All That Matters

04 | Dylan's Mom

"Mila! Come on, girl, open up the door! It's hot out here!"

Her little brother's voice only added to the jarred feeling lurking around her body all day. She was weirded out and suspicious that she'd seen members of her distant family for the first time in a while.

"I'm sweating!" He complained, fanning his face with his hand and attitude.

"Wes, what is going on?" Mila raised her voice so he could hear her on the other side. "If she's with you, I'm not opening the door."

"What?" Mila heard him smack his teeth from the other side. There was no amount of time that could pass that would make her believe that an eye roll didn't accompany it. "That lady is on somebody's plane right now. Let me i-"

Mila silently and slowly opened up and locked eyes with her baby brother. Her mind nearly went blank as she let Weston inside, then pulled him into her embrace warmer than Georgia's nighttime humidity.

"I've missed you so much, Wes. It feels so good to hug you right now." Mila smiled into his shoulder as she squeezed him. She pulled back to get a good look at his face, not surprised by its dewy look illuminated by the warm glow of her living room's lamps. Wes had a whole skincare routine by the time he was thirteen years old.

"I've missed you too, sister." Wes showcased a smile that was no longer racked with braces. "Where is my niece? I haven't seen her in entirely too long. I swear there's a special place in hell for Mama for how she made all of this play out."

"She's spending the night at Yas' house." Mila put her hands on his arms, feeling the muscle he'd acquired there. "And you're right. There is." She sighed as she pulled her arms back to her body, comforting herself with them.

"I saw her this morning, Wes. She came to my job and scared me half to death. And now you? I'm so happy to see you, but I just don't understand what's happening."

Mila went to sit in one of the tall chairs behind her countertop and expected Wes to follow, but he'd detoured to her kitchen instead. After he'd washed his hands and dried them, he helped himself to the contents of her refrigerator.

"Where's the liquor, Mila? I need something sparkling or bubbling. I thought all moms kept a bottle of wine in their ice box?" He looked back at her, hints of distaste on his face.

"Boy, I don't have anything in there, and I definitely wouldn't give any to you. You're only eighteen. Now, come sit and talk to me."

"My name is spelled W-E-S-T-O-N, not D-Y-L-A-N." His snarky reply made her roll her eyes as his feet carried him to the chair beside her. "And I'm legal! Been legal since day two of year seventeen."

Mila's face remained fixed on getting an answer despite his attempted redirections. Wes sighed, the solid gold of his jewelry colliding with the countertop as he meshed his hands on top of it.

"You saw Mama today because she saw me looking at a picture of you on the bakery's Instagram. I thought she'd forgotten about it since it was a while ago; way before I got into Morehouse and decided to go there." Wes didn't mention the lecture their mother gave him afterward, aiming to convince him that Mila was a failure, a disgrace to the family, and that he shouldn't want to be associated with her anymore.

A smile fought its way through as Mila listened to him and realized. He'd gotten into his dream school. "Congratulations! Did you make it on the team, too?"

"I did." Wes smiled while nodding his head. "They were out here helping me move into my dorm, and I guess before she got back on the plane, she had to do research with her annoying ass. God, I'm so glad I made it out of there."