Niyah gasped, and I held my breath.
“From who?” Niyah asked.
“One of the other bartenders that work at the club was at the beauty shop today running her mouth about what went down last night, and my sister happened to be there.”
“Great,” I moaned, shaking my head. “The whole city knows what happened.”
“What she say?” Niyah asked, and I regretted it. I wasn’t ready to hear this. I couldn’t take it.
Iyana paused and gave me a sympathetic look.
I sighed and told her, “Just tell me.” I knew it would hurt me, possibly even kill me by ripping the rest of my heart out of my chest. But I needed to know.
Reluctantly, Iyana continued to put the dirt on top of my grave. “Her name is Brandi. They’ve been fucking around for like six months and—”
Niyah gasped again before I could even verbally respond, but quietly, I was unraveling on the inside even more.
“And they’re engaged already?!” Niyah snapped.
Iyana’s eyes once again reluctantly caught mine. “Yeah. Banks proposed to her the day after he gave you the ring, Remi.” My head fell into my hands as her words continued to bury me alive. “He met her at The Dating Game when she started bartending there. And… And… She’s pregnant.”
My heart broke and my stomach turned as I listened to everything Iyana was saying. He hadn’t given me a ring in ten years, but this bitch showed up and in six months she won his heart and was pregnant with his child. Images of her perfect body flooded my mind. Was that what had won his heart? Was I too fat to deserve his commitment, loyalty, or hand in marriage?
I jumped up from the couch and ran for the bathroom. I made it just in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
TRUE
“So…” my mother said hesitantly. “How did he take it?”
Her question made me cringe as I recalled Coop’s anger just a few hours ago. “Not well.” I avoided her eyes as I felt her staring at me from across the booth in the Olive Garden.
“You told him everything?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
I swallowed hard, answering, “Yes.” I dropped my fork in my chicken Alfredo. I didn’t even know why I had ordered it. I knew I needed to eat since I hadn’t done so all day. But no matter my stomach pangs, I didn’t have an appetite.
Satisfaction left my mother’s body in a huge sigh of relief. She put her fork down in her nearly-devoured salad and sat back. “Well, thank God. Finally.”
My eyes rolled slightly. “Glad you’re happy that I told him, because he’s not, and neither am I.”
“Of course, he’s not. You’re having his baby when you’re… You’re…” She paused and shook her head, unable to finish her sentence.
“Dying,” I whispered, finishing it for her.
She visibly cringed. Her eyes darted at Joy, but I had already known that she was too deep in the cartoon app on my phone to had have heard me.
“Don’t say it like that,” my mother hissed.
I shook my head, holding it with the tips of my fingers. “Mama, that’s what’s happening. I’m dying. You can say it.”
“I don’t want to.”
I had come to grips with this long before my mother ever would. She most likely would never accept my fate. I had already come to terms with it while I was sure my mother would still be waiting for a miracle even as I took my last breath. She had never overcome my stepfather’s death. She was still hurting and mourning him. She had yet to recover. And now she was going to have to bury the only other person in her life close to her besides her grandchild. She didn’t want to face it. When she had to, it was like this; with reluctance and a false sense of reality.
“C’mon on, Ma. Let’s go,” I insisted as I pushed the pasta away from me.
Concerned, she asked, “You’re not feeling well?”
“No.”
On bad days, the tumor made me feel weakness, world-stopping nausea, and headaches beyond imagination. But, today, I was sadly using my illness as a sympathy card to get out of a very uncomfortable conversation.
My mother paid the bill while I gathered Joy and her things. As she signed the credit card receipt, I stood and brought Joy out of the booth.
It had been a long day. Dealing with Coop’s rejection was hard, but dealing with my mother’s inability to face reality was making this all so much harder.
She must have seen it on my face because before walking away from the table, she grabbed my hand and smiled into my eyes. “I’m sorry. This is just really, really hard, True.”
“I know,” I agreed, watching the oh-so familiar tears filling her eyes. “I’m trying to make this as easy for you as possible.”
Her lips pressed together tightly as she shook her head. “You’re so worried about me, when this is about you.”
“Mama, I’ll be gone before you, so nothing is about me. I won’t be here. This is about you and Joy. This is why I am having this baby. I want you to have as much of me here to remember me by.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Thank you. I’m old and—”
“You are not old,” I insisted. My mama was only sixteen years my senior, but she swore she was an old lady.
“Yes, I am.” She weakly smiled. “But if this is what you want to do, then I will raise that baby to that best of my ability. Thank you for giving me this gift.”
I reached up and wiped her lone tear away.
“So…” She paused and rubbed my stomach with a weak smile. “How many months are you?”
Relieved that she was finally on board, I smiled, “Almost two months.”
“I hope it’s a boy.” The smile on her face was finally free from sadness. I stood admiring it. She caught me and snatched me into an embrace. Right there in the middle of the restaurant she stood holding me so tight. Many people watched us oddly, once the embrace started to last longer than normal. She held me as if it were last time, and soon, it would be.
So, I let her.
9
Coop
-TWO MONTHS LATER-
I was leaving an after-hours spot alone. At four in the morning, it was already a hot and sticky, July morning. Seventy-fifth Street was abandoned. The only souls floating in the darkness were the lost ones who were either homeless, high, or both. Yet, I was lost too. Since True had told me her truth, I had been lost, not knowing what the fuck to do or how to deal. I cared about True more than I wanted to. I wondered about my child she was carrying in her womb, but I was too much of a pussy to reach out to her because I couldn’t stand having that conversation again; the one about her dying.
As my life had been for the last two months, I was once again drunk off my ass. I had spent the last several weeks trying to mask the pain of losing someone I loved with 1738. This was the very reason why I had been staying clear of giving a fuck about anyone since the moment I realized there was no one to give a fuck about me when I was a shorty. Shit, the pain of losing parents I had never met had hurt so deeply that I wasn’t trying to even care about another person. But two people had climbed over that wall; Rakim and True.
I hadn’t lost Rakim, though. He had surprisingly survived his gunshot wound. But nearly losing him and learning that True was dying on the same day had been devastating enough to cure me from ever getting close to another human being again. Though I hadn’t lost him, it had taken him two months to start speaking again. Since the shooting, the attempts on my life had ceased. I’d spent a week looking for Prince before I heard he had taken Issa and left Chicago. He was a punk, but that motherfucker wasn’t stupid.
I had lost True, however. We hadn’t spoken to one another since the day I kicked her out of my crib. Before Rakim got shot, I had been contemplating whether I was right or wrong. But, after watching Rakim take breaths we thought would be his last, I knew I had to let True go. There was no way that I could stand being around her knowing she was dying and I would lose her. I had to walk away from her. Two months late
r, I was still pissed that she had played me like that; lying with me and watching me fall for her, knowing she was dying. I had been a game to her, some fun for her to enjoy before she died.
I wanted nothing more than to be there for my child, but, despite my anger, I was still feeling True. Therefore, there was no way that I could watch yet another loved one leave me.
Not again.
My fear was outweighing my need to be a father, and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the fear so that I could be there for my child. Suddenly, I had new compassion for the parents that I never knew. Before now, I never considered their situations when I was born, the reasons why they hadn’t been there for me. Maybe they had been in situations like I was now; their hands tied, too afraid to be parents.
“Fuck her,” I spewed as I walked to my ride. I faulted True for putting me in this position with my unborn child.
However, no matter how much hate grew in my heart for True playing me like that, there was still love in my heart for her that I forced myself to ignore. But, if I had to be honest, I missed shorty like I would miss my next breath.
“You’re leaving so soon?”
Caught off guard, I jumped a bit and spun around. My guard was instantly down when my eyes landed on a pair of beautiful hazel eyes. I had heard about black women with light eyes, but I had never seen one before in real life. Baby girl was chocolate with eyes as bronze as a setting sun. Her curves could be seen even in the darkness. She was built just liked I liked my women; tall and thick. Her curves weren’t natural at all though. Shorty had to have ass and hips that were over fifty inches in width. But her waist was extremely tiny, her stomach was flat, and her breasts were perky. She had definitely gone to the Dominican Republic and got her body done. Every woman returned from the island with the same look, and shorty had that signature body. I preferred natural curves, but for a quick nut, I was down for whatever. Her hair was from overseas as well. It was long, curly, and draped down to her ass. The curls fell into her amber face, cascading over slanted eyes that were heavily outlined with those expensive mink lashes that I often overheard women talking about.
I looked her up and down slowly. My drunken eyes took in her spandex tube top dress tightly covering her curves and the gold, Louie sandals wrapped around her pretty, feet.
“Aye, shorty,” I said, licking my lips. “You shouldn’t be out here so late alone.”
TRUE
“I got you, baby. Let it all out.”
I could feel my mother pressing a cold towel on the back of my neck as the contents of my stomach expelled into the toilet.
I was now going on four months pregnant and feeling every single, solitary prenatal symptom. Yet, because of the chemo treatments I’d undergone, I was used to nausea and throwing up. Vomiting was like a walk in the park at this point. Unfortunately, the symptoms of pregnancy were much like the symptoms of my brain tumor, so my mother had been a worry wart for the past two months. However, because of my pregnancy, I had been getting brain scans on a regular basis to monitor the tumor’s growth. Since becoming pregnant, it hadn’t increased in size.
Finally finished, I sat back on my butt on the cold tile floor. My mother handed me a towel to wipe my mouth. After doing so, I stood slowly and walked over to the sink.
“You okay?” my mother asked.
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“I’ll go get some breakfast started for Joy.”
“Thank you.”
As she left, I looked at my small pudge that had started to protrude. I had managed to gain a few more pounds, but that pudge was still the biggest thing on my body.
After brushing my teeth, I slipped on a robe and left the bathroom. I prepared myself to face the day. Mentally, I had prepared myself to die, but I was in no way ready for this. I had decided to have this baby regardless of how Coop felt, but I had not prepared myself for him to be totally out of the picture. I hadn’t heard from him since he kicked me out. I refused to call him because I did not blame him for deciding not to be a part of this. Shit, I was a part of this and didn’t want to be so how could I expect him to? I had selfishly made this decision, so it was his right to choose not to be involved. However, despite his hardcore, mean demeanor, I knew Coop cared for me. I knew there was a soft spot for me in his heart somewhere. I hoped it would eventually bring him to be able to be a part of this baby’s life, but so far, no luck.
Just then, the doorbell rang. So, I hurried out of the bathroom.
“I’ll get it, Ma!” I shouted toward the kitchen where I could smell bacon frying.
“Good morning, Mommyyyy!” Joy sang from the floor in front of the TV.
“Good morning, baby. Scoot back. Why are you sitting so close?” Just then I peered through the peephole. Imagine my surprise when I saw Jameel standing on the other side. “What the hell?” I snatched the door open, glaring through the small opening that I peered out of. “What the fuck do you…”
This motherfucker barged into the house like he still lived there.
“Jameel!” I shrieked. “What the hell?!”
“Where is my daughter?”
I was on his heels as he charged through the house towards Joy. I ran past him and scooped her up from the floor.
“Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not taking my daughter!”
Jameel lunged at me. He grabbed Joy’s tiny waist and attempted to rip her from my arms.
“No! Let her go!” I screamed as Joy started crying. We were playing tug of war with our own daughter. “Let her go, Jameel!”
“Give her to me!” he hissed.
Using all of the strength I had, I clung to Joy with one hand, reached for Jameel’s face with the other one, and swung. As I made contact, he stumbled back, holding his face.
My mother came running out of the kitchen. But when she saw Jameel, she quickly turned around and went back inside.
I wondered why she was running away as Jameel spewed, “This is illegal. You can’t keep my daughter from me.”
Clinging to Joy, I spat, “I don’t trust you! You didn’t want her when we divorced. Why do you want her now? You may take her and never bring her back. I don’t have the type of time to take that chance.”
“You can’t do anything for her. She needs a parent that can raise her.” His hostile words ejected at me through his disgusted frown.
“Does she look like she needs anything to you?!” I challenged.
“I want full custody of her.”
I laughed. “Are you crazy?! That’s why you can’t have my child! You want full custody of your money. That’s what you want!”
He was glaring into my face so closely that I could feel the rage coming off of his skin. “You’re not a good role model. You’ve got a disease that’s killing you, yet you’re still out here fucking and getting pregnant.”
A smile crept on my face as my eyebrow rose. “Jealous?” I taunted him. “Why do you give a care anyway? You left me, remember?”
His finger jabbed towards my face. “I left you, not her. Not my daughter.”
Suddenly, a vision of my mother running from the kitchen with a knife grabbed my attention. When my eyebrows rose, Jameel spun around to see what I was looking at. We both stared at the fire in my mother’s eyes as she charged towards Jameel with the butcher knife in midair.
“Mama, no!” I shrieked as I ran in front of Jameel. Suddenly, all of that bite he’d had was gone. He cowered behind me like a bitch. He deserved to die way more than I did. Yet, I was dying while he was still here to wreak havoc on me and the next woman he chose to terrorize once I was cold and in the ground.
However, I knew my mother’s potential. I knew her life before my stepfather had come along and whisked her away out of the projects on his white horse. I’d heard the stories of her savagery. And I needed my mother here to take care of my children, not in prison.
She stopped midstride, nostrils flaring. “Move, True.”
“No, Ma. He’s not worth it,” I p
leaded with her.
Still standing behind me like a punk, he threatened, “I’m calling the police on you bitches. My daughter doesn’t need to be around this shit.”
“Get the fuck out!” my mother shouted as she ran towards us.
I jumped out of the way to protect Joy, who was clinging to me.
I watched, fearfully as my mother ran up on Jameel and held the knife to his neck. The tip of the blade made an indention in his throat, and he cringed, standing perfectly still. “I suggest you leave, motherfucker. I don’t feel like I have shit to lose at this point in my life. I’ll do time when it comes to defending my babies. Now, get the fuck out.”
Biting down on his lip, Jameel glared between Joy and my mother as if he were considering risking it all. “I’m going to get full custody of my daughter. True is dying, and you’re not her biological parent. I’m her father. I have a right to have my daughter.”
My mother’s eyes turned into angry slits. A demented fire was dancing in her orbs. She pressed the knife deeper, causing his hands to shoot up in surrender. “A’ight, a’ight,” he chanted. “I’m out.”
He started to walk slowly towards the door. When he saw that my mother was allowing him to leave without slitting his neck open, he started to walk faster until he disappeared. My mother jogged towards the door, slammed it shut, and locked it tight.
“Motherfucker,” she cursed.
I collapsed on the couch with tears in my eyes. I rarely let my condition bring me to tears until it came to my mother and Joy.
“Mama, you can’t let him get my baby,” I cried.
That was my biggest fear, not being here to protect Joy from Jameel. He had never turned his aggression towards her, but I wondered the possibility once I wasn’t here to be his punching bag. I already felt so much guilt for not being there for her eighth-grade graduation, the onset of her period, her prom, or her first boyfriend. But the guilt of not being here to protect her against evil was heartbreaking.
When My Soul Met A Thug Page 10
