𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞, Jalen Green

ii. dinner with the devil

August 25th, 2019

THE SUN BEGAN TO DIP DOWN when Aira and her mother, alongside Fatima and Joshua, finally finished unpacking. The initial welcome became ten minutes of chatter among the mothers, which then lead to the four of them unhauling the truck. But with both mothers pushing fifty, most of the heavy work was given to the two teens.

The house that was once empty, was now filled with boxes that were meant to be unpacked. Aira huffed in annoyance; at least tomorrow her father and sister would be there to unpack and furnish the rooms... or they could always live like those minimalists. But Aira knew her mother loved her knick-knacks too much to try minimalism.

"Thank you for the help," Aira's mother spoke as the four of them stood by the entrance door of the house. "If you two hadn't help, Aira and I probably wouldn't have gotten much sleep."

"Oh, no problem. We're neighbours, after all," Fatima gives her signature smile. Aira liked his mother's smile. It was radiant; beautiful. It could make the darkest cave shine.

Promptly, Aiden walks out to the porch where the four of them stood. Angel followed after, her tiny hands clinging onto her brother's hand. "Ma, Angel says she's hungry," he tells.

While that would be an easy problem to fix, the Inocencios had no food in the house just yet; hell, they hadn't even unpacked most of their things. "Oh, okay. We can order food from Wendy's or something," her mother nodded.

"You could join us for dinner if you'd like," Fatima offered.

"Uh, are you okay with that? I don't want to hassle you or anything. Four extra mouths to feed is kind of a big deal. Plus, you've already helped us enough today," her mother said, not wanting to ask too much from the family next door.

"Please, I don't mind at all. It'd be good company, too," she smiled. "How do chicken fajitas and mac and cheese sound?"

"Those sound great! You two can start walking while I lock the doors," her mother instructed the two teens. Aira and Joshua nod before crossing the street.

There's an awkward silence between the two of them as they approach the house across the street. Aira wasn't much of a talker when faced with someone she didn't know well.

"You ball or something?" he asks in an attempt to make small talk with her. He fiddles in his pockets, searching for the spare key his mom gave him to open the door.

"No. Why do you ask?" Aira answers.

"I saw a couple of jerseys and posters and assumed it was yours 'cause it was near a pile of your stuff while we were unloading," he reveals as he opens the door to reveal the spacious house he and his mother lived in.

The first thing you saw when you stepped into the Markelle household was a large portrait of the family. His mother, who was younger in the picture, held a tiny Joshua in her arms. The man next to her held a girl, who looked no older than five at the time. She notices now much Joshua looked like his father. Same eye shape, same nose.

"Oh, yeah. I don't play at all. I'm awful," she says, her eyes scanning the pictures that surrounded the portrait. There were ones of them in Hawaii, photos of each child and their accomplishments. Surprisingly, the one photo Aira's eyes managed to miss was the one of Jalen and Joshua, next to each other after winning the state championship last year.

"So you watch?"

"Not anymore," she continues the conversation dryly.

"Then why do you have so much basketball shit if you ain't even watch it?" he asked.