Where did they get this? I don't know you. You never posted Arthur's address. No. Naomi's jaw tightened. Nia reached across the table and took the phone back.
I need evidence, not a scene. You think I'm going to make a scene? I think you love me. That's silenced Naomi. Nia continued more softly.
And I think sometimes loving somebody makes you want to solve things before they ask you to. Naomi looked down at her coffee. The steam had disappeared. You should have told me. I wanted to handle something on my own.
You don't have to prove that to me. I'm not proving it to you. Nia paused. I'm proving it to myself. Naomi understood that.
Perhaps too well. For years, people had looked at Naomi and seen whatever was easiest for them. A black woman in a uniform. Then a black woman without one. A tired EMT.
A tenant with irregular paychecks. A woman standing in an apartment office while a manager explained that her application had suddenly become complicated. Naomi had once served people who never knew what training stood behind the calm voice beside their hospital bed. Then civilian life had taught her how quickly credentials could disappear when they were not visible on your clothes. She had fought to keep an apartment after a landlord began treating her irregular emergency shifts as evidence of instability.
She had documented everything, filed complaints, made calls, waited. In the end, leaving had cost less than continuing to prove she deserved to stay. Nia had helped carry the boxes down three flights of stairs. Neither sister had forgotten. Nia looked at the dark brews around her wrist.
There are people waiting for me to get angry. Naomi said nothing. They want the angry version because then everything becomes easier. For them, yes. Nia's voice lowered.
If I lose control, they get to make me the problem. The words hung between them. Naomi looked at her sister for a long time. Then she nodded once. Not agreement with what had happened.
Agreement with Nia's right to decide how she answered it. Okay. Nia blinked. Okay. I won't storm Wellington.
Thank you. Tonight. Nia almost smiled. Naomi, I'm joking. You're terrible at it.
I haven't slept. That excuse is becoming your entire personality. For a moment, the pressure broke. Only a little. Then Naomi noticed a new notification on Nia's phone.
Trevor Hale. The name lit the screen. Naomi's expression hardened. Open it. Nia hesitated.
Then did. The message was short. My family paid for half that building. Nobody there is choosing you over me. The diner seemed to become quieter.
Naomi read it twice. So that's what this is. What? He doesn't think he's untouchable because he's popular. Nia looked toward the rain.
He thinks he's untouchable because somebody taught him he is. Naomi leaned back. Eyes narrowed. Who's his family? I don't know yet.
Find out before you do anything else. Nia glanced at her. You're giving me instructions now? Suggestions. That sounded like an order.
Occupational damage. Nia studied her sister. Naomi had said that phrase before. Occupational damage. Usually when she noticed exits first.