by Nako
Her frail hands did their best to scribble her baby’s name.
Kniko.
She then scribbled a question with a question and exclamation mark for dramatic measure.
Where is my baby!?
η
“How is your day going so far?”
A simple question for some, but for Carmen Kincaid it was loaded. An extremely heavy one. All she could do was nod her head as she lazily peered out of the window.
Wishing, hoping and praying that her circumstances could change. If only she possessed the willpower to do so.
She sighed loudly, before turning her head to her mother and gave her a weak smile.
“I can’t even find the strength to talk some days, momma,” she openly shared with her best friend. Her mother was a bright light in her life and the captain of her support system.
She sat the tray of food down, knowing her baby wouldn’t bother touching it till hours later, when her grumbling stomach would force her to take a bite.
“One day at a time,” was her mother’s only advice. She’d been saying the mantra for years. It just so happened that lately, it was those few choice words that constantly pushed Carmen over into another twenty-four hours.
She was advised to take her time getting back to her life. But, after almost seventeen months of strenuous therapy and a lot of prayer, she was anxious. Carmen was desperate to commence the life she thought she was looking forward to on the day she planned on leaving her husband. She couldn’t wait until she had the energy to file for divorce. You would think that once a nigga tried to kill you, the courts would automatically separate you but nope. She still had to file the proper way. There was no way in hell she would remain married to him. In her mind, she was Carmen Kincaid again.
She spent hours and hours creating her business plan. She was eager to begin a new journey. A path that was all hers.
“Have you thought about doing some of the exercises that your therapist suggested?”
Carmen shook her head. She had her Holy Bible behind the sofa pillow, that was honestly all she needed, or so she thought.
They both heard a loud, roaring engine pull up and she knew it could only be one person.
Simultaneously they called out, “Casey is here.”
Twinsies.
Her mother flashed her a dashing smile, “I’ll get the door.”
Blended families took on a whole ‘nother meaning in the Kincaid household. They were the definition of blended families before the social media hype of co-parenting at its finest. Blended families didn’t have anything on how Courtney Kincaid ran his house. Literally. Two families under one roof with one thing in common, which was him.
Carmen despised having company as a little girl growing up. Whereas, Casey thrived on the attention. His bright smile would light up at the mention of his Pops being “the man.”
However, for Carmen she was disgusted and embarrassed. Perhaps, it was because she and her mom lived in the basement, like kept and well-maintained peasants. While Casey and his mother, who was the wife of Courtney Kincaid, stayed on the main floor.
Once she turned eighteen, she planned on moving out after graduation. She was forced to apply to college, although her mind was elsewhere and not on another four years of schooling. She didn’t have a choice; she nor Casey. What made it even worse was that they were expected to attend the college that their father was a big-time alumni. However, the summer before the semester was slated to begin, Carmen found out she was pregnant as result of a one-night stand. The act of being so bold wasn’t in her nature. She was out on some drunk, my life is finally mine type-shit. She didn’t even know the man yet, her dad being a well-connected guy, tracked the fucker down and forced him to marry his daughter. Carmen packed up her things and moved in with a man that she didn’t know nor love. All so that her father could save face.
Leaving her mother to stay in the basement and settle, as she had been doing her whole life.
The relationship that Carmen and her father had was an estranged one. He cared and she didn’t. Telling herself that if he really was concerned with her, he would show it. Something he never did, in her opinion. Everything about him was fake, egotistical and she hated to be in the same room as him for too long.
“Whoa,” Carmen mumbled under her breath as she just so happened to look out the window again.
Her mother asked, “What?”
She wasn’t in the mood for this.
“Tell them I was sleeping,” she said quickly. Using all the strength that she had, she struggled to get off the couch, but she did, although it damn near took the wind out of her.
“What?” her momma questioned again.
But it was too late.
The doorbell chimed, followed by a knock.
A strong knock.
Her mom was utterly confused while Carmen muttered, “Fuck,” as she watched her mom turn around and amble through the foyer to let their guest in.
Carmen tried to plaster a smile so fake on her face but couldn’t.
Those days of lying and pretending were over.
Her mom reappeared with three people behind her. It was only one person out of the bunch she was happy to see.
The other two could’ve stayed in the car or sent roses.
“Carm, look who’s here…the family,” she added an emphasis on the latter of her sentence.
As she had been doing her whole life…she knew how to fake the funk. Lord knows she could do it well. The other day, Bishop T.D. Jakes said something about forsaking the façade, and desperately she wanted her family, all of them, to stop faking. Why were they all collectively wearing the mask? Puppets of her father. Carmen had to break this generational curse. She needed to. But until then, she used that child-like voice that her almost thirty-something self-needed to let go of and greeted her family with adoration and admiration that she never really had for them. Except for her brother, of course.
“Oh my God! Hey brother, hey daddy, hi Mom!”
That was mandatory growing up…calling her father’s wife mom. Casey calling her momma the same. It was weird and all too much.
“Hi baby girl, Casey told us you were home. Why didn’t you let us know, Sheila?”
She shook her head, “I left a note on the fridge.”
Unfortunately, her mother still lived in that demon-possessed home. Casey had her up in one of his many rental properties until she got back on her feet. Telling Carmen that it was absolutely no rush to move out. Her brother, much like their father was a very successful man; a millionaire at that.
She cherished Casey, truthfully. So, when he glided past their small family and swept her into his arms, she melted. Knowing that the hug, love, and affection was from a genuine place.
Missy, her “other” mother smiled at the both of her now grown kids.
“Courtney, they’re old now. Sheila, how do you feel?” she asked as if they were fresh out of high school.
Carmen and Casey were not too far apart in age and had been “old” for quite some time.
“We raised them right,” was all Sheila said in response.
Courtney chimed in, “A phone call to let us know that she was released would’ve been great. Do better,” he warned Sheila.
She felt herself preparing to go off until Casey rubbed the middle of her arm. Something he did often while they were growing up.
She relaxed almost instantly.
“It’s good to see y'all,” she lied through clenched teeth.
“I’ll bring out some tea,” Sheila announced, and Missy told her, “No need dear. We were just stopping by to lay on eyes on Carmen. Casey’s treating us to lunch.”
What was new? she thought to herself.
“Oh okay.”
Sheila honestly didn’t know what to say so she just stood there.
Courtney turned to his daughter and asked, “Have you spoken to Kniko?”
He loved his grandson. Raved over him more than he ever did his own ch
ild. However, Carmen was thankful that they accepted her kid, despite the circumstances.
“Yes, he’s…fine. He wants to stay with his grandmother though.”
Casey didn’t agree, “Bullshit.”
“Go get your son. He doesn’t have a choice.”
She didn’t want to talk about this right now.
Sheila sensed her discomfort and stepped in, “She’s only been home a few days—"
“Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and then before we know it, he’ll be back home and raising Kniko,” Missy stated.
Carmen felt her skin getting hot.
“I am going to go over there tomorrow,” she found her voice again.
Courtney took a deep breath, “You let us know if you need anything, kiddo.”
She hated when he called her that. She wasn’t his fucking kiddo.
They all bid their farewell. Sheila walked them out and then came back into the living room to a teary-eyed Carmen.
“You ever wish you can just run away from them?”
Sadly, her mother still had a thing for Courtney Kincaid.
She shook her head, “Your father loves you, very much.”
Sometimes, her mother sounded so programmed. As if she was living in a daze. It bothered and annoyed the heck out of her. Because those who knew Sheila prior to meeting Courtney, the asshole, all said that she was so lively. She used to boil over with joy and excitement about life itself. Her mother was an artist. She loved beautiful things. Meeting Courtney, shouldn’t have went any further than that. Somehow, a simple introduction became a whirlwind romance that he refused to stop just because he was in love with another woman. When he found out she was pregnant, he went to Missy and asked could Sheila move in.
Missy suggested the basement, refusing to leave her husband and the life he came with.
She swallowed her pride and pushed away her own morals and values to appease her husband, which was crazy.
Sheila moved in weeks later.
Months after, Carmen was born, and the rest is history.
“I’m going to take a nap,” she announced to her mother. Carmen needed some time to herself.
They were too much to handle at times and on top of still mentally trying to process that she’d been shot. Everything was one big tough pill to swallow.
The last year of her life had been hasty. No one understood how it felt to see every high and low flash before your eyes. According to the doctors, there was no way she was supposed to survive that shooting.
“She’s not going to make it.”
“Consider pulling the plug.”
“Is she an organ donor?”
The odds were stacked against her.
She wondered if he really wanted her dead.
She could imagine the look on his face when he was told she survived.
When most would’ve counted her out, Carmen used all her might to fight and pull through.
But, she did.
Seven surgeries.
Damn near dying twice on the table.
Impaired speech, new teeth, intensive physical therapy and a psychological evaluation. Not to mention being in a coma for four months. Like Kanye said, Carmen had been through the mother fucking fire.
Like a Phoenix, she rose.
She was still breathing, and that alone was a blessing. One she was truly grateful for.
Now, she had to get her son back. Before her in-laws, who honestly weren’t bad people, brainwashed her son not to love her anymore. Kniko didn’t show her any signs of emotion or expressions of love when she first laid eyes on him after coming out of an induced coma. She wanted him to embrace her. To cry and scream out. She assumed he would be thankful that his momma hadn’t been taken away from him. He was the reason why she existed. Kniko was her purpose. Carmen only wore two hats – mother and wife. Mother being first. Although, at first, she didn’t want to keep her baby, all those regretful thoughts were quickly tossed out of the window when she laid eyes on her precious son. She cried tears of joy at how beautiful her blessing was.
He didn’t ask her where she’d been all that time or anything. He only stared at her, as if she was a stranger. Not the woman that had loved and nurtured him day in and out.
Carmen was a homemaker, she did nothing but serve her two men.
Yet, his eyes disappointed her when they stared back into hers.
Carmen took the steps, one at a time knowing she needed to keep her limbs moving daily. The progress she had made in such a short time, was substantial. She would be back to herself soon.
Once she made it to the master bedroom, she sighed as she took a seat on a gray tufted ottoman near the window.
It’s amazing how the body can learn itself all over again.
Her brain worked. Her legs moved. Her mouth opened and closed. She was fortunate. Never again would she take the little things for granted.
Carmen Kincaid was considered someone that medical doctors would go on to write articles and such about.
She was a story.
A subject.
A trending topic.
A headline on the news for quite some time.
Her husband was sitting in a jail cell, rotting. Hopefully. She’d been praying that someone raped him or tried to kill his ass in there, but it hadn’t happened yet.
On some nights she woke up in a cold sweat. In disbelief that this man even had the BALLS to try and kill her. She wondered would she ever gain the confidence to ask him why did he pull the trigger. What possessed him to even think that was the right thing to do? Did their child not cross his mind? Did he hate her?
Because, surely the action wasn’t done out of love. The thing is…Carmen didn’t hate him at the time. She just wanted more out of life. She desired more for herself. Their relationship wasn’t productive nor was she growing with him. What was wrong with believing in fairytales? Yes, she was an avid reader and those romance books she filled her nights with had her feeling that it was possible to be with a man that would constantly lay the red carpet out at your feet, and so what? Love was a feasible thought. She was going to experience love one day. True love. She knew it. Was it a sin to desire a love that didn’t feel forced? She knew that the Bible was against divorce, but truth be told, the Bible didn’t agree with a lot of things and Carmen was still going to aim to make it in Heaven.
Carmen had dreams that he didn’t understand, nor did he try. He turned a blind eye and a deaf ear towards anything that she was interested in. It seemed as if he believed her only role in life was to be a mother and wife. For Carmen, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to reach for the stars.
It wasn’t even fame she was after. It was success. The pure feeling of being accomplished. She refused to dumb herself down to lift another up. It wasn’t happening. Carmen knew that she was different. She knew that there were gifts dwelling on the inside of her.
All she had to do was tap in.
If she stayed married to him, it wouldn’t be possible. What she learned during her period of recovery was that sometimes things had to be cut off for you to heal. She had to grow through what she went through. Her ambition was at a high. She was motivated like never before. She could feel herself being elevated.
Carmen took another deep breath as she mustered up the strength to make it from the small corner of the room to the bed.
She had to take things one day at a time, as her mother and the doctors suggested. She couldn’t rush her healing and that was in every aspect. Mentally.
Physically.
Emotionally.
Spiritually.
Carmen was trusting that the timing of her life was already ordained and seen about by God. She had to go through the trials to endure the good times. She couldn’t wait to look back at this time of strife, pain and confusion and rejoice because she had persevered. Never giving up. Not complaining or worrying about what she couldn’t change or control as of yet.
This was a season. A season of stillness which was a
little windy but in due time, it would be sunny again and Carmen couldn’t damn wait.
The next morning, she woke up, shocked that she’d slept through the day. Carmen hadn’t taken any of her meds or ate so she got out of bed as fast as she could. After showering and handling her hygiene, she took the steps one by one and turned for the kitchen. Her brother was making a sandwich and she startled him by asking him to make her one as well.
“You’re finally up.”
She nodded her head, “I guess I was tired.” She didn’t know that her energy was on low but normally that’s what happened whenever she had been around her father. He drained the life right out of her.
“Mom left out to run some errands,” he let her know.
Carmen wanted to ask him how did it feel having two mothers…but knew that Casey would laugh it off. As he had always done. Nothing seemed to bother her smooth-talking, life is amazing, it is what it should be, easy-going brother. Carmen wished for that mindset.
She was a worrier and she struggled with overanalyzing every little thing and was always anxious as hell.
He made their sandwiches and then joined her at the table.
They ate in silence and she could feel Casey’s orbs drilling holes into the side of her face.
“I wish you would say whatever it is that you’re brooding about.”
His sister knew him well, he could only chuckle before clearing his throat to ask, “Do you want me to visit him?”
She wiped away the mayo and mustard from the corners of her mouth before shaking her head, “No, for what?” she wanted her family to stay as far away from that monster as possible.
His sister wasn’t timid anymore. Right after the shooting, you couldn’t drop a pen without her shrieking or cowering behind a pillow. They all asked her several times was she being abused prior to that night and her answer never changed.
It was always no.
She didn’t like him, wasn’t attracted to him anymore nor could she stand being around him for too many hours in the day. Yet and still, he had never given her a reason to hate him nor had he ever laid hands on her. He was an okay husband, nothing to brag about. Carmen would bet the few dollars she had that he would make another woman happy. A woman who didn’t want more out of life. A woman who was satisfied with the bare minimum. That woman wasn’t Carmen.
