Lela slept like an ostrich last night only getting thirty-minute naps at a time. As soon as Mr. Obasi paid the four hundred and fourth-one dollar check the word failure slithered across her mind. Gretchen didn't utter any salutations while she gave Lela a loose then told her she could visit her Nana at noon. She doesn't want to touch you because you're a failure, her inner voice turned rude. She practiced her breathing exercises—inhaling in deeply, hold it in for three seconds then exhale.

Her psyche wagged war against her as she gaited to her room trying to remain calm but when she slammed her door her reserve cracked. Her mind replayed every word Gretchen and Mr. Obasi spoke as it added it's own commentary.

'I hope you're not doing too much taste testing'. You know what that means, her mind started as she unzipped her dress. Lela knew what the meant. It was Gretchen speak for you're heavier than the BMI suggested you to be. Lela stood in front of the floor length mirror gawking at her body. Your hips are too round. Your thighs are too wide. What the hell is that? A stomach or a flotation device. You know what you are. Lela held her stomach that had a slight pudge waiting for her mind as she bit down on her bottom lip. You're a fat failure that shouldn't be here. She sulked away from the mirror as a tear slipped from her eye.

"I need to take my pill." She muttered to herself as she wiped the tear off her cheek with the back of her hand.

Lela dug her pill bottle out her duffle back and popped the emergency dosage Sylvan suggested her to take if things go off the rails. As she swallowed the pill, Lela knew things were definitely off the tracks.

"Everything's going to be just fine." She told herself as she checked the door. It was locked. "I can do this." She added as she moved over to the window—it was locked too. "All I have to do is go to sleep and it'll be better in the morning." She dropped her body on the bed.

Lela nestled her head against the puffy pillow and pulled the covers up. Just as she closed her eyes her psyche whispered, "Gretchen said you went to boarding school because you're a failure and an embarrassment. You do your family a favor and remove yourself from existence." It was the thought that pestered her. Haunted her. It woke her from her nudged her from her sleep and trapped her in her head. After seven failed attempts to go back to sleep, she slipped into some yoga pants and a t-shirt. The hotel gym was a desert when she hopped on the treadmill. Lela stuck her earbuds in her ears and blasted the music as she ran for her life. Fifty minutes later and drenching in sweat she drug her feet back to her room and collapsed onto the bed.

*****

A hot shower, tea, and an egg white omelet later; Lela was back in the town car. The drive to her grandmother's house was one she didn't really need. She could have walked to her Nana's as she did many times before. The dark stone row house had been in the family since the Great Migration of 1940.

Lela felt twelve again as she stepped into the house that hadn't changed. Nutmeg and patchouli greeted her at the door. A wrought iron staircase took up some of the space in front of the door while marble floors held the other half. Lela knew the floors led to the TV-less room that had a piano, which was handed down the family for many generations. No one knew how a freed slave got such an instrument but every member in the family learned how to play Amazing Grace on it.

"She's not feeling very this morning." A youthful faced woman with salt and pepper hair told with her hands firmly planted in her pockets. Lela knew for the woman's teal scrub that she was the nurse.

Lela moved to the stairwell, "I can't stay long. I just want to say hi." Gretchen sitting the time at noon only gave Lela an hour to see her Nana since her flight was leaving at three. "See her while I'm here."

"Sure." The woman nodded. "Just go on up."

"Thanks." Lela offered before climbing the stairs she used to run up and down for sport.

The last room on the hallway was the smallest room in the house but that wasn't a problem for Margaret Johnson. It was the view she wanted, a balcony that over looked Lake Michigan.

Lela fought back her emotions as she stood in the doorway watching the elderly woman with a silver plait over her shoulder tucked cozily in grandiose bed. The TV was but a whisper as a gentle breeze blew in through the patio. The sun washed over her Nana's wrinkled face enhancing the few sparkles in her golden skin.

"This ain't a wake." Nana somberly spoke. "I'm not dead, yet." Her saggy eyebrows scrolled open her lips lifted.

Lela advance to the bed, "Don't talk like that."

"Talk like what?"

"About dying."

"But I am." Nana's smile fade. "Dying."

Lela sniffed as she plopped on the edge of the bed.

"My sweet Lee Lee..." Nana cooed as she patted Lela's knee. "I'm eighty-three." She smiled with a sense of accomplishment. "It's life. We live and we die. Plus, these kidneys aren't going to last much longer."

Lela dropped her face in the palms of her hands, "Why didn't you tell me." She pulled her hands from her face. "You...you never once put it in your letters that you were sick."

"I don't need you worrying about me, Child." Nana's patting stilled. "You have enough on your plate."

"You are on my plate." Lela didn't bother with the tears rolling down her face. "If it wasn't for you..."

"You'd still survive." Nana waved for her to come closer. Lela kicked off her sneaker and climb into the bed. "You know why...because you're like me. We're fighters. We may get dealt and a bad hand but we make it work."

Lela sat her head on her Nana's stomach, "I'm going to miss you." She murmured as her grandmother stroked her head.

"Whenever you need me or miss my words...just read one of my letters and I'll be there." Nana combed a hand liver spot hand through Lela's braids. "I wish you would've brought the boy of yours."

Lela sniffed as she shut her eyes close, "I do too but—"

"You don't want Gretchen to meet him." Nana patted her back. "I know."

It seems that Lela had at least one family member she could count on.

Why do you think Lela doesn't want Gretchen to meet Trevor?

* The Great Migration is a time in 1910 to 1970 when African Americans left the South for the other regions.