Page 42 of Sunday

She shook her head rapidly. “When I was a little girl, . . . about eleven I think . . .” She tapped her lip as if she were thinking and then nodded. “Yeah, about eleven. I overheard him tell Bjorn the main reason he married a white woman was so that he could give his kids a chance. He said that he loved black women, and they were beautiful, but he knew that if he brought another black kid into the world, then it would be hard on them as they grew up, especially black boys. He said that at least with us being mixed race, we stood a chance.”

I sucked my teeth and shook my head. That was some old Uncle Tom sell-out shit if I’d ever heard it. “Nah, what he did was fail to equip them boys properly for the world. You think them officers give a fuck that their mama is white when they see your brothers in the streets? Nah. They don’t. They just see another nigga with a little lighter skin and curlier hair than the next, but they still just a nigga.”

“White officers?”

I scoffed. “Both, baby. Sometimes, it be your own kind. Believe it or not, I’ve gone through more hell with black officers than some white officers. And some white officers have stood up for me in the face of their black counterparts.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It is, but it’s my reality. And that’s why your daddy didn’t want you fucking with me, why he had an attitude with me on sight, and why he flipped his wig when he learned you were pregnant by me.”

“I want our baby to be proud of his ethnicity, every part of it, CJ.”

“And he will be. He’ll be a strong black boy who knows his history and who he represents.”

I bent down while rubbing her growing belly. At five months pregnant and halfway through her pregnancy, she could no longer hide her belly.

“Hey, li’l nigga.”

“Cedar.” She poked me in the rib and giggled.

“What?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“I can if I want.”

“Just don’t, okay?”

I sucked my teeth and replied, “A’ight. I’ll call that li’l nigga, my li’l king.”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Love me,” I replied and kissed her lips.

Her eyes were wide when I pulled back and leaned down to her belly again. In the softest voice that I was sure she thought I didn’t hear, I heard her whisper, “I already do.”

“Daddy’s so proud of you, and I can’t wait to meet you. When you get here, I’ve got so much to teach you about being a man, especially a Jackson man. Our bloodline is strong and rich, and you’ll be proud of where you come from.”

“On both sides,” Sunday piped up.

I glanced up at her. I decided not to clown on that nigga she called daddy.

“You’ll be proud of the legacy your mama and me are giving you. Proud of your mama because she’s a beautiful, strong, smart, and courageous lady. I know she can’t wait to meet you too. But guess what . . .? Well, damn, I guess you already know. I was right. You are a boy. Probably in there playing with ya li’l dick now, swinging it around and shit. But I already know because you are my son, ain’t shit little about it.”

I chuckled as Sunday shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Look at you bonding with our baby.”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking. We need a bigger house, Sunday.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“Our family is growing. We’ll need space for when the baby arrives.”

“Slow down. We’ve got enough room.”

“He needs a room.”

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