“Something like that,” I say. That’s the easiest way to explain it.
“So he was an addict?”
“No.”
“A pusher?”
“Jesus, Tonya, how many times are we gonna do this?” I say, getting a little testy myself. “Does it even matter at this point?”
“Yes, it does,” she insists, with such passion that it takes me by surprise. “Don’t you get it? You had a man that wanted to stick around, wanted to provide for you and protect you. You say he’s dangerous—well, fuck, all the better to protect you, don’t you think?”
When she puts it like that, it all sounds so straightforward.
“He’s only one man,” I say softly. “At the end of the day, no matter how powerful, he’s only one man.”
Tonya shakes her head in disgust. “You really are a fucking princess.”
That pisses me off. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” she snaps back.
“Yeah, just like I know you would have kept your baby if your man hadn’t turned his back on you,” I shoot back at her.
I regret my words immediately. It was a cheap shot, a low bow, spoken in anger.
She winces, confirming the truth of my assessment, but I still feel like the worst person alive. It’s the lack of sleep and the fear and the fact that maybe Tonya knows more about me than I know about myself right now.
It’s all getting to me.
“Sorry,” I mumble immediately. “That was—”
“Fair,” Tonya mutters. “I hit you, so you hit back. Maybe you’re not such a Pollyanna after all.”
I smile. “High praise, coming from you.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I laugh and after a minute, Tonya starts to laugh, too. The tension dissipates immediately. Tonya’s hunched shoulders relax.
We fade into a soft silence. Tonya is still scraping with her spoon at her empty bowl as though she can refill it with just the force of her imagination.
“Here,” I say, handing her my last piece of bread. “I’m full.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I’m serious,” I insist. “I’ve had my fill. Just take it.”
“I don’t take charity.”
“Tonya, you live in a fucking shelter,” I point out.
The woman glares at me for a moment like a feral animal.
And then laughter snorts out through her nose.
“Jesus, bitch has claws!” she says admiringly. But she takes the piece of bread I’m holding out to her.
She chews and contemplates for a while. I keep Phoenix close to me. He’s finally fallen asleep, thank the Lord.