by Love Belvin
“Okay!” He flipped his chin, never losing his grin. Behind him, I could peep Trick coming into the waiting room, looking tired as hell. “Glad to see you still eatin’.”
“Always.” My eyes diverted behind him again and I gave him one last look before stepping off. “The grind don’t stop.”
I made my way over to my uncle, who was more like a brother coming up. We were only weeks apart in age.
Trick stood in place when he saw me headed his way.
“She up for company yet?”
He pulled his hands into the waistband of his sagging sweats, taking a deep breath. “Nah, man. She been cranky all night, buggin’ the fuck out. I just don’t want her to get worser. She was good these past two days.”
My damn eyes almost popped out of my head. It was one thing that I’d been waiting around to see my mother for over an hour, but now I find out she didn’t just get admitted tonight.
“Yo, you mean to tell me she been in here for a couple of days and nobody called me?”
“Easy, TB.” I felt a tug on my arm, annoying the fuck out of me.
It was my cousin, Lonnie, thinking I was going to spazz, I’d guess. Either way, him intervening pissed me off because it made the situation look more like a beef. Trick and I didn’t need more beef between us.
I pulled my arm away. “That ain’t necessary, fam,” I tried calming my tone. Tried. I was mad as hell. “I’m just asking questions here.”
“She good, though, TB. You here now. Let’s keep this positive. We don’t want her having another stroke.”
“A stroke.” My head shot back to Trick in front of me. “My moms had a stroke?”
“A few of them,” Trick hissed. “Doc said she mad lucky. It coulda been worser.” I swung my neck to the side, needing to look away. Moms had a stroke! “Look. You know how Brenda is, man. I prolly shouldn’ta said shit. She funny acting. So, don’t be flexing at me, dawg.”
I stretched my eyelids as my neck swayed left to right, surprised by that accusation. “Look, my dude, ain’t nobody flexin’. All I’m saying is I been down here for over an hour and I know you told her I was here. You the only one allowed to go in there?”
Trick’s nose spread wide on his dark face and his eyes narrowed. “I told her from the jump, but it’s on her who she want up in there. The fuck I look like? A damn social worker?”
And with that, he walked off to the chairs on the other side of the room where his girlfriend I met last year at Easter was sitting, into her phone. I watched as Snot-Snot strolled over to take a seat near them.
Letting go a deep breath, I went back to my wall by the window and sent Jade a text.
Me: Still at the hospital with my family. Go head to sleep. I’ll be in late.
Less than ten seconds later, my phone vibrated in my hands.
Jelly: You shouldn’t be out there AND this late by yourself Trent!!!
I sighed, remembering I didn’t tell her I snatched up Tyheem on the way down. He lived in Newark, grew up in the same neighborhood as StentRo. Before going to prison, I had two security guards that basically lived at the crib, claiming a room and staying out of my hair. Now that I needed—and could afford—security again, I needed to think of more convenient access to Tyheem. He’d just come from Cali with me earlier and was supposed to be off, like me, for the next few days. That was deaded when I called him to make this run with me.
Me: Tyheem down here with me. I’m good. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
I prayed she didn’t ask me for details. Jade stayed in my ass. It was her personality. She thought she knew my family as much as I did. Last thing I needed was her worried. Jade played it cool earlier with Sylvia Tinsel. Telling her I was down here for my moms—who seemed like she didn’t want to see me—would send her over the edge. My wife was the poster child for violent jealousy and overprotectiveness when it came to me and her son, Kyree. A beast.
Jelly: Okay. Be safe.
I let go of another breath before kicking my right leg behind me, against the wall and leaning back. God was definitely looking me out today as far as she was concerned. I didn’t need “Jade problems” right now. Instead of sweating what I couldn’t change, I decided to hit up social media. I spent the next unaccounted amount of time doing that.
When I hit the Facebook Pages Manager app, I came across an inbox from someone I wasn’t friends with, but knew. After reading the name, my face folded.
Trenton Jackson.
My father. I hadn’t heard from dude in years. Like… Crazy years. This was a time I could use Shank around. I’d toss it to him to play middle man. Right now, I didn’t want to deal with it, so I decided to put him on freeze and moved on.
From the side of my eyes, I saw a thick woman with a short haircut and glasses walking in the hallway, going toward my mother’s door, just outside of the waiting room. She wore a white blouse, tight ass black slacks, and flat shoes. She worked here. I stood straight, waiting to see what this was all about.
She came into the waiting room and looked around, trying to make eye contact with as many as she could. Her name tag said Tammy, and I swore she looked familiar. Like a broad Shank used to hook up with. Hell… Shank had a lot of them—too many to recall. Then I wondered if I associated her with him because there wasn’t a day he didn’t cross my mind. Being real: there hadn’t been a day since we released him on Macen Beach that I didn’t feel him with me. It was strange. Jade said I never allowed myself time to mourn him. I told her, it still felt like he was with me.
Crazy…
“Hey, y’all. I just told Brenda I have to ask you to leave. I okayed my staff to let so many up and after visiting hours out of respect.” She nodded toward me. “But it’s almost two in the morning and all visitors must go.”
I heard people moving behind me. But I was stuck. Tammy must have noticed it. I saw the muscles in her face tighten.
“Could you tell her, her son is out here? I ain’t see her yet.” I asked.
I could hear a sigh from behind me and seconds later, Trick brushed past me with a leather bag in his hand, rocking a black army jacket.
“Tell her I’ll be up tomorrow wit’ mommy,” he mumbled to Tammy while storming out with his shortie right behind him.
“Peace, TB,” Snot-Snot bade, following.
A slap on my shoulder had me snapping my neck. “Good seeing you, Trent. God bless,” Lonnie croaked, sounding tired.
I nodded, seeing them all off.
When I turned back to Tammy she held a finger in the air, asking me for a moment. She left the waiting room, going back to my mother’s. I watched her through the glass. Not even ten seconds later she walked out, her face to the floor. When she stepped into the visitor’s lounge, I sensed it coming. I was familiar with the look of an adult trying to prepare to explain the bullshit of a parent to her child.
“She’s really tired. Didn’t do well today,” Tammy tried. “Maybe tomorrow—”
I cut off her attempt to sweeten the sourness of pure bullshit my moms kicked in my face once again.
I tried for a charming smile to mask the pain. “’S’all goodie. You have a good night.” I turned to catch Tyheem’s attention. He was right behind me.
With a swinging of my head, I told him what time it was, and together, we stepped off.
On the ride back to North Jersey, Jeezy blasted from the speakers. I sat back, slumped in the passenger seat with my hood covering most of my face. Exhausted, and physically beat up at close to four in the morning, I still couldn’t sleep. My chest was tight and damn stomach doing flips. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but after experiencing the shit all my life, I knew what it was.
She hurt my fucking feelings. Again.
One thing was for sure, I couldn’t carry a bruised heart home to my woman. I was no bitch. I’d just eat it like I always did. When I got ready to, I’d tell her about it, just leave out the details of the pain.
Jade was curled up in a little ball underneath the com
forter. She’d be hard to notice if she hadn’t been doing this for close to a year and a half. But this wasn’t her hiding. It was her comfort in my bed. As tired as I was, I showered and brushed my teeth before turning in with the same ache in my chest I brought back from the hospital. The sun was about to come up when I pulled back the comforter and shifted next to her. I collected a few pillows behind my back and head before lying down. Then I grabbed her little frame and pulled her over to me. In her subconscious, Jade crawled on top of me. I pulled her legs to straddle me, her arms pushed up, under the wings of my back as her cheek lay against my chest.
I swear, the moment she stopped moving, the pain went away. Her small frame over me felt like a muscle relaxant. Right away, those feelings of rejection were only a memory. They weren’t manifested in my body.
My arms snaked around her small back and hips. So tiny, Jade felt as small as a toddler in my arms. I squeezed, inhaling her berry scent, feeling sedated right away.
God, thank you…
I woke up on my stomach, alone. Right away, I could tell I’d slept in. That was the plan, but I was supposed to do it with a five foot, one inch firecracker with swollen cherries and fat peach. I grabbed my phone and saw it was after ten in the morning, and that Jade left a note for me via text.
Jelly: Taking Ky to the doctor and then to buy him more jeans. Call me when you wake up.
My face folded. I hoped Kyree wasn’t getting worse. I called her right away. The phone rang twice before she answered.
“Hey, baby.” The sound of her voice made my wood jolt in my boxers. “We’re just about to leave the doctor’s office.” She was politely rushing me.
“Everything good with lil man?”
“Yeah,” she assured with a high pitch. “She just wanted to see him for a follow up. He was a lot better this morning. I think it was the last of that nasty bug.”
“Oh. A’ight.” I rubbed my eyes. “Just checking in.”
“Okay. Gotta go. Your breakfast’s in the microwave. Okay?”
I exhaled while stretching over the bed. “A’ight. Thanks.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
I stretched one last time before taking off for the bathroom. After taking a leak and washing my face and brushing my teeth, I shot downstairs for some grub. Just as she said, in the microwave was a plate stacked with protein pancakes, turkey bacon, and an egg white vegetable omelet. I opened the fridge and saw the saucer with fresh blueberries and sliced strawberries. My stomach growled then it smiled. I nuked the plate in the microwave, tossed my fresh fruit on my pancakes, and sat at the island to eat.
My phone pinged of an email as I was chowing down and browsing Jade’s IG page. It was from Jeremiah Brown, a reporter for the Hartford Gazette. The Kings didn’t have an official reporter, but he was given access to fill that gap: covering the games, players, and the team as a whole. He’d been around for a while. A few years before my arrest, he was at Sports Illustrated then moved on to Connecticut. I’d signed off on him covering my comeback, and okayed for him to interview Jade after hard thinking.
“Come on, TB. It would be a nice touch, and give your fans insight into your new infrastructure,” he practically begged.
My life was now private. If I’d learned anything after my public disgrace, it was the less they knew about my life, the less betrayed I’d feel when it’s scrutinized. It was a battle for days. Jade said she was cool with it, and honestly, what swayed the pendulum was my guilt for hiding our marriage. Jade was totally fine with keeping it on the low, but as a man, it seemed wrong not laying claim to my woman publicly. I felt letting her be interviewed was the least I could do to legitimize her spot in my world.
The email he sent had the finished product as an attachment. As I chowed down on breakfast, I read it. It was lengthy, detailing my career since high school and of course, coverage on my arrest, trial, conviction, and imprisonment. Brown even visited my old prison to get insight into the type of inmate I was. That was weird as hell. It was intrusive. Jade came in the third quarter of it. He called her my “providential conservator.” I had no idea what the hell that meant and looked up the two words on my phone to get a better understanding.
Brown followed me for a few days after the Super Bowl. He came out to California with me and flew back to the East Coast last week where he spent a day with Jade. From what I was reading, Jade gave him the tour of the house to show off her designs. She shared before pictures with him and gave reasons as to how and why she chose the personality of the rooms. She said they all represented me in some way. She didn’t allow pictures to be published and only toured the first floor and gym. Brown wrote about being impressed by her knowledge of styles and periods of interior design. I didn’t know exactly what that meant. There was mention of mid-century modern design. I had no idea what that was, but apparently the den was that style.
There was mention of Edwardian décor: my living room. One of the guest bedrooms was a Georgian style. I snickered, realizing I was learning about pieces of my life from reading this article. Leave it to Jade to school the world and me, too.
Those home economics classes her moms put her through paid off…
I was done eating when I made it to the question he asked her about Trenton Bailey, the fortuitous favored man.
Another visit to Google to look up the definition…
Her answer had me tensing in my seat over the island.
“Trenton is generous beyond measure. There’s a door to his heart that remains open indiscriminately. He’s a giver—even when it isn’t reciprocated, rarely recovering what he needs to sustain. He’s a man’s man. Fiercely protective and unimaginably strong. I haven’t encountered a man whose arms have been strong enough to encase all of me. Never had a heart and head aligned, and together, determined to protect and serve me. That is who Trenton Bailey is,” she shared wistfully with her eyes squeezed and cheeks crimsoned, stained with passion.
“What the hell?” I found myself asking out loud, tapping to go back to Google. I knew she was smart; way more intelligent than she liked hood people to know. She hid beneath her capabilities to fit in. Her written words reminded me of that.
Jeremiah Brown was a good dude and all, but he’d better not been trying to get at my lady with fancy ass romantic words. He could keep that poetic shit.
And Jade…
Was that a quote? My little one said that? About me?
“Fiercely protective and unimaginably strong…”?
Is that how she felt about me? The man who was turned away from his mother’s hospital bed last night? The one going back today like the damn sad dog I’d always felt like as a kid, wanting her to be happy with me?
My head dropped into my open palms over the countertop, and I felt my chest tighten again. I couldn’t let this girl down. I had to live up to what she believed me to be. Had to. Jade wasn’t the only person I had to look out for. She had a seven-year-old son, who was watching me, too.
God, what am I doing? I prayed silently.
As I put my plate away, getting ready to head back down to Camden to see my moms, I decided I’d keep this to myself a little longer. At least until I had a better handle on it myself. Maybe today she’d at least let me come into the room.
“You better wear those jeans, too, Ky.” I glanced back at him from the rearview mirror. His little head came up from his iPod, his eyes brighter than I’d seen in days. “You can’t wear cargos every day.”
We’d just come from shopping for pants for him. I bought him clothes in September for school, and already he’d outgrown his size sevens. The kid was sprouting like a weed. So far, he had no temperature today, and I was hoping it was the end of his bug.
“Mom, I’m gonna wear all of them,” he gruffed.
I twisted my mouth. “You better. These clothes are expensive.”
When I was ready to issue more warnings my phone rang.
Lex…
I tapped to answer.
; “Hey, Lex.”
“He got me again. I’m pregnant,” boomed through the Bluetooth of the truck.
My eyes leaped to the rearview mirror at Kyree. He seemed unfazed, eyes glued to his device.
“Child alert. I’m in the truck.”
“Shit.” she swore under her breath.
My eyes ballooned. “First Lady!” I reminded her.
“Damn!” she cried, picking up on my shunning.
I knew she meant no harm. She was just as in transition into her husband as I was mine. Only Lex, being married to a reputable pastor of a mega church, had to walk a finer line—even in private.
One of the many benefits of being in Trent’s life included my budding friendship with his pastor and his wife—mostly his wife. His pastor, Ezra Carmichael, I still found too intimidating and imposing in physical and spiritual stature to be comfortable with. However, after having been around them for a few months, his wife, Lex, began to warm to me.
Admittedly, I pushed for a relationship with the couple when I realized how much Trent valued his relationship with his pastor—a friendship that really wasn’t your typical pastor/parishioner association.
“I’m trying, but did you hear what I just said?”
And she had been trying to fight the demons that attracted me to her, genuinely this time. For all intents and purposes, Lex was a hood chick, whose refinement was uncovered by her wholesome husband. Her upbringing was in direct contrast to mine. I was raised in affluence, but wanted to facade it with artificial coarseness to fit in with people no different than where Lex was from.
“I know,” I sighed, feeling the tension in my shoulders. “I’m sorry.” I should have responded to her apparent emergency first. “Wait…” My brows met in confusion. “You’re upset about it?”
“I just had a damn baby last year!” she shrieked. “I wanted to go back to school for my MBA. How can I do that with two babies draining my tits and a crazy caveman on my as—” She grunted, catching herself.
“Wow,” I tried. “I’m sorry to hear about your dilemma. But I think you’re going to be okay, Lex. If you and Pastor Carmichael don’t want more after this one, you can seek out permanent birth control.”
