Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 3

by Diamond D Johnson

  As we drove to the hospital, Denim talked through her contractions by calling her mama and letting her know that we were almost at the hospital. I could hear her mama yelling on the other end of the phone, and it sounded like she was saying they were almost there too.

  “The baby coming today, Mama?” Khari asked from the back seat.

  She was leaning over from the seat, so she could be closer to her mother when she asked.

  “I think so, baby. Sit back. We’re almost there,” Denim spoke through the pain.

  The drive to the hospital was supposed to take about eight minutes, but I got us there in about three and a half minutes because I was driving a cast member from Fast & Furious. I pulled right up into the emergency room valet area, and as I was parking, I could see Denim’s mother pulling her car right behind. She and Rylo rushed out to get to Denim. I helped Khari out of the backseat, and then I got the diaper bag and Denim’s bag from the back as well.

  By then, one of the nurses had come out and was pushing a wheelchair for Denim to get in.

  “Have a safe delivery,” I told her and prepared to walk away, so I could get in my car.

  Denim looked up at me with a little bit of hurt in her eyes because it must have registered to her that I was getting ready to leave.

  “What? You’re not staying?” she asked.

  “Stay for what? Denim, no disrespect, but that’s not my baby that you’re about to have. It’s somebody else’s. I did my part, which was bringing you here. I got my own pregnant wife at home. Be safe,” I told her, and then I pulled my daughter to me, kissed the top of her head, and let her know that I would pick her up in a couple of days. I said goodbye to Denim’s mother and to Rylo, and then I hopped in my ride.

  Five minutes of me being in the car and on the road, a text message came in from Normani. She was telling me not to stop and get her anything because she was in the kitchen and about to make something quick for us. The whole drive home, all I could think about was how this shit was supposed to play out between Denim and me once she had her new daughter. Shorty looked at me a few moments ago, and I saw the entitlement that rested in her eyes for her new child. It was almost as if she just knew I would stay at the hospital, in the room with her, while she pushed out another nigga’s baby.

  Khari was my responsibility, and although Rylo wasn’t mine, I helped out with her here and there because I didn’t want that little girl to think that Khari was more loved and more important than she was. Let me just stop thinking about this shit now because it would not do a damn thing but stress a nigga out.

  I eventually made it home and pulled my car into our driveway. It hit me that I needed to check the mailbox, so I walked down our driveway to the mailbox and pulled out the few envelopes of mail that were inside. It was one big envelope in particular that stood out to me. This was something that I had been waiting for weeks to receive. My hands shook as I looked down at something that I’d just needed to see in writing. Granted, I was sure this news had been true all along, but I wanted solid proof. No one even knew that I had done this and was waiting for the results, because I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of the shit.

  I didn’t want to live life, always thinking, what if? Like, what if there was a small chance? What I was holding in my hands were the DNA results for Khari and me. I swabbed her mouth a couple of weeks ago while she was sleeping, and I did the same thing to myself. With shaky hands, I held the mail and headed for the front door.

  Once inside, I made my way into the kitchen, where I could smell the good food that my wife was in there throwing down on. She was standing over the stove, wearing just one of my tops and a pair of her house shoes. I set the mail down on the island and looked on the stove to see what she was cooking. It was chicken quesadillas, one of my favorites. She kissed me on my lips and then turned around to look at the mail that I’d placed on the table.

  “I was hoping that my package from one of these children’s boutiques that I found on Instagram would have been delivered today. That’s the only thing that came?” my wife asked.

  “Yeah. Let the food cook. Come over here with me. I want to open something up with you,” I told her.

  She turned the oven down low because she had chicken tenderloins on the stove that she would cut up for the quesadillas. I picked up the envelope I needed and then grabbed my wife’s hand and walked her over to the table with me. I sat down on one of the chairs and pulled her down on my lap. She saw the sender’s address and the name on top of the envelope, and she turned sideways in my lap, so she could look over at me.

  “Baby, is this for Khari?” she asked.

  I nodded. My hands went for her stomach, and I rubbed it. Her soft hands rose and played in my hair.

  “Billionaire, you know this doesn’t matter, right? That little girl belongs to you regardless. She’s yours. We don’t have to look at this,” she told me, but I shook my head.

  “Shorty, I just want solid proof. Yeah, Denim pretty much told me that it ain’t no way in hell that Khari could be mine, but I want to know for sure. You the most important person in my life, so I want to look at it together. Open it,” I said and gave it to her.

  She sighed, pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and tucked it behind her ear. With shaky hands, she gently tore through the envelope and pulled out a couple of papers, but the most important piece of paper was on the top.

  “Baby, it’s a 0% chance that she’s yours,” Normani sadly told me.

  I saw it too because I was looking over her shoulder and reading the results myself. I nodded my head, cool with the results, but just really wanting to know.

  “And this is what I love about you. You had the chance to walk away from Khari. You could have been so mad with Denim that you could have chosen to not only punish Denim but punish Khari as well, but you didn’t. In fact, I think this situation hasn’t done anything but make you love her more. You’ll never hear me say anything to take your title of being Khari’s father away from you, because as her father is the only way that I see you.

  “That’ll be you and Denim’s decision on whether or not you want Khari to know the truth. I don’t see the point in telling her that her biological father is in prison, serving a life sentence. You are the best father that any child can ask for. Your kids are lucky, Billionaire. I’m lucky. I’m glad that I let you shoot my club up,” she joked, using one of my slangs.

  When Normani got pregnant, I was going around, telling people that I shot her club up, and she hated when I said that shit. I laughed and then pulled her into me and kissed her lips.

  “Before you say that I don’t be telling you shit and I’m keeping secrets, I had to rush Denim to the hospital. When I dropped Khari off, she was in the house, having back to back contractions. Her mama is there with her now, though, so she’s straight,” I told my wife.

  “As much as I can’t stand Denim, I wish her a healthy and safe delivery. You just make sure when it’s my turn in a couple of months, that you’re ready. I need you on point, baby,” Normani said.

  She stood up from my lap and went over to the stove, so she could check on the chicken. I laughed and stood up, then beat on my chest.

  “Oh, Ima be on point. I may just tell the doctor to get the fuck out of the way, and I’ll deliver my own damn baby,” I said to Normani.

  “Okay, Doctor Billion. All I ask is that you don’t pass out on me,” she said.

  I walked over and wrapped my arms around her waist then planted kisses on her neck.

  “Shorty, this ain’t my first rodeo. I done watched two babies get pushed out into this world. I watched you bleed on my dick, ma. If I ain’t pass out from that shit, I can’t pass out from nothing. Let’s just see if you can back up that shit you was saying about going natural.”

  She looked back at me like she was challenging me with her eyes.

  “And WHEN I go natural, what you going to get for me?” she asked.

  “Any fuckin’ thing you want!” I let her
know.

  “Okay. That extra space that you have in the basement that you were talking about turning into a gym… no. I don’t want it to be turned into a gym because I already told you that one of the garages can be our home gym. I want a she shack. You have your man cave, which is your something that you can escape to, and I want the same. You gotta pay for everything too. Anything I want for my she shack, you gotta pay for it, and nothing is off-limits. Deal?” she said.

  Leave it to a fuckin’ woman to go above and beyond with her shit. Like, why the fuck wouldn’t she just ask a nigga for a car? Normani knew damn well that I planned to have someone build me a nice ass gym in the basement, but leave it to her ass to try to strip me of that shit.

  “Deal. Let me go ahead and start looking at the kind of flooring that I want for my gym,” I said.

  She looked at me with shocked eyes and laughed.

  “Are you second-guessing me? You don’t have faith in your wife?” she asked as she took the chicken out of the pan and set it on a plate.

  “I just know them contractions ain’t shit to play with. Do yo’ thing though, bae,” I said and slapped her on her ass then walked into the den area so I could catch up on sports.

  I don’t even know why I made that fuckin’ bet with Normani. I told y’all before that my wife was little in stature but easily the strongest woman I knew.

  Two months later

  Delivery time

  It was a little after three in the morning, and I was down in the living room, moaning in pain with contractions kicking my ass. My husband and I had just gotten home from the hospital about two hours ago after being turned away because I was told that it wasn’t time yet for our baby. This was actually the second time this week that we had been turned around because it was just false alarms. They told me that I was just experiencing Braxton hicks.

  My husband raised hell in the hospital both times because he hated that I was in pain, and nothing was being done. Trust me, I was angry myself, but if it wasn’t time, then it just wasn’t time, although this pain was killing me. I didn’t want the option of having to get my water broken because I wanted everything to happen naturally, but I just really didn’t know what I wanted to do.

  When I was checked this evening at the hospital, I was barely one centimeter dilated, which was crazy because I felt like I was at least eight centimeters. The more this pain rocked my body, I just didn’t even know if I would be able to do this natural thing that I had been boasting about doing ever since I found out that I was pregnant. My sister had done it natural, my mother told me that she had both me and Naomi natural, so I felt like I had to follow suit.

  Billionaire was upstairs in the bedroom, more than likely, finally getting some sleep. My husband rarely slept these days. I rarely slept, and I was always keeping him up with me. I put one of my favorite movies on, which was Freedom Writers, and I hoped this movie could be a distraction, but it wasn’t. I was curled up with the blanket wrapped around my body and softly sobbing into the throw pillow on the couch.

  I knew there was one person who could calm me down when I got like this, and that was my mother. I paused the movie and then felt around the couch for my phone. Once I found it, I quickly dialed her up. A contraction shot through my back, and I swear I even felt this little girl power kick me in my vagina. By this time, I was standing up, using the sleeves of my pajamas to wipe my eyes.

  “Is it time yet?” was the first thing my mom asked me when she answered the phone. She didn’t even sound like she had been sleeping.

  “No, Mommy. I’m in pain. We went to the hospital again this evening, and they turned us around. I don’t… Oh my Godddddd,” I cried, feeling another one rip through my body. This time, I dropped to my knees.

  “Normani, what?” my mom screamed into the phone.

  “Maaaaaaa,” I cried her name, in so much pain.

  “Normani, you need to breathe! Where is your husband?” she asked.

  “Upstairs. He’s asleep. Pray for me, Ma,” I cried into the phone.

  Her prayers always worked. I swear they did. That’s why I called her in the first place.

  “Okay. Close your eyes, Normani,” she told me, and I put the phone on speaker, dropped it in my lap, and I closed my eyes.

  “Father God, I’m coming to you right now, asking You to give my daughter the strength that she needs right now to bring my granddaughter into this world. Father God, I hear the pain in my baby’s voice, and I know that it’s time. I know it’s time. Father God, I’m asking you to have your arms wrapped around the entire process of this labor. Bless it all, Father God, from the vehicle that they will use to get her to the hospital, to the doctor who will deliver my beautiful baby and—”

  “MAAAAAAAA,” I cried, cutting off her prayer because in the middle of her praying, I felt warm fluids rushing out of me. I looked down and saw the clear fluids that were coming out of me like urine, so I knew then that my water had broken.

  “Normani, you—”

  “Ma, my water broke. My water broke, Ma,” I screamed.

  “Billionaireeeeee!” I screamed my husband’s name, hoping that he could hear me because I knew I would not make it up those stairs.

  “I knew it was time. I’m getting ready to call your sister. We will meet you there. I love you, baby,” my mom said.

  “I love you too, Ma,” I said, and then I hung up the phone.

  At the same time, I heard my husband running down the stairs. I was still contracting, rocking my body, and trying to ease the pain, but nothing was working. Billionaire made it into the living room, in just his briefs. He looked down at me on the floor, saw the evidence that my water had broken, and his hands went over his mouth like he was shocked that this was really happening.

  “Baby, you gotta get the bags. Bring me down something to throw on,” I said, talking to him through my pain.

  Billionaire took a few moments to process all of this, but he eventually took off. He came back in a matter of minutes, and this time, he was fully dressed. He just brought a pair of tights down for me, so I could throw them on. Billionaire helped me put them on, and with the Gucci diaper bag wrapped around him, and my hospital bag wrapped around him too, he lifted me in his arms to carry me out the door.

  “Why the fuck you was down here anyway?” he asked as he carried me out of the front door.

  “I didn’t want to wake you up. I was in pain. I still am,” I groaned.

  “So fuckin’ what? Everything stops for you, and you know that,” he said.

  I promise I didn’t even have the strength to say anything back to him.

  One hour later

  “Was the dick worth it, Normani?” Twinkle asked me in a low whisper, so the adults in the room wouldn’t hear her, like my mom and my husband’s mom.

  Twinkle was in Miami because she was packing up at her old house. She would be moving to Cali for good at the end of the week. As much as I loved Twinkle, and as much as I considered her a little sister, she had been fuckin’ with me since we got to the hospital, and I was ready to slap her ass in the face. This stubborn baby still hadn’t graced us with her presence yet.

  When I made it to the hospital, I’d quickly jumped to five centimeters, and forty-five minutes later, I was ten centimeters. I had been pushing so far for over five minutes. My body was drenched in sweat, and everyone in this room had seen everything on my body. I came out of that hospital gown two minutes ago because I was hot. Everyone was witnessing me right now in rare form as I cried. I screamed for both my husband and my mother. I screamed for this baby to hurry up and rip out of me. Everything about this just needed to be over.

  I was still doing it naturally, and at this point, it was too late for me to ask for an epidural because I wouldn’t even be able to sit still for that. Twinkle was standing on one side of me, at the head of the bed, while my husband was on the other side. He was using the cold face towel to wipe the sweat off my body. My mom, Billionaire’s mother, and my sister were all
at the foot, wanting to be the first to see the baby.

  “Twinkle, moveeee!” I cried, really wanting to slap her because she was irritating the hell out of me.

  “Twink, leave her the fuck alone, bruh. Ima make sure she does the same shit to you in a few months when it’s yo’ turn,” my husband said.

  “Doctor Davidson, the next time you feel another contraction, I need you to push harder than ever. This baby can be out in less than two minutes,” my doctor said.

  “Yo, that’s Doctor Knox. That’s a married woman right there,” my husband snapped to my doctor.

  Everyone in the room laughed because Billionaire could be such an asshole at times. I thought that pushing would be a piece of cake because I watched my sister do it, but it wasn’t. I had been pushing so hard that I popped a blood vessel in my eye, so my right eye was bloody looking. I was really in there, going through it. That contraction came that the doctor was telling me about, and I could see on the monitor that it was a powerful one, so I cried through it as I pushed, but nothing.

  “I can’ttttt,” I cried, shaking my head on the pillow, feeling defeated.

  My husband leaned his head in and kissed away the tears and the sweat dripping off me.

  “Shorty, you breaking my fuckin’ heart crying like this. I know it hurts, but you can be holding Prosper in your arms in a minute. Come on. Push for daddy,” he whispered in my ear.

  He kissed my lips and then pulled back. His words woke up something inside of me because this time, when that contraction came, I pushed… and I pushed… kept pushing. When I heard the women in the room scream, and my doctor and the nurses said that they could see the head, I pushed some more. It felt like I was having the biggest bowel movement of my life. Sure enough, less than one minute later, I felt the baby come out of me.

  I cried big time when my doctor lifted a beautiful little girl, who was screaming her little lungs out. He lowered her onto my chest, and not even caring about the vernix on her little body, I kissed her. I looked over at my husband, who was crying too. Everyone in the room was crying.