by Briana Cole
“I’m happy,” I said with a smile. “Jahmad is coming over later so we can work things out. I’ll probably move on back in with him.” Granted, that was wishful thinking, but I was being optimistic. Speaking things into existence, like my father would say.
The welcoming scent of coffee beans filled the air. Hinges squeaked on opening and closing cabinets and drawers as my dad went about taking out his mug, sugar, and spoon.
“I’m praying for you two,” he said. “You know, you both together with that grandboy of mine makes my heart smile. Now once you two get married, I can die a happy man.”
“Stop that, Daddy. You know I don’t want to hear you saying anything about dying.”
“I meant that figuratively, baby girl. You know I’m not going anywhere.” He poured the coffee in the mug and turned to kiss us both. The fresh steam from his cup warmed my cheeks.
I then noticed he wasn’t wearing his pajamas but some slacks and a button-up. “Where are you headed?”
“Just need to go to the church for a bit,” he said. “Get some paperwork.”
I frowned my disapproval. My mom had been adamant on not letting him return to the church, at least not alone. But she’d left about an hour ago to run some errands, so she certainly wasn’t here to object.
Dad chuckled at my expression, obviously reading my thoughts. “I’m okay, baby girl. I won’t be long. Besides, you see I’m completely fine.”
That much was true, but I still felt uneasy. “Let me just call Mama and let her know.”
“I don’t need your mother’s permission to do anything,” he said, puffing out his chest. “There is nothing wrong with me going to the church that I oversee. I’m not scared of your mother.”
He strolled past me toward the door, then stopped and turned. “If she calls and asks, just tell her I went out to run some errands please, baby girl.”
I laughed. “I thought you’re not scared of her?”
“I’m not,” he said. “But I’m no fool either.”
* * *
Jahmad’s text came through at exactly 1:32 p.m. I’d been anxiously awaiting the notification and I eagerly opened the message to read it. “4:00,” was all it read. Good. That was all I needed.
I’d already gone shopping and picked up cute little matching outfits for Jamaal and me, distressed white jeans with a royal blue top. He’d been fed, burped, and I took care to change him even when his diaper was clean for fear his little Pampers would flood onto his nice pants. I had to make sure we looked the part, the family Jahmad was missing and longing for.
At thirty minutes until four, I changed Jamaal one last time and laid him on his baby gym floor mat. When he started hollering, I immediately picked him up. “Daddy’s coming,” I whispered in his ear. As if he understood, his little cries subsided into tiny whimpers. I grinned at the calming reaction. “I know. I miss him too.”
The doorbell had both of our heads whipping in the direction of the front door. I waited a brief moment before making my way over, not wanting to appear too anxious. Another ring filled the empty house, this time a little longer. Taking a breath, I clicked the locks out of place and swung the door open.
I’m sure shock registered all over my face as I stared at the visitor. Not Jahmad at all. What the entire hell was she doing here?
CeeCee didn’t bother waiting for an invitation, just stepped past me into the living room. I didn’t know what was more dominant, her perfume or her attitude, so clearly expressed by the scowl on her face as she looked first around the room, then to Jamaal in my arms, and finally at me.
“Listen, I’m going to make this quick,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “I know what you’re trying to do and that shit ain’t going to work.”
I rolled my eyes. Whatever she thought I was trying to do, I would rather her keep thinking it than give her the satisfaction of knowing I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. Whatever it was, it was obviously pissing her off.
“You need to back off,” she went on. “Stop using that damn baby to get to Jay. He won’t fall for it.”
“Oh, you mean his son?”
CeeCee smirked. “Don’t even try that shit. Jay already told me the baby is not his, so your cards are up. I mean that was real cute how you tried to pass a child off as his. Desperate, but cute. But now that he knows, you have nothing left. So get the hell over it.”
It was obviously a blessing I was holding Jamaal because otherwise I would’ve knocked the bitch backward off her little stilettos. My grin was just as condescending. “So if it’s over, why are you here?” I taunted. “Seems to me you feel threatened because you think that maybe, just maybe Jahmad still loves me. And you’re afraid.”
CeeCee flicked her hand at my comment, as if she were waving away a pesky fly. “Jahmad has been keeping me informed of y’all’s issues. Why do you think I never went back to Texas? He asked me to stay here and wait for him until he was ready to take that promotion. Now he can come back to me.”
I struggled to wipe away the surprise on my face. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
“Hey,” she added with a pitiful smile at Jamaal. “At least you still have your child, so you won’t be totally alone. And Jahmad,” —she lifted her hand to her own flat stomach—“well, he has ours. So it’s a win-win.”
Nausea settled in the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly felt so weak I had to brace against the wall so I wouldn’t drop my baby. CeeCee breezed back out the front door, leaving it open wide for me to see her hips sashaying toward a white Infiniti truck. So this had been the bitch stalking me? This whole time? Not Tina, but CeeCee? Damn.
She had parked at the end of the driveway so she hadn’t quite pulled off when Jahmad’s truck pulled up. I watched curiously. I wondered if any of her story had validity. I guessed this would show it.
Jahmad climbed from his truck and immediately started for CeeCee’s vehicle as she stepped back out of the driver’s side. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they appeared to be yelling and clearly talking about me with the way they both were gesturing wildly in the direction of my house. Good. That’s what the hoe got.
Jahmad glanced up and briefly his eyes met mine. I quickly scurried to close the door so I could continue watching from the privacy of a window. JayJay began to feel warm and heavy on my hip so I switched sides, not daring to put him down and step away from the action. I wanted to see Jahmad put this bitch in her place.
By the time I pulled back the curtains in the living room, CeeCee was back in her car, shielded in the tinted glass. Jahmad was leaning on the door. The two seemed much calmer, which had my panic slightly rising. What were they talking about so cool and composed?
The warm, wet sensation, now followed by a stench, had traveled to my other side, and I looked down. Pee and poopoo seeped from Jamaal’s white pants and had transferred onto not one but both of my sides from where I had him perched on each hip. The smell was enough to have me gag as yellow and brown splotches stained the white denim fabric.
“Dammit, Jay!” Irritation had the words dripping from my lips before I had time to stop them, coincidentally right when Jahmad pushed open the front door. Silence, then Jamaal erupted into fitful sobs.
I wanted to cry right along with him. I know I looked and smelled a hot shitty mess, not at all the impression I wanted to give Jahmad when seeing him again for the first time. My own tears seeped from my eyes, fat, sloppy rolls that streaked makeup down my cheeks.
“What happened?” Any trace of apathy was gone from Jahmad’s voice, now replaced with compassion. Genuine and utter compassion. That made me cry harder. Damn, I missed this man.
He came forward, and gentle hands took Jamaal from my arms. That was all the baby needed, because he quickly stopped crying and immediately reached for him with soft whines.
“Whoa there, little man.” Jahmad held the baby out in front with extended arms. Jamaal’s little feet dangled, and the shit that collected in
the seat of his pants and ran down his legs made it obvious those clothes were completely useless. It was also obvious he didn’t have a shred of diaper on his ass.
Jahmad turned JayJay around so he could see, clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Where is his diaper?” he asked. “Why you got him out here balls-free, pissing and shitting everywhere?”
I threw up my hands. “I guess I didn’t put the diaper on tight enough when I changed him last,” I admitted, swiping the tears from my damp face. “I’m sorry, I was waiting on you, and I—”
“Just go get cleaned up,” Jahmad suggested, his tone now gentle. “I’ll handle Jamaal.”
The situation was far from humorous, but I felt the chuckle bubble up in my throat before spilling out to full-blown laughter. Two pairs of eyes landed on me, and I’m sure I looked as ridiculous as I felt.
Jahmad shook his head. “What?”
“I look like shit,” I said for lack of anything else.
He nodded. “Damn sure do. And you smell like it too.”
I don’t know why, but that little snide-ass joke comforted my heart. He might as well have told me he loved me.
I only wore a towel as I journeyed back in my room, my body still wet from the shower. Jahmad was seated on my bed with a now clean Jamaal wrapped in a red onesie and blanket, a bottle to his lips.
I smirked, watching him for a minute. “You would think he’s had enough milk.” I felt Jahmad’s eyes on me as I leaned over to kiss the baby’s forehead. “Mommy is sorry for yelling, baby.” And because I knew Jahmad was still watching, I took my time bending and squatting at the dresser, pretending to look for clothes to put on.
“I’ll meet you back up front,” he said suddenly, almost as if he was frustrated. He rose and left the room.
More to prolong the inevitable, I took my time changing into a t-shirt and some baby shorts. By that time, Jamaal was nodding off, so I picked him up and rocked him the rest of the way to sleep. I then carried him in my parents’ room, placed him in his crib, and mentally prepared myself for the war I knew was waiting for me.
Jahmad slipped his phone in his pocket as I reentered the living room and joined him on the couch. “Where are your folks?” he asked.
“They went out earlier. Running some errands and handling church business.”
“My fault about CeeCee.” He nodded toward the door. “I didn’t know she was coming over here. Hell, I didn’t even know she knew where you stayed.”
“She’s been stalking me, Jahmad,” I said. Now was as good a time as any to play the sympathy card. Especially if what she had said was true and they really were back together. “She came in here with all this bullshit about y’all, popping off at the mouth about Jamaal. I mean why is she even still here in Georgia?”
“I’ll talk to her,” Jahmad said simply. His voice held the tone of finality, like he was done with the topic, but no way could I let it go.
“She says she’s pregnant,” I whispered, studying his reaction. I should’ve known better. Jahmad had an out-of-this-world poker face, and I couldn’t tell if the revelation was true or if he even knew for that matter. He just kept his face blank and stared ahead. I thought about the sequence of events that had happened, leading up to the most recent. “She probably was the one that hurt Jamaal,” I mumbled.
I peered at Jahmad just in time to see his frown of disgust. “That’s real fucked up if you believe that shit, Kimera,” he snapped.
“I’m just saying, who else could have done it?”
“Maybe you need to stop blaming shit on everybody else and own up to the fact that you fucked up.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. JayJay was in there near dying on something, and what was your ass doing? Sleep. That’s some neglect for your ass.”
I was all the way on a hundred now. How could he even part his lips to say some shit like that to me? “You know what? Fuck you, Jahmad.” I spit out each word with every piece of rage that was now coursing through my body. I was hurt, and shaking at the revelation that something like that would even cross his mind. I collapsed on the sofa, willing the tears away that were threatening to fall. Not to mention my head was throbbing with such force it was almost making me nauseated.
“I didn’t mean that,” Jahmad finally spoke up again, breaking our strained silence. “That was fucked up for me to say.”
You damn right was what I wanted to say but didn’t. I just nodded in response. Then I thought about the question that had been sitting on my heart. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “Are you going back to Texas?” I whispered. At first, I wasn’t even sure he heard me, but he leaned forward and rubbed his face. He looked as stressed as I felt, that was for damn sure.
“Probably so.”
Those two words felt like a knife to the gut. I didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. The bitch had been right. Whether she was having his baby or not, perhaps she could’ve been lying to add insult to injury. But hell, even that paled in comparison to right now. Bottom line, she was in Texas, and he was going back. And leaving me and Jamaal.
“I’ve tried to think about this from every perspective,” Jahmad mumbled, almost to himself. “Yours, mine, Jamaal’s. I can’t see anything other than your lies and deceit.”
I shook my head. “Jay, no. It’s not like that.”
“You told me he was mine, Kimera,” he countered through clenched teeth. “You let me believe it. Not once did you say it could be a possibility otherwise. That shit is foul, and I can’t be with a woman that would do some conniving shit like that. Not just to me but to her child.” He turned disgusted eyes to me, and I felt like shit, again.
“Jahmad, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I just wanted—needed you to be. I—we love you.” I chanced reaching out to touch his arm, not surprised when he snatched it back. “We need you, Jahmad. Please don’t do this to us.”
“Do what?” he snapped. “Not let you manipulate me? Not let you trap me?”
The tears had started flowing again, and I let them, freely. “You are his father, Jahmad. What difference does all that other shit make? You saw how he acted when you came in the door?”
“Don’t—”
“That’s what matters!”
“Then why did you take the money, then?”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. I really didn’t even have an answer for that. “Because I was stupid,” I blurted out, my voice cracking. “Because part of me felt that man owed me for everything he put me through, so I was willing to milk it. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for being a gold-digging bitch?”
The words slapped me, and I had to look at him to make sure they had actually come from his mouth. Damn, he had never taken it that far. As if he too realized that, he dropped his head and his shoulders went slack. “My fault,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
I sighed. “No, you’re right.” Silence. No rebuttal, no objection. Just silence.
Jahmad rose to his feet and pulled a folded envelope from his pocket. It had already been opened, the wrinkles and creases evident that he had been carrying it around for a minute.
“You snuck and got another DNA test done?”
I gasped, eyeing the return address on the envelope. I had forgotten all about that. I took it from him, my fingers trembling. The results. The real results were in. Jahmad knew the truth. “I should have told you,” I admitted. “But I didn’t believe those other results. The ones that you found. They weren’t true.”
When he didn’t say anything or move, I sighed and pulled the results from the envelope. And my heart shredded to pieces. I had lied again, and I waited for some cameramen for Maury to follow me off the stage while the audience roared in disbelief. Those first results had been true. Jahmad was not the father.
Chapter 18
“The property has just been reduced.” The real estate agent, I believe her name was Mandy, Melanie, or something, did a twirl in the middle of the living room, her
arm gesturing out toward the quaint space. “It’s the perfect size for you and little man here.” As if on cue, Jamaal tossed the woman a gummy smile from my hip.
I nodded, going over the house tour we’d just finished. It was smaller than I anticipated, but for some reason it seemed to fit. I didn’t need a ton of space. After all, it was just me and my son.
I moseyed to the kitchen area. It was slightly outdated so I would need to purchase new appliances, darker wood cabinets because the white was just too countrified for me, maybe do some painting. The backyard I wanted to fence in so I could sit out on the deck and watch JayJay play in the yard. Even upstairs, the two bedrooms and bonus room over the two-car garage needed some minor fixes. Nothing major, just some tender love and care. That was probably why the little home was pulling on my heart. It was a detached home and yes, a little fixer-upper. Hell, like me.
“If you want to think about putting an offer in—”
“I want to put an offer in,” I decided. No need to play, second-guess, and there was certainly nothing to sleep on. If I gave myself more time, I would just get my hopes up for no reason.
The woman clapped in delight. “I’ll go get the paperwork from the car. I should already give you a little sneaky congratulations. This is a very motivated seller.”
I nodded. “Well, good,” I said. “Because I am a very motivated buyer.”
The woman walked outside as my phone vibrated in my purse, for what I knew was the tenth time. Probably Adria again. I loved my best friend and I knew she was concerned, but I wasn’t in the mood right now. I was sure Jahmad had told Keon everything that had gone down yesterday, and Keon had blabbed to Adria. I was embarrassed, but more than that, I had fallen back into my state of depression.
He had left me yesterday. After he had given me the real test results, the ones that confirmed that no ounce of Jahmad Washington’s DNA flowed through my son’s body, that Jamaal was indeed another product of my marriage to Leo Owusu, he had left me there crying, crumbling, and begging on the floor of my parents’ living room. After a while, hell, I don’t even know how much time had passed, but a throbbing migraine had me peeling myself off the floor. After I downed some medicine, I packed my and Jamaal’s stuff and booked myself at a hotel. I couldn’t face my parents. I couldn’t face anyone. I had turned my phone off and just wanted to be alone.