Needy Little Things(5)
“Not much at all,” Jude answers. “But there might have been if Ms. Jess had removed the nail file.”
Malcolm jumps to his feet in shock. “You mean dude was just laid out with it sticking out of him?” He cuts his eyes at me as he slowly sits back down and takes out his phone. “Jude, AirDrop me your contact info because you clearly know how to tell a story better than this girl.”
He does and Malcolm starts up a shiny new group chat for the four of us.
“Do they think the guy is going to wake up?” Deja asks.
“My mom’s a physician’s assistant at the hospital,” Jude says. “They don’t think it’ll be long until he’s coherent enough for questioning.”
“Wild he’s alive at all.” Malcolm takes complete ownership over Jude’s chips. “Nail file to the neck is pretty damn gruesome.”
“I’m surprised it did the damage it did. The thing was cheap,” I say. “Like ninety-nine cents from Walmart.”
“Ms. Jess must have really put some oomph—Wait, how do you know that?” He slaps the table when he realizes. “Don’t tell me…”
“I gave it to her right before she left.”
Jude uses his hand to hide his face from Malcolm as he speaks to me. “Does he know about … you know?”
Malcolm cackles. “I’m sorry, was that your attempt at whispering?”
“Colmy, I know your loud mouth ain’t judging nobody’s ability to whisper.” I turn to Jude. “But to answer your question, Malcolm’s my best friend. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known the meaning of discretion. He knows everything.”
“Lucky guy.” Jude’s eyes drift over to Deja. “And…”
“And I happily mind my own business,” she says, staring down at her phone.
Malcolm cackles again. “Oh, we lying today? That’s what we doing?”
“You know what I mean. I’m not into all that stuff. Creeps me out,” Deja says. “No offense to you and your charity bag, Sariyah.”
“None taken, but while we’re on the topic…” I toss her a pocket-sized notebook and enjoy the heavy silence in my head as soon as she picks it up.
“Anyway,” Malcolm drawls. “Ri, if you gave Ms. Jess that nail file, that means you saved her life.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Jude says.
“Saved her life is pushing it. I wasn’t even out there. The man might have just been trying to rob her.”
“Just?” Jude kicks one leg over the bench so he’s straddling it and waits for me to look at him. “Sariyah, you keep conveniently forgetting the guy had a gun on him.”
“Because he didn’t have it out.”
“Didn’t have it out yet. Ms. Jess said he was reaching for it.”
Malcolm clears his throat obnoxiously at that. “Women like her always swear somebody is reaching for something, stealing something, going someplace they shouldn’t.”
“Not going to argue with that,” Jude says. “But the man looks like he could be her husband. Middle-aged white guy. The kind you’d expect her to give the benefit of the doubt. The fact that she didn’t proves she must have felt legitimately threatened.” He turns back to me. “You should be proud you made it so she could protect herself, Sariyah.”
“I hate that I’m connected to it at all. It’s like I stuck my nose in something I had no business being involved with.”
“Well, that’s exactly what you did,” Malcolm says. “But that’s what you do. You get in people’s business in a way no one else can. And you doing you saved that woman’s life.”
I nod, but all he’s done is further expose the thing that’s hanging me up. Yes, I gave Ms. Jess the nail file, and sure, I can play along with the idea that it prevented something bad from happening to her. But what if I hadn’t given it to her? What if I’d come in a little later, after she’d already gone? I can’t stop thinking about all the needs I miss fulfilling every single day. Needs I can’t trace back to the right person, items I don’t have available to give. What if those people need those things as much as Ms. Jess needed that nail file? I’m so glad Mama let me stay home from school today because what I wanted, what I needed most, was to avoid people for a few hours. If I don’t hear them, I can’t feel guilty for not providing.
“Seriously, though,” Malcolm says. “That ability has done you, and a bunch of others, a whole lot of good.”
“Me? What good has it done me?”
He jerks his head back. “I know you don’t think you got promoted to senior scooper in your first week at Sweet Pea’s all on your own merit. Comes in handy knowing what flavors customers need.”
“Need?” Jude glances around at the three of us, waiting for someone to join him in laughter. “Wait, are y’all serious? My parents drilled a pretty hard line between wants and needs when I was a kid. Dessert was solidly in the want category.”
“You’re thinking about it too literally. Does ice cream bring you joy?” I rest my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm.
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t think joy is needed for good mental health?”