent by her mom. Her dad rubbed his chin, nodding a “that's
fair” into the moment. No one brought flowers, no one took her to dinner, or asked
about her future. They just reminded her that they felt she owed them something.

 

 "Which expo? For trucking or equipment? There's a new expo for equipment coming
to Georgia. You'll see me there." Sunny replied. Semiu eyed her dad for a moment.
She almost laughed.

 

 "I won't be seeing you there." She replied curtly. He had tried to get her on the phone
many times over the years. Praising her new post, inviting her to outings she refused
repeatedly. He would try to fit as many words into the minute timer she had left on
her voicemail once he saw her doing those things without him.

 

 His face faltered a bit at her tone. Yet a glance towards her mother told her this
wasn't a "we're so proud of you moment". No, neither of her parents had heard from
her in some time. This awkward approach was a match to see who she'd relent to
first. If she had to bet, her mother called her dad to gloat. He showed up to scope
out the scene.

 

 "Well I'm sure you're hungry, sweetpea. I made your favorite of course. I can make it
again later this week if you want." Soleil fished.

 

 Though there were no signs of her mother having a drink, Semiu wondered if she was
coming down from a weekend bender. Soleil looked tired and worn down.

 

 "That's okay. I'm not that hungry, and I'm not staying. I just came to get my things."
Semiu admitted. This felt fresh and harsh. She hadn't anticipated her dad being here,
but it was all the same considering that she had come by to put this house and
these people behind her.

 

 The hurt look on her mother’s face was almost enough to send her out the door for
another ten years. But Semiu had grown past being weary of the life she left behind.
She had grown quite fed up. The quiet days. The noisy nights. She spent the last five
years away from this house, and it wasn't enough.

​

 It was that night spent out in a lounge with some work friends that Semiu finally
looked this issue in the eye. Her mother spent an entire call crying about how
betrayed she felt, and asking Semiu to come home. Begging. Pleading. Semiu almost
did it until her mother drunkenly admitted a thought that had plagued Semiu for so
many nights.

 

 "If I never had you, I would be so much more than this. You ruined my life, Semi-kins.
Do you get that? You and that irksome man you call dad. You ruined my life. And then
you left."

 

 It stung underneath that September sky. Semiu never thought her mom would say it
out loud. She had always felt it though. So when her mother finally uttered the words
Semiu knew to be true it left her dwelling in the pit of her stomach. Enough to drink
down the same bane her mother clinged to. Instead she walked back home, opened
up to her roommate about what happened, and let out all her frustrations to her
roommate, Vivienne, who was familiar with growing pains in New York City.

 

 "Nonsense Semiu, we just got you back." Her mother brushed her off. Semiu almost
lowered her gaze. Instead she held to her convictions and stuck out her chin.

"No nonsense here. I won't be staying, mom." Semiu replied dryly. "What did you do
with my things?" Semiu asked.

 

 She knew the answer. Most of it was trashed. If there was anything left, it was an old
doll she hated or a shirt that no longer fit. Besides, Semiu hadn't come for her things.
Not really. She came to look her mother in the eye and say goodbye.

 

 That night she left five years ago wasn’t anything spectacular. Soleil, loose lipped on
the phone, droned on about absentee men and dreams she wouldn’t ever reach for.
Semiu’s coworker needed someone to help with the rent and she accepted. It was a
simple decision. Yet Semiu hadn’t told her mom. Instead she waited until she was
drunk, taking only what she could carry, and left while heavy rain poured around her.
She was moving back to the city soon. She didn't want the weight of this old house
to sit perched on her chest any longer.

 

 "Well, I gave a lot of things to the salvation army after you vacated. You bought your
things from there often so I figured you wouldn’t mind. You really came all this way to
collect some dirty old boxes?"

​

 Her mother’s tone lacked the warmth it had previously carried just minutes ago.
That's when Semiu heard it. The slight drawl at the word dirty, hidden with great
talent, revealed subtly.

 

 "My things. Yes, I came to get them."

 

 From his seat, Sunny sat motionless watching the two of them. Sunny knew he was
missing some information. Soleil had probably convinced him that her daughter
called regularly. Semiu didn't care to correct it. Clarifying that him not being in her life
was one mistake, the other was leaving with a mother who was barely there herself.

 

 "Well I don't have them. You can get new things. You already took the things that
were important to you." Soleil muttered.

 

 "And you weren't one of them. I realize how difficult that must be for you."

 

 Semiu sat quite relaxed on that couch. Her heartbeat steadily rose because, truth
be told, she didn't want to do this. She needed to, though.

 

 "Semiu Porter, you watch how you speak to your mother." Sunny chimed in an
attempt to be stern. His voice rigid, with hints of confusion. His eyes widened at the
resolved woman in front of him. He had never seen her this cold. Then again, he
hadn’t seen much of her at all.

 

 "Why is he even here?" Semiu asked her mom, ignoring the man looking at her with
an agape mouth.

 

 "I came to see you." Sunny started.

 

 He wasn’t finding a ledge for his voice in this house he'd been in no more than ten
times over the years.

 

 "If you don't have my things then why did you say you did?" Semiu asked. She eyed
her mother, not letting up on her gaze.

 

 "Is it a crime to want to see my daughter? It's been five years. I don't even know
where you're living these days." Soleil dusted off her lap.

 

 "Well yes. That was the point." Semiu shot back, offering no compassion.

​

 "Is that right?" her mother chewed the inside of her cheek. "I did my best, you know.
Raising you all by myself. I did it all." Soleil dropped her tone at “by myself”.

 

 There were no tears, just a shrill voice that would've once sent Semiu into caretaking
mode.

 

 "I did it all for you. Wait until you have kids, you'll see what it's like. To have to adjust
the way I did."

 

 "You mean drink the way you did?" Semiu quizzed.

 

 Soleil wouldn’t bear these accusations. She got up and went into the kitchen. She
wouldn't be judged in her own home. Not by her daughter or anyone. She deserved a
drink, she thought as she opened the cupboards. Semiu pondered over her mothers
claim and inability to do anything without a drink. Her need to reroute blame, even
now, five years later, on her circumstance rather than personhood. Dr. Kilmartin
would tell her to approach her mother with empathy. She would say that her anger
was valid but it’s in how she expressed that anger that would leave the impact.

 

 "Semiu. Lighten up, please. Your mom has gone through a lot and I can admit I wasn't
here like she was."

 

 Sunny tried again to join the conversation, to get his little girl back. Semiu didn’t
spare him a glance.

 

 When her mother returned she held a box of tupperware filled with salmon patties
and rice. She handed them to Semiu— a peace offering.

 

 Semiu took it in her hands. She could relent, they smelled divine even through the
closed lid, but Semiu didn’t want peace as much as she wanted an
acknowledgement. And since she knew she wouldn’t get that, she placed the box on
the table.

 

 Semiu glanced around her living room. Her pictures still hung on the wall cascading
up the stairs. Marks left on the walls from bottles thrown sent a shiver down her
spine. She wondered if the bars were still on the windows in her bedroom. Soleil and
Sunny waited on her response, eyes round and expecting.

 

 "Are you sure you donated all of my things?" Semiu sighed.

​

 "There's a small bag with old sweaters in the front closet." Her mother replied.

 

 Semiu made for the closet. She found the bag hanging by the brown wool coat her
mother used to wear when Semiu was in elementary school. Inside it, her orange
sweater with the crinkle cuffs peaked out from beneath the other sweaters.

"Semiu, stay for dinner. I'm making spaghetti." Her mother tried again.

 

 "I can't. I have plans in Soho." Semiu said.

 

 She had moved on from this house and the people in it. For these last five years, it
had hurt her to know she had to leave in order to live.

 

 Soleil, with a bottle of Merlot in her hand, looked devastated. At times Semiu
wondered if her mother remembered those unkind words uttered that night in
September. The woman with sad eyes in front of her wasn't the same one who threw
those verbal jabs. This woman had known her daughter wasn't coming to stay, that
she was coming to say goodbye.

 

 In her periphery, she could see her dad looking uncomfortable, shifting between
whether to interject or stay quiet. It was hard for him to fit into this family dynamic.
He had never been around long enough to figure it out.

 

 Semiu sighed. The mirror on the door caught her gaze. She didn't look exhausted this
time. She appeared well rested and ready to let go of lingering guilt, tense phone
calls, and expired hope. Her cream, square-rimmed glasses had a slightly brown tint
to them. Her hair was still locced and very long. She thought the half-up-half-down
style she sported suited her. The gold yarn stands weaved throughout her locs
brought out the richness of her skin.

 

 The air around her began to stifle a bit. She clutched the bag of sweaters to her
chest to sort through later. That orange cuff, a reminder of why she spent six months
in the Philippines learning how to breathe, rested on the edge of the bag. It was time
to go, she thought.

 

 She dawdled at the knob of the door before turning around and giving her mother a
hug. Semiu kissed the top of her mother's head, taking in the heartbreaking whiff of
cocoa butter and pinot grigio.

​

 Semiu said her goodbyes. Quick and succinct before any tears could well up. She
wouldn't be back here. One look at her mom and Semiu knew that she knew it too.

 

 "Hey, Sun’s Shine. Maybe we can try dinner?” He held out a fist. She almost giggled at
how unnerved she made him. Still better than a hug she thought.

 

 Semiu walked out of the house made of dark burgundy brown bricks.

 

 "Semiu," Her mother called behind her. "At least take lunch." Her mother handed her a
box of salmon patties. They smelled good. When she took them her mom placed a
hand on top of hers and squeezed. Semiu squeezed back before letting go and
walking to the car. Vivienne sat in the front seat playing Doechii, her french curls an
ombre of bleach blonde and sandy brown. She exhaled relief.

 

 "All good?" Vivienne asked. She meant the question. Semiu could always talk to her.
As Vivienne drove away Semiu refused to look back. How could she explain that she
would miss this house and hated being in it at the same time?

 

 As they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, she wondered if she would ever choose to see
her parents again. The breeze at her cliff sitting there on this sunny day, waiting for
someone else to exhale there. Maybe someone had.

 

 Semiu thought about how growing up in the big city felt so unsteady, like she was
born where a rock met a hard place. She thought about Soleil and Sunny, who were
no longer her emergency contacts. No longer able to contact her, their numbers
muted and accounts blocked. She thought about how that might upset them. It
made her sad to leave them in that stifling house. When the box of salmon patties
shifted in her lap, she cracked a smile and nudged away the thoughts that she
promised would no longer have the power to keep her up at night.

 

 "Those smell good." Vivienne perked up at the scent coming from the tupperware
Semiu opened .

 

 "They really do." Semiu responded. She fed half a piece to Vivienne. This would be a
parting gift then, she decided, bringing the patty to her lips. Inevitable as it was, she
was willing to spoil a gift on that incurable lasting heartache.

​

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