Nicole’s story “What’s in a Name” appears in the March issue of Kweki

Faye moved quickly, though her movements were strategic, seamless in a way that appeared as practiced as a fire drill. For months she planned it.  She packed her bags, stuffing essential items that were already sorted—documents with notary signatures, her Jamaican passport with her green card and social security card tucked safely inside it, her youngest son’s birth certificate, his passport, his school records, health records—everything he might need over there, everything with the name his father gave him, the name she stood by, because there was no other name.  Faye also grabbed a couple pictures of her three boys, something to remind her that she had not wasted twenty years of her life.  The two older boys were out the house now, living their own lives as men with women that catered to them, fed them, cleaned them, housed them, forgave their infidelities, washed and ironed their clothes— things Faye had long surrendered to the sweet, doting women who, God help them, longed for roles they were taught to aspire to.  She paused before grabbing her youngest son’s things—the things boys would wear, the things she bought him, hoping.  Her left hand with the glistening wedding band on her ring finger was suspended over the t-shirts, sweatshirts, and pairs of blue jeans before some external force lowered it.  Faye picked them up, feeling for the first time, uncertain.  She put them in the suitcase.

Read the rest of the story here:

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