She bucked her eyes. “You say that like that’s my problem. At the end of the day, I don’t stay with you, so whoever told them didn’t lie on you.”
“It sounds like that’s what you wanted. To see me lose my shit!”
“What? Okay, let me say this.” she sat that baby on the counter top, while holding him up. “I never apologized to you, so I will now. I’m sorry, Meeka. Regardless of anything, I had no business fucking Omari in your house, but as far as anything else... you can miss me.”
“No, you had no business fucking him, period!” I shouted.
She shook her head. “See, that’s where you wrong at. I don’t owe you shit. Definitely not any loyalty. I should’ve just handled Omari outside of your house, but I’m not about to listen to you play victim here. You the same woman who subjected me to sexual abuse because of your stupidity. You kept choosing the wrong niggas, and I suffered the most from your bad decisions. I was a child when your man stuck his dick in me!” she roared. “And what did you do? Called me a liar to my face, whupped my ass, and continued to lay up with that nigga. If it wouldn’t have been for that man getting me pregnant I would probably still be stuck at that house, getting fucked.”
My nostrils flared, as she brought up the situation with Mon. It was true. After she’d told me that he was touching her, I whupped her, because I felt like she was lying. Then she goes to the school nurse and tell her that she’s pregnant by my man. They come and arrest him, and then once her grandma on her daddy’s side takes her to get a abortion the police were able to determine paternity. That’s when Mon was convicted of rape. So, yes, all of that had happened, but I felt in my heart that she’d played a role in it all. She was constantly wearing little clothes up her ass, trying to entice him. I also believe him when he says that she was a willing participant in all of their sexual encounters. Hell, we all knew that she had no problem fucking my men.
“Girl, please. We both know that you fucked Mon willingly,” I snarled.
Her jaw dropped. “Wow, I can’t believe that you said that. Get out of my house, Meeka.” She pointed at the door.
“You want me gone for telling the truth?”
“The truth?!” she exploded. “The truth is that you’re a weak ass bitch that got the fucking worse taste in niggas. You took me through all types of changes, because of what your nigga decided to do to me. I gained weight from being pregnant with that bastard’s baby, and you stopped all my activities after. You kept me in the fucking house, never bought me clothes, stopped getting my hair done, all while spending my fucking money. When Omari first came around, he was helping me get the necessities. Shit that I had no business being in need of. You left me in that fucked up position, but wonder how shit ended up the way that it did. Before he came along, I was imprisoned, because of the shit you allowed to happen to me, but somehow blamed me for. And now you come to my house to basically ask me why I ruined your life. You gotta be crazy. Shit, after everything you’ve done to me, Omari was fair game. So, I took him. Now, get your broke, homeless ass the fuck outta my house!”
I slung my purse onto the kitchen’s island. “Who the fuck are you talking to? Don’t you know that I’ll beat the brakes off your big trifling ass?”
She snidely laughed. “Beat the brakes off me? Lady, you wish. The only thing that ever saved your ass was you being my mama, but that shit is dead. You aint no mama of mine, and if you run up, I’ma slide your ass.”
“Well, slide me then, bitch,” I gritted.
“Okay.” She nodded, rushing over to the couch, sitting that baby down.
“What’s up?” I got into boxing stance, ready to go to war.
Mya stood still, before cracking up laughing. “You’re really sad, you know that? Here I am with your grandchild that you’ve just met for the first time today, and you’re ready to duke it out in front of him. But for what? Why are you so angry? You’d really fight me, after a year of not seeing me, over some niggas?”
“Hell, yeah!” I barked.
“It’s sad, because I could never imagine having that much hate for my own child. I’d love him no matter what,” her voice cracked. “Why can’t you love me, Meeka?” she cried. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to ask you. And that’s why I allowed you to step into my home. Deep down, I was hoping that you’d somehow seen the light, and was prepared to fix our relationship. Because I was ready to forgive everything, so that I could feel what it’s like to have a mama again. So, I don’t wanna fight,” she sobbed, sounding fucking pathetic.
“You actually standing there, begging me to love you, while you got that little bastard on the couch? The little bastard that you made from fucking my man? You honestly think that any part of me can love your worthless ass, after that?”
“And that’s why you can get the fuck out!” she belted.
“Bitch, make me!” I lashed, charging at her.
“Meeka, move!” she shoved me back. “I’m telling you, now. I’m not gone keep allowing you to run up on me.”
“Fuck you!” I spewed, gripping her hair.
Effortlessly, she grabbed my legs, before body-slamming me onto the floor. I hit the floor hard, causing me to lose a grip on her hair. She then placed her knee on my neck, before whaling on my face. She had the tightest grip on my weave, and it felt like she was ripping my hair from the roots. I was kicking my feet, trying to escape her grasp, as she dragged me across the floor.
“Stop!” I screamed, just before she violently slung me against a wall. When she delivered the final blow, it felt like she’d broken my nose. “Owww!” I howled in pain.
Once she backed off me, I scrambled to my feet. My nose was leaking all over the floor, and I was infuriated. So, I raced over to my purse, and rummaged through it, before locating my pistol. Spinning around, I trained my gun on that bitch Mya, who’d just picked up that baby, while he wailed at the top of his lungs.
“M…Meeka, what are you doing?” her voice trembled.
I clenched. “I brought your ungrateful ass into this world, and I’ll take you out.”
“You’ll take me out?” she cried. “Why? Why do you hate me so much?”
“Shut the fuck up!” I commanded, as blood flowed from my nose, and I wiped it away with the back of my palm. “I pushed your ass out of me, and this is the thanks I get? You fucking jump on me? But now you wanna cry, while you holding that ugly ass baby. You want me to sympathize with those tears? Was you thinking about me when you laid up with my man? Did you consider me, when you decided that you was gonna be with him, and leave me out in the rain, literally?!”
Her chest heaved up and down, as she sniveled uncontrollably. “Have…have you ever thought about where we’d be if you would’ve actually been a mother to me?”
I snickered to myself. That big bitch just wouldn’t quit. She had zero accountability, acting like the world owed her something. Everything was always about her. Somebody did something to her, so she had the right to fuck her mama’s man? Somehow, everything was forced upon her, and was never her fault. Like my anguish and tears didn’t count for nothing. Like I didn’t lose something every time she’d dealt with a man of mine. Like what I was going through didn’t fucking matter. Shit, maybe in her world, I didn’t matter. That was cool, though, because she didn’t have to matter to me, either, and I’d show her exactly how much I really didn’t give a fuck about her.
“You know what? I’ma do what I should’ve first done when I found out that I was pregnant with your ass. That would’ve saved us all some trouble. I didn’t do it then, but I got you now. You terminated, bitch,” I gritted, as I closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger.
BLOW!
Omari
I had all my boys pissed at me. We’d just wrapped up a session at the studio, however they wanted to hang out, and hit up the strip club. I was the only one who wasn’t with it. Not that I didn’t like to see a fat ass just like the next man, but I was in the mood to see an ole humongous, juicy booty that belonged
strictly to me. So, I’d dipped out, while they were all cussing me out.
For some reason, I had this unusually strong urge to head home. Mya and the baby had been heavily on my mind, since I’d left the crib earlier that day. So, the plan was to stay in, and have a little family time, before it was time to lay it down, and knock that pussy out the frame.
I wondered if Mya had cooked anything, as I exited off the elevator once it reached my floor. I was casually moseying down the long hallway, when I noticed Mya headed towards me with Lil’ Omari on her hip. For some reason, his little ass was screaming at the top of his lungs.
I smiled. “Why you playing with me, staggering all over the place with my baby in your arms?”
My smile gradually faded, as I noticed the blood stained on the side of her shirt, and all over my baby’s diaper. I rushed over to them, catching her just before she collapsed on the floor.
“Get the baby,” she whispered to me, before she closed her eyes, as I laid her on her back.
“Wha…what the fuck?” I panicked as I noticed more blood, when I pulled my baby back. Frantically, I checked him for any wounds, and thankfully there were none. Gazing down at Mya’s shirt, I noticed the source of all the blood. There was a sizable hole on her side. “Ba…baby, tell me what happened,” I pleaded.
“My…my mama shot meeeee,” she blubbered.
“Wh…what?” I felt my heart drop down underneath my feet. “You bee…you been shot?”
She slowly nodded, with her eyes closed.
“No, no, no, My, baby, open your eyes for me, baby. Okay.”
She lifted her eyes, and I could tell that she was weak, as she struggled to keep them open. “Take…take care of our baby,” she instructed, as tears slipped from her eyes. “Love him like…we were never loved.”
“Nah, nah. Mya, stop talking like that. You aint going nowhere,” my lips quivered, as I struggled to keep it together. With trembling hands, I lifted my phone, and called 911. “I need an ambulance to 1700 South Post Oak. My girlfriend has been shot. We’re on the twelfth floor.”
By the time, I’d ended the call, Mya’s eyes were closed again. My baby was still bawling, but I was frozen stiff. I stared at her, hoping to see her chest rise and fall, but there was nothing. She wasn’t moving.
After a few seconds, I snapped out of my trance, and began trying to shake her awake. “Mya, get up. Stop playing!” my shoulders shook, before I broke down into inconsolable sobs. “Myaaaaaaa! Somebody help meeee! Please somebody help meee!” I hugged her lifeless body, praying that she’d somehow hug me back, knowing right then that she’d lied to me. She’d promised that she’d never leave me again, we were gonna ride this wave together, but she was gone.
Epilogue
Six months later…
Omari
“Remember when yall was little?” I spoke into the mic in front of a huge crowd. “And you was told not to do something?”
“Yesss!” the crowd boasted.
I nodded, before I began. “You ever wanted something that was never meant to be touched? It looked pretty nice in its casing, but you wanted to take it and clutch. Do some shit that your mama would probably whup your ass about? Your sisters and brothers tell you not to do it, but you still take that route. Wanting what you want, no matter the fucking repercussions. They ask you for peace, but you somehow the one that always get to busting. They say having a hard head makes for a soft ass. But you’ll deal with it later, cause right now you having a blast. Then when it comes down on you, you realize that you should’ve thought twice. Cause that shit was cool for the moment, but you aint about that life.” I recited a poem at the end of my show. “But dealing with her was a different story. I knew the consequences but chose to ignore it. Jumping over hurdles like a muthafucka, I went after it. Aint shame to say that I went out of my way to capture it. Sand bags even beat my back while I grabbed her. I aint really give a fuck cause I just had to have her. Niggas from every hood was gunning my way. Was down to take them all on, as long as she could stay. Nigga, I’m from the H where swangas are everythang. And I still gave her those keys, letting her swang lane to lane…and that’s when I knew that it was love.”
Everybody clapped, as I stepped off the stage. Reciting a freestyle poem at the end of a show had become a ritual for me, and it was kind of therapeutic. The past six months had been hard as fuck, and I needed any relief I could get.
“Say, nigga, you falling off in the club with us?” Melo questioned, as I headed back to my dressing room.
“Nah, man, I’m good.”
He frowned. “You sure? It might do you some good.”
“Nah, I’m straight. I’ma just head back to the hotel.”
“This nigga be killing me with that depressing shit,” he grumbled, and I didn’t bother responding to him.
Stepping into my little room, I closed the door behind me, wanting privacy. Sitting down in a chair, I pulled out my cell. Scrolling through my texts, I noticed that I had received several pictures of Lil’ Omari. His little bad ass was walking in my Jordans, wearing nothing but a pamper. I chuckled, as I felt like I was staring back at myself. He was my twin, and my fucking heart. Seeing his pictures, though, just made me more home sick.
Deciding to go through my photo gallery, I sifted through pictures, until I came across one of his mama’s photos. She was smiling from ear to ear, while she was pregnant with Lil’ Omari. A wave a sadness washed over me, as I longed for her to be there with me.
While I was lost in my thoughts, my phone rang, dragging me back to reality. Forcing myself to smile, I answered the video call.
“Dada, I wanna eat-eat,” Lil Omari told me with his head all in the camera.
“Okay. You want daddy to bring you something?” I asked him.
“I want candy.”
“Okay. I miss you. You miss me?”
“Yeah!” he answered excitedly.
“You love me?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay, that’s enough.” The camera was pulled off Lil’ Omari’s face. “This boy loves acting like he’s the only one who misses you.”
I chuckled. “You miss daddy too?”
“Of course,” she sucked her teeth. “But what’s wrong with you? I can hear it in your voice. Something aint right.”
I shook my head, as tucked my lips into my mouth. “Nothing, man. I’m just in my feelings a tad bit.”
“Why?”
“Cause. You aint here.”
She blushed. “Well, I could’ve been there if you knew how to keep it in your pants.” She panned the camera over her protruding belly. She was seven months pregnant with what we called our miracle baby, which was why we were naming her Miracle. She’d managed to stay alive, even after her mama had been shot, and hospitalized. Of course, we didn’t learn about her until then, but our baby girl was an undeniable survivor.
I snickered. “You know I can’t help myself.”
“I know,” she breathed. “But yeah, I got a subpoena in the mail today.”
“For Meeka’s trial?” I guessed.
“Yep.”
“Well, how you feel about it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just ready for this all to be over.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Me too.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t trying to fight it. She need to just take the twenty years they offered her, and be done with it. I can’t believe she’s pulling that self-defense bullshit.”
“Man, don’t even worry about it. They aint finna let her ass off that easily, and if they did she’d never live to see another day, because I promise that I’d murk her ass on the spot.”
“I know, but I hope that it don’t come to that.”
I nodded. “Me either.”
“Yeah, anyway, I want you to cheer up, while you’re out there. I know that you were used to me being on the road with you, but you’ll be back home before you know it.”
I sighed heavily. “I kn
ow. I just can’t wait. That’s all.”
She smiled. “Boy, you be acting like you really love me and shit.”
“Girl, stop playing with me. You know I love your ass. Down to a fault. And even when it’s muthafuckin’ wrong.”
Even When It's Wrong Page 43
