Eddie rolled her eyes. “Girl, we been knowing that everyone got their own role. Whatchu think the Elders teach us? The revolution needs artists, just like it needs healers and storytellers, just like it needs the organizers and protesters. It’s all one big organism working together.”
“Then why you does give us so much shit?!”
Eddie made a face. “Well, it gets under our skin sometimes, you know. The way we putting our bodies on the line for Lucille only to get criticized by the same people we fighting for. Like, damn! So yeah, we clap back sometimes.”
Bitter stepped away from Eddie, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were judging us.”
“I mean, some Assata kids probably are, but it is what it is. The real question is, are you judging yourself for not having more capacity than you have?” Eddie tapped on her own chest. “That’s what you gotta figure out, in there. Who you’re really mad at. Us? Or yourself? And whatever system’s got you thinking you have to do or be everything instead of just finding your pocket and fighting from it. Like, imagine if everyone did that—just found their pockets and fought for the revolution however best they could, within their capacity.”
“Like Aloe and his healing,” Bitter said thoughtfully.
“Yeah, exactly! He’s wonderful at sound, sure, but man …” Eddie shook her head. “You should see him when he doing healing work, B. That’s a whole different person. Like he’s calm now, but when he’s working, it’s surreal. I ain’t never seen nothing like it. Aloe be moving like nothing can touch him, like he anointed or some shit. He ain’t scared of nothing, no one’s getting left behind. You look at him and you know that healers are soldiers too.”
Bitter narrowed her eyes. “You sounding real fond of him, oui?”
Eddie laughed and flopped down on Bitter’s bed. She looked so comfortable there that it made Bitter’s chest twinge a little. “Nah,” Eddie was saying. “You know I don’t do boys. He’s all yours.”
Bitter gave her a crooked smile and leaned her hip against the desk. “Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “I appreciate it.”
Eddie sketched out a small bow, bending just her head. “You’re welcome. I think he’s good for you, anyway.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not as … spiky as you used to be.”
Bitter blushed as she blurted out a confession. “He helps me feel safe. Like Blessing.”
Eddie beamed. “See, that’s important. I’m dating someone now who makes me feel like that too.”
“Oh, really? What’s she like?”
“Her name’s Malachite. She’s just … sweet and kind, you know? Feels like you wanna take care of her.”
“What’s her skill?” Bitter caught herself. “Sorry. I talking like she a Eucalyptus kid.”
“Nah, it’s cool. She grows food, works with the land, that kinda shit. Bakes fresh bread.”
“That sounds extremely wholesome.”
“It really is. Reminds me that we still gotta live, even while we fighting, you know?”
Bitter smiled. “I’m glad you have that.”
Eddie smiled back, her walls down. “Me too. And I’m glad Aloe made us talk. It was fun hating you, don’t get me wrong, but I think I’d like us better as friends.”
“Okay, deal.” Bitter reached out a fist, and Eddie dapped her. “Friends.”
“Bet.” Eddie looked around the room. “Now can we do the studio visit part? I gotta admit, I been curious about your art from jump—idk if Aloe woulda been able to get me here if he didn’t bribe me with a tour of your work.”
Bitter blushed again. She hadn’t known Eddie had been interested in her work at all, but then again, she’d worked very hard to keep Eddie out of her life back then. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s start over here. But doh judge—these are really old. Like from before I came to Eucalyptus old.”
“Ooh, we doing a deep dive! I’m here for it.” Eddie hopped off the bed, and Bitter pulled out one of her early portfolios, fragments from her old life that made up the foundation of who she’d become.
She showed Eddie the first painting, made of feathers and wax and ash. It was small enough to slip into a pocket, from back when Bitter needed to both hide her work and make sure she could run with it at any moment. Eddie held the piece in both hands, cradling it gently like it could splinter apart if her breath touched it. One of her braids had slipped free from its bun and hung softly against the curve of her neck.
“Wow,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to meet Bitter’s. “This is amazing, B.” Just like that, a warm bud unfurled between them, and as Bitter began to show her the rest of the work, she could feel something like friendship start to blossom again. Aloe was going to be so proud, she thought, but in that moment, Bitter was proud of herself for opening up and being honest, for doing the work to heal instead of believing things always had to stay broken.
“I never thought I’d live to see you settle down,” Blessing said, wiping a fake tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s so beautiful.”
Bitter shoved her. “Steups, man. It’s not that serious.”
“Y’all are attached at the hip—fuck you mean, it’s not that serious? You cut off all your hoes, got these dudes going through withdrawal—shit, that sounds serious to me.”
“Big facts,” Alex chimed in. It was after classes, and the girls were out in the garden on a large picnic blanket, passing a joint around. Blessing was in a full floral set—from her hijab to her bright sweatsuit and holographic sneakers. The air outside was crisp and cool. Alex had her head on Blessing’s thighs and was playing with the edge of her headscarf. “I’m just impressed you made up with Eddie. She and I go way back.”
Bitter took a drag and blew the smoke up into the sky, trying to keep her face expressionless. This was the closest Alex had ever gotten to admitting that she’d been part of Assata. It was like reconnecting with Eddie had brought Bitter into Alex’s inner circle, made her trust Bitter more, which made sense, knowing Assata and how insular they were. “Eddie’s a sweetheart,” she said. “We going for a walk later—she said she wants me to try sweet potato pie.”
Blessing took the joint from her. “You’ve never had it before? The chef’s definitely made it here.”
Bitter made a face. “Yeah, but … what sweet potato doing in a pie?”
Alex snorted in laughter. “Bless your heart,” she said. “I bet she’s gonna take you over by Mrs. Nelson. That’s the best pie in Lucille.”
“I doh know that restaurant,” Bitter said, and this time Blessing laughed.
“It’s not a restaurant,” she explained. “She sells homemade pies out of her kitchen. Her lemon meringue is out of this world. I would kidnap a small child for it.”
“Yeah, her husband’s the watermelon man.” Alex stretched in the sun like a cat. “When it’s cold, we get pies. When it’s hot, we get watermelons.”