A Missed Call
Kiki sat on the edge of their bed, still thinking about everything she’d seen at Ibrahim’s mother’s house after the funeral. Ibrahim had just changed into a plain white T-shirt and black pajama pants. He looked drained, emotionally and physically, as he ran a hand over his face.
“I’ve been thinking about your Aunt Tameka,” Kiki said quietly.
He looked over at her. “What about her?”
“There was something off.”
He sighed.
“Kiki…”
“I’m serious.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“When I wandered upstairs looking for the bathroom, I stopped and looked at the family portraits.”
“What about them?”
“I noticed she never really blended in with everybody else. In every picture she looked… distant. Like she didn’t want to be there. Everybody else looked like a family. She looked like she had some kind of grudge against them.”
Ibrahim shrugged.
“Everybody ain’t comfortable taking pictures.”
“I’m not talking about smiling.”
She looked him in the eyes.
“I’m talking about her energy.”
He stayed quiet.
“Then there was that phone call,” Kiki continued. “She was whispering, asking somebody about money. The second she saw us, she hung up and told the person not to tell anybody.”
“Everybody’s grieving, babe,” Ibrahim replied. “People deal with death differently.”
“Secretly, though?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. “She acted like she was hiding something.”
He sat beside her on the bed.
“It could’ve been funeral expenses… insurance… anything.”
“It could’ve been,” Kiki admitted. “But my gut is telling me it wasn’t.”
Ibrahim stared at the floor for a moment before letting out a long breath.
“You really think I should talk to her?”
“I do.”
He nodded slowly, still unsure.
“I’ll see if I can catch her before everybody starts leaving tomorrow.”
Kiki reached over and gently squeezed his hand.
“I’m not trying to make you suspicious of your family, Ibrahim.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t want you blindsided if something bigger is going on.”
For the first time that night, Ibrahim didn’t have an explanation.
He simply sat there in silence, replaying his aunt’s nervous behavior in his mind.
Kiki couldn’t shake the feeling in her chest.
Something wasn’t right.
She wasn’t imagining things, and she definitely wasn’t overthinking it.
Her intuition had gotten her out of bad situations before, and it had never screamed this loudly without a reason.
Ibrahim wanted to chalk his aunt’s strange behavior up to grief. His mother’s death had devastated the family, and he believed everyone was coping in their own way.
Kiki wasn’t buying it.
There was grief…
…and then there was secrecy.
Those were two completely different things.
As Ibrahim climbed into bed, he reached for her hand.
“You coming?”
“In a minute.”
He studied her face.
“You’re still thinking about my aunt.”
“I am.”
He sighed.
“I just don’t want you creating problems where there aren’t any.”
She gave him a small smile.
“And I don’t want you ignoring problems because they’re family.”
That made him pause.
“You’ve always believed the best in people,” she continued softly. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
He looked at her.
“But sometimes people hide behind tragedy. They know everyone is too distracted to notice what’s really going on.”
Ibrahim didn’t answer.
He simply rubbed his beard before lying back against the pillows.
“I don’t think Aunt Tameka would hurt anybody.”
“I never said she would.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying she’s hiding something.”
Silence settled between them.
After a moment, Ibrahim reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.
“You need some sleep.”
Kiki lay beside him, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.
Sleep was the last thing on her mind.
Instead, she replayed everything she’d seen.
The whispered phone call.
The conversation about money.
The hurried goodbye.
The uncomfortable expression in every family portrait.
The way Tameka always seemed to stand just a little farther away than everyone else.
It wasn’t one thing that bothered Kiki.
It was all of it together.
There were underlying issues in that family long before Ibrahim’s mother died.
And if she wanted answers, she’d have to find them herself.
As Ibrahim’s breathing grew heavier beside her, Kiki quietly reached for her phone on the nightstand.
She opened the notes app.
At the top of a blank page, she typed three words.
Aunt Tameka.
Then underneath it, she wrote the first question she intended to answer.
What is she hiding?
#reddit #goodreads #apowellbooks #redditstories #apowellbooks
Reading this story reminded me of how family gatherings, especially after a loss, can sometimes reveal more than just shared grief. In my own experience attending a funeral, I noticed subtle tensions and odd behavior from relatives that didn’t quite add up. Like Kiki’s observations about Aunt Tameka, those quiet moments—like a whispered phone call or a distant glance in a family photo—can speak volumes and hint at unresolved conflicts or hidden agendas. It’s often easy to dismiss such instincts as overthinking, particularly when emotions run high during times of mourning. However, as Kiki demonstrates, trusting your intuition can be crucial. It helped her recognize that grief and secrecy are different, and what appears as coping can sometimes mask deeper issues. From a personal point of view, I’ve found that family secrets sometimes hide behind normal behaviors and polite smiles. Photos, conversations, and even silences can reveal fractures that aren’t visible at first glance. It’s important to approach these situations with sensitivity while remaining alert to inconsistencies—just like Kiki and Ibrahim’s conversation shows. If you ever find yourself sensing something off after a family event, consider observing the subtle clues: secretive phone calls, unusual body language in photos, or whispers about money. These might indicate underlying problems you hadn’t thought about. Addressing these issues with care and honesty can be the first step in healing or uncovering the truth. Ultimately, "A Missed Call" is not just a story about a funeral. It’s a reminder that family dynamics are complex, and sometimes, silence or avoidance hides important stories waiting to be told. Reflecting on Kiki’s approach inspires me to pay closer attention to those nuances and to trust my instincts in delicate family matters.
