“Did Aisha have a baby?”
“Well . . . yeah, but it ain’t mine. It’s some other dude’s,” he said defensively. He sounded like a kid who had gotten caught bringing a copy of Playboy to school.
“Some other dude’s?” I’m sad to say this, but it sounded like Scott had no intention of taking responsibility for his actions. “Did you use a condom?”
“Uhhhh . . . well, no.”
Dummy. How many times did I hear his father talk to him about strapping up and protecting himself? “Scott . . . it only takes one time to make a baby.”
“I know, but that baby don’t look nothing like me!” he said on the defense.
“Well, guess what? I think the baby looks a whole helluva lot like you.”
“That’s not my baby.”
“Scott, a mother knows her children and I know who that baby belongs to, and that’s you.” He was quiet. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
“No, because you’re not going to believe anything I say anyway, so what’s the point.” He blew out a long breath. I hated when he pouted. “So what she do, bring the baby over and tell you it’s mine?”
“Of course not, that would have been too easy. She did exactly what I said she did, she left the baby sitting in a car seat on the doorstep.” It still upset me every time I thought about that little girl sitting out on that porch waiting in the hot sun for someone to find her. What if we hadn’t come home that night?
“I’m not surprised. Some women just ain’t meant to be parents.”
“That same rule applies to men. You and her are too young and immature. I just wish you had talked to your father and I and saved me all that unnecessary stress. I’ve been a basket case all week.” Snooping around in Grant’s car, and did I mention I sniffed his draws? I even checked his credit card receipts. I had been so paranoid this week, it was a wonder he was still talking to me.
“So what are you planning to do with the baby?” Scott asked, breaking in to my thoughts.
I shook my head. “Right now the baby is with me, but I really don’t know what I’m going to do, considering your dad is pissed off about the whole thing.” I sighed and forced myself to remain calm before I got myself all upset again. As much as I have grown to love Sierra in just a few days, her presence in my household was causing a strain on my marriage. Especially after I told Grant we needed to postpone our vacation until the mess was straightened out. He literally hit the roof.“I think the three of us should sit down and talk. In the meantime, tell me where this girl lives so I can go by and talk to her mother.”
Scott hesitated. I was a second away from snapping on him when he finally spoke. “She lives in the Altgeld Gardens.”
Altgeld Gardens? What the hell was he doing in the projects messing with some low-income chick? I busted my ass so my son would have a good life, a college education, then meet a nice woman and settle down. Instead, he headed straight to the neighborhood I ran away from and found him a chick who apparently had no plans of raising her own child.
“You need to come home next weekend.”
“Okay,” he replied, although it was apparent he wasn’t happy about the idea. Well, too damn bad. I should have followed my first mind and made him spend the first part of the summer at home until football camp started, but no, I let him beg me into allowing him to take English over the summer so he could go ahead and move on campus early. Now I know it was just an excuse to run away from his problems, mainly, Sierra.
“Your butt better be here next weekend, or else . . .” I hung up, too angry to say anything further. Grant had been right all along. I babied that kid and to think I almost jeopardized my marriage, treating Grant like he was guilty of something my son had done. Sierra was my granddaughter, not my husband’s love child. I mumbled under my breath, cussing out Whitney for even thinking that Grant would ever do anything like that to me.
I looked down at my watched and realized it was time for me to go and pick up Sierra from Ms. Santiago’s home daycare. Thank goodness I was able to find someone at such short notice, but even still, daycare was expensive. Here I was spending a hundred dollars a week for child care, when Sierra’s mother was probably at home laid out on the couch watching soap operas while collecting a check. I also know she had to be getting food stamps. She wanted the money, but not the responsibility. Well, you got the wrong one, baby. Daycare isn’t cheap and neither is formula.
After I picked up Sierra, I headed toward the Bishop Ford Freeway to the address Scott gave me. Altgeld Gardens. Block 5. The same street where my grandmother lived until she passed away. After she was gone I had no reason to return to a poverty-stricken housing development that was far away from everything. We used to have to walk almost two miles just to go to the convenience store. It was a life that I’d rather forget. Thanks to Scott, I was back.
As I drew near 130th Street and Michigan Avenue, the main entrance into the development, I started to think that maybe I should have waited until Scott got home and we went over together. This was definitely not a place I wanted to be after dark. Besides, it was his child. He should be tracking down Sierra’s mother, not me. But then again, he was too self-centered to do the right thing. He probably would make things worse and she’ll be trying to take his narrow behind to court for child support. Nope. I was doing the right thing, going alone. Me and Sierra’s mama was going to have a long talk. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have a problem being a grandma and helping to raise my granddaughter, but Sierra’s mother needed to learn something about responsibilities that her own mother obviously hadn’t bothered to teach her. Based on the environment where she lived, she and the mother both were too busy hanging in the streets to take the time to raise a child.
That place was like a damn maze. I passed the housing unit twice before I realized I had the right address. It was a little misleading with that brand-new BMW parked out front. Luckily, I was able to park close to the door. Since I had no intention of going inside, I lowered the rear windows. Sierra was in her car seat sound asleep. I made sure the sun wasn’t in her eyes, then moved up to the front door of the unit and knocked.
“Someone answer the got damn door!” I heard someone on the other side of the door scream. Goodness, was this the type of environment my granddaughter had to live in? I was tempted to just leave and pretend I didn’t know where Sierra had come from, instead of returning her to this ghetto mess. Just thinking about her, I glanced over at the car making sure she was okay. I could see Sierra from where I was standing and she was fine.
I heard a lock turn and then the door swung open. There stood a big woman, wearing a pink rag tied around her head and beat-up house slippers on her feet. She turned up her nose and looked me up and down. “Can I help you?” From the look on her face, what she really wanted to say was, “What the hell you want?”
I painted on a fake smile. “Hello, I’m Noelle Gordon. Are you Aisha’s mother?” I hoped like hell she said no.
“It depends. What she do now?” she said with attitude.
She looked like she was ready for me to say one wrong word so she could dust the front stoop with my ass. I’ve never backed down from a fight, but this chick was big like an Amazon and a rhino combined. She had broad shoulders, titties for days, and wide hips. I might be a big girl, but this chick had me beat. “I think my son is the father of Aisha’s baby.”
She pushed the screen door open so fast I jumped out the way. “Oh yeah? So your son’s the little muthafucka who got her pregnant, then left for college?”
She better check herself. Like I said, I’m not scared, but I didn’t come here for that. I came to talk. One parent with another. “Let’s not start pointing the blame because it does take two to make a baby.”
She gave me a nasty look. “The only thing my daughter is guilty of is trusting your son. Aisha told ’im she was knocked up and he refused to claim my grandbaby.” Her hands were at her hips and her head was bobbing around on her thick neck.
&n
bsp; “Listen, I didn’t come here to argue.”
She folded her arms. “Then why did you come?”
“To talk to your daughter about my grandchild,” I said as calmly as possible.
She glanced over at my car. “Why isn’t your son here?”
“Because he’s away at school, but I already told him he better have his behind home next weekend. I’m hoping we can work out some kind of arrangement between us.”
She grinned. “Hey, we’ll take whatever help we can get. Pampers are expensive.” Goodness, she was homely with a big-ass forehead! I guess Sierra got her looks from my side of the family.
“Yes, they are expensive.” I smiled, feeling like we were finally getting somewhere. I glanced over at the car, then back at her. “Is your daughter here?”
“No, she’s at school,” she stated with a frown. “Even though she dropped out of school when she found out she was pregnant with my grandson, I made her go back to get her GED.”
Did she just say her daughter hadn’t graduated from high school? Goodness. Wait until I . . . hold up a moment. “A son? She had a girl.”
“I think I would know what my daughter had,” she said, rolling her neck. She then turned and moved inside the house, leaving me standing there.
Okay, something felt seriously wrong about all this. And it only got worse when she came back out onto the porch holding a baby in her arms.
“This is my grandson. If I need to take off his diaper so you can see what he’s working with, I will.”
I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary.” Anyone could look at that boy and tell he was related to her.
She sucked her teeth. “What’s your son’s name again?”
“Scott Gordon.”
“Gordon? This boy’s a Miller. Anyone can look at his big bunion head and tell who his daddy is.” With that she stepped inside and slammed the door in my face.
I left her place relieved, but no closer to finding Sierra’s mother. Scott said Aisha’s baby wasn’t his. I should have believed him. He also said he didn’t get anyone pregnant. I was starting to wonder if I should believe that as well. Once again I was wondering which of the men in my life was Sierra’s father. I shook my head trying to get rid of that thought. Grant wouldn’t do something like that to me. Or would he?
11
Tiffany
Ever since I refused to give Kimbel a blow job, things had been tense between us. I had even stayed two nights with Mama, hoping he would call and ask where the hell I was, only he didn’t even seem to notice that I wasn’t there lying in the bed beside him. Unfortunately, Mama was suspicious and wanted to know why I was back at home. No matter what I said, she swore up and down the reason I was home was because I had given him my virginity.
“You should have kept your legs closed!” she screamed while holding a bible over my head. After the second night, I couldn’t take it anymore and returned to Kimbel’s house. He had been in Tennessee the last two days trying to recruit a senior to come and play basketball for Northwestern. His plane was scheduled to land at six thirty. I left the salon determined to make things right with my man. As soon as I stepped into the house, I reached for my cell phone and sent a text message.
Meet me at home. I got a surprise for you.
I hit Send, then rushed into the shower. I was shaking and excited at the same time. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do, but if I wanted to save my relationship, I didn’t have a choice. I climbed out, dried off, and went into my room to put on the outfit I had bought yesterday at Frederick’s of Hollywood. Kimbel would be arriving shortly and I didn’t want him to get home before I was ready. Hopefully he was coming straight home, but after our last night together, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Monday night I decided not to stay at Mama’s and had come home, but I might as well have not been there because Kimbel moved to his side of the bed and acted like I wasn’t there. When I rolled over and started kissing on him, he told me to quit trying to start something that I couldn’t finish.
Well, tonight things were going to be different.
I rubbed mango-scented lotion and bath splash all over my body, then reached inside the bag and removed a short white silk gown. The only things holding it together were two ties on each side. Quickly, I slipped it over my head and pulled it down my curves. The sales clerk had suggested I buy it a size smaller for a perfect fit. I slipped into a pair of white high-heel slippers with the fur, then moved over to the full-length mirror and stared at the woman in front of me. Sexy. I not only looked naughty, but I felt that way as well. I couldn’t believe it. I liked it. I would never be considered skinny. Not with my thick hips and thighs, but my beautiful C-cups and small waist made me the perfect package. I strutted around the room pretending I was on the runway shaking my butt and popping my hips as I moved. I was looking too damn cute. “Baby, it’s on. You hear me. It’s on.”
Riiiinnng! Riiinnng!
The phone scared me to death. I leaned across the bed and reached for the cordless phone. I assumed it was Kimbel calling to let me know he was on his way. I almost choked when I heard my mother’s voice.
“Why are you out of breath?”
“No reason, Mama.”
“No reason? You better not be over there doing the nasty,” she hissed. “I already told you that man will have more respect for you if you make him wait.”
I looked down at the negligee I was wearing and suddenly felt so dirty. “I know, Mama.”
“Are you coming home tonight?”
“I . . . I decided to stay.”
“Why? I thought he was angry at you because you wouldn’t have sex with him?”
I don’t know why I even told Mama except that I had been so hurt by his behavior that I needed someone to talk to me who would understand. I should have known she would throw it back in my face.
“He’s my fiancé, Mama, and I came back where I belong.”
“That man isn’t going to be happy until he gets what he wants.”
“Mama—”
“What did I tell you about giving the milk away for free?”
I closed my eyes. Mama was right. I needed to hold on to my precious gift just a little longer. What in the world was I thinking? I slipped my feet out the heels and was about to take the sleazy costume off when I spotted a picture of Kimbel and me on the nightstand. We had taken it when we flew to Las Vegas for Valentine’s Day. It was the same night he had proposed.
“You need to come home. I told you moving in with that man was going to be a big mistake.”
Moving in with him was the first time in my life I had felt free from her controlling claws. It was also the only time I stood up to her. Kimbel had given me an ultimatum: either move in with him or it was over. I couldn’t blame him. He was tired of my eleven-o’clock curfew and having to live by Ruby Dee’s rules. I waited until Mama was at work and I had taken all the things I needed, then left her a note that I had moved out. She didn’t speak to me for almost a month.
“Mama, I got to go.”
“Are you coming home tonight?”
I heard the garage door opening. Kimbel was home! My heart was pounding loudly in my ears. I was so excited.
“Tiffany, you hear me talking to you? Are you coming home tonight or not?”
“No . . . Mama, I’m not. I’m sorry.”
There was a pause. “I knew you were going to turn out to be a slut just like your sister Melanie.”
I fought back tears at hearing my mother call me a slut. I wanted so badly to tell her the real reason why my sister had left home. It wasn’t because Melanie wanted to live with her boyfriend. It was because she couldn’t stand living in Mama’s house another day. But I didn’t say anything. I never do. Instead, I listened as my mother belittled my big sister.
I missed Melanie. She had a strength I never had. And no matter how often Mother beat her with an extension cord, she stayed true to herself and didn’t change who she was. Me, on th
e other hand, I did whatever it took to make Mama happy. Melanie wanted to join the military and see the world. The day she graduated she joined the Air Force and never looked back. Last time we spoke, she had made Sergeant. So often she tried to get me to leave and come live with her. But I couldn’t. I was too scared of what my mother would say and what she would do. Melanie wasn’t allowed to call or write our house. The last time I mentioned Melanie’s name, Mother punched me dead in the mouth. As far as she was concerned, her oldest daughter was dead to her. I eventually lost contact with Melanie altogether. I missed her so much. Often I wondered where she was and what she was doing with her life.
“I expect you to act like a lady and have your butt back in this house tonight,” she demanded.
“Mama, I love you, but I’ve got to live my own life.” She was going off when I hung up the phone. There would be hell to pay, but I would have to deal with that later. Mama had temporarily killed the mood, but I wasn’t going to let that woman stand in the way of my happiness. The last thing I wanted was to die a bitter old woman like her. I lit the scented candle on the dresser, then turned on Anthony Hamilton’s new CD. I needed him right now.
I heard Kimbel calling my name. “Tif, where you at?”
“Up here!”
I slipped my slippers back on my feet, then moved into the bathroom and waited until I heard him enter the bedroom before I sashayed into the room. I wanted to make an entrance. “Hey.”
Kimbel stopped midstride and stared over at me. I watched his eyes travel from my breasts to my toes. “Hey,” he murmured. He didn’t know what to say, which was good because neither did I.
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