"I'm a bad mother."

Nita collapsed on the mountain of mint green pillows covering the white sofa in her great room. Her laptop bag fell at her feet, scuffing the tip of her well worn pumps. Her keys skid across the hardwood floor leaving a host of marks in their wake. Her cell tumbled towards the French doors leading to the formal dining room and she silently prayed no damage was done to the outdated device. The smell of pressed garlic filled the air and she knew where there was her brother's Spaghetti Bolognese, wine of the white or red variety flowed in abundance. Her stomach growled, her mouth watered, and her body begged for a moment of rest.

"You suck as a sister," Her brother Ellis appeared from kitchen, his tee stained with sauce and his jeans equally destroyed, "And your children are heathens too," He dabbed at his soiled clothes attempting to remove the damage done by the eight and thirteen year olds he had sentenced to solitary confinement in their respective rooms. He was her saving grace. An accountant who worked from the home willed to both of them after their parents' deaths. He picked the kids up from school, hauled them to dance lessons, athletic practices, and tutoring sessions. He was also maid, chef, and therapist all rolled into one.

Brother and sister shared a brief smile.  Ellis took the spot to her left, squeezing into the minimal space and guiding her head to his shoulder, "Thank you." He didn't budge with the sentiment she offered, "I don't know what I would do without you." Truer phrase had never been spoken but he knew, now was not the time to gloat.

Ellis Perkins thrived in his role of older, wiser, sibling. When their parents passed within months of one another during Nita's junior of college, Ellis filled the shoes of guardian. He supported his younger sister emotionally and financially. He watched over her, making sure she kept her grades up, and attended regular grief counseling sessions. He gave her away at both of her weddings, played loving uncle to his misfit niece and nephew, and offered unsolicited advice on a continuous basis, "How was work?"

She groaned and covered her face with a pillow, "I need two bottles of wine before we even embark on that disastrous discussion...hellacious."

He pulled the satin adorned cushion from her face, "You could have left years ago Nita, moved after the divorce, started over in a different city..."

Nita raised her hand and kept her eyes on the fire burning in the hearth, Ellis knew he was right, but she was stubborn, and she refused to give him the satisfaction, "Deja and Jackson needed their father."

"Bullshit," Ellis rolled his eyes, "You're a dirty lie and a chicken." He lifted his body from the couch and held out his hand for to help Nita from her sunken spot, "Come eat, your dinner is getting cold."

They didn't speak while he piled pasta, red sauce with a mixture of sausage, peppers, and onions high on her plate. She polished off two glasses of wine and poured her third before dragging her exhausted frame from the center island to the table. They fell into an easy conversation about the events scattered about recent weeks. Ellis could tell his younger sister was struggling with her feelings surrounding the snub at her job. He had advised her time and time again, to move on. She was too smart to settle for what she received at her current employer. Fear kept her chained to her position at Peachtree and Ware. Their parents raised them to be confident, open minded, free thinkers, who never bit their tongues and at the moment Nita was anything but. Unfortunately he had more bad news to deliver. He allowed her to briefly enjoy her meal and he contemplated the best way to broach the subject of Deja Lynae Floyd.

"So," Nita looked up from her plate when Ellis stuttered on the one syllable word, "Deja got suspended." He waited for the curses to begin. The Red Foxx feigned heart attack to commence. Nothing, not a single vowel or consonant, she lowered her head and continued to push the food around her plate. He could tell the information disturbed her, but she didn't know where to begin. Most importantly he knew, like always, Nita blamed herself for her daughter's behavior.

Finally Nita dropped her fork, drained her glass, and met her brother's gaze, "What happened?"

He relayed the events the administrator had shared over the phone; the disrespectful attitude, the threats leveled at another student, and finally the fire the girl's cigarette started when she tossed the bud into the velour curtains shielding the stage in the school auditorium. He didn't repeat the thoughts tugging at his brain. Nita had been hell on wheels in junior high; a strong minded pre-teen unwilling to listen to anyone other than her parents. Why she would expect her child to be anything less was inexplicable. Deja was just like her mother, except instead of rebelling from the Perkins' family strict regime, the girl just wanted some attention from the sole parent actively involved in her life, "I think you should talk to her."

"What...so she can set me on fire?"

For the first time, the entire evening, Nita Floyd finally cracked a smile. Ellis quickly joined his sister on memory lane, "Don't even make that face, your behind was five times worse than Deja when you were thirteen."

Nita pretended to be offended, "I was misunderstood."

Ellis shook his head, "You were bad as hell." He paused, "Mean as a snake," He raised an eyebrow, "Nothing's changed."

Nita stood and tossed her eyes towards the stairs, "Maybe Steven was right, I can't..."

One twist of fate was all it took for Nita to doubt herself. Ellis stood and nudged her towards the steps, "Forget work...forget your miserable first husband...go talk to your baby," He rubbed his hand across her back, "She needs you."

And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Nita needed Deja, just as much, if not more.