“Okay.”
And just like that, she let it go because she trusted me.
“Go wash your hands,” I said gently. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
I moved through the kitchen on autopilot, pulling things out, setting them down, going through motions I had done a hundred times before.
But my mind wasn’t there.
It was ahead. Thinking about conversations I hadn’t had yet and her questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. A little girl trying to understand why her father wasn’t coming home. I gripped the edge of the counter for a second, steadying myself.
Because of that, that was the part I wasn’t ready for. I could handle losing Charles. After Xavier, I didn’t see the world in color anymore, only black and white. I just didn’t know how to help Genesis understand it.
* * *
For the firsttime in years, I called out without over-explaining, without justifying it, without trying to prove that I was still dependable, still in control, still the version of myself everyone expected me to be. I just stayed home.
Genesis sat at the kitchen table that morning, swinging her legs as she ate, talking about something that happened at school yesterday as if nothing in her world had shifted yet. I listened, nodded when I needed to, smiled when she looked at me, but my mind wasn’t on her story. It was on everything I needed to figure out next.
After I dropped her off at school, I sat in the car longer than I meant to. The engine was off, the street quiet, parents already pulling away and moving on with their day like nothing had changed. I stared straight ahead, my hands resting loosely on the wheel.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a plan. Not one that had already been laid out for me. Not one that came with guidance, structure, or someone else’s expectations attached to it.
Just space.
My phone sat in the cup holder. I picked it up, stared at the screen for a second, then I called my sister.
Kenya answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I said.
There was a brief pause, then recognition softened her voice. “Chanel?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
I exhaled quietly. “I’m figuring it out.”
“That’s something,” she said gently.
I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes for a moment. “Charles left.”
She didn’t interrupt and didn’t rush to respond.
“He filed for divorce,” I added. “He met someone else.”
“You home?” she asked.
“No. I just dropped Genesis off at school.”
“You’re moving back home, right?”
I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know what it would feel like to step back into something I had distanced myself from.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“That’s alright,” she said softly. “You don’t have to know everything right now.”