I know I could have just called you or sent you an email, but I wanted to take my time to tell you how I feel. People don’t seem to do that anymore. And I never want you to have to wonder about my feelings for you.
I’m so glad you decided to give me a chance. I know that you have a lot going on with your situation, and you can’t just leave. But know that I’m always here for you. You are first in my heart, and in my bed..
The feeling left Naima’s body and the only sensations left were the nausea in her stomach and the pounding in her chest. She didn’t read anymore.
Instead, she glanced at the familiar name of Tasha’s secretary at the bottom of the letter and carefully put the letter back in its place. She left the necklace in its case, as well, and left for her mother’s praying that she could forget what she just read.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze. Her mother was her usual difficult self who took every opportunity to criticize her hair, her clothes, where she leaved, and even the fact that she had a “wife” instead of a husband.
And Naima was her usual self, silently taking it as she tried to help her mother put her life together.
By the time she left, Naima had a list of senior living communities that had space for her mother, but still no secure place for her to go. Her watch told her that if she left then, she could at least make it to the interview, even if her grant proposal was incomplete.
There goes my funding, Naima thought. She knew she was only admitting what she already knew was going to happen anyway. She screwed up again.
Forty minutes later, Naima approached the front desk at Branview Philanthropy moments before her scheduled meeting. She was so flustered from her morning that she barely noticed the receptionist.
“Good afternoon. My name is Naima Johnson and I have a 2:30 appointment with the Education Alternatives Funding Project.”
When she finally looked up, she saw that it was Allison on the other side of the desk.