Page 1 of Virgo Type Sh*t
When God saidthere would be days like this, I didn’t think he meant like this! I felt so numb inside right now. Three weeks ago, I had so much hope. When my son Derrick James was born, I had hope. My baby boy was born thirteen weeks early. He didn’t even weigh two pounds yet. Here I was, in a rocking chair, holding a lifeless Derrick.
“It’s going to be alright.” Faheeta, my best friend, hugged me around my shoulders the best she could with her protruding belly. “You know I got you, sis.”
My boyfriend, James, stood there in a daze of some sort. Tears flowed down everyone’s eyes in the room except his. I wasn’t surprised, though, because he wasn’t an emotional kind of person. Neither was I, if I had to be honest. This was a different situation. The baby that I initially wasn’t sure I was ready for, then eventually felt like I couldn’t live without, left me. God needed him more than I did.
“Mommy is so sorry, D.J.” I spoke lowly to his lifeless body that was a little bigger than my hands. D.J., Derrick James. I decided to name my son after his father and my father. James felt some kind of way at first because he wanted James to lead, but that sounded stupid.James Derrick.He eventually got over it when he admitted that it did sound crazy.
My eyes trailed to my father, who squatted in front of me. Derrick Henderson was the best father that any girl could have. He allowed me to be his little princess but, at the same time, his little tomboy. I could step out in the freshest outfit with a flawless bust down and, at the same time, pull out my Lady Marmalade to blow your head off without missing a beat.
Silver Lake, New Mexico, was a prime location to hunt. On top of that, the mountain lions and bears were no joke, so you had to stay ready. My father and Uncle Dan cross-trained me on every gun that you could think of. I was a plus size-girl who stayed to herself, but that wasn’t something that should be taken for granted. I would slap a bitch without thought, then have a conversation with you afterward about how we could avoid the situation in the future.
My father’s tears were something that I didn’t think I had ever seen at the age of twenty-six. “Baby girl, what do you need to feel better? What can I do to make it better?”
I knew that he knew there was really nothing that he could do to make me feel better, but I thanked God that I had the kind of father that would ask the question anyway. “Daddy.” That was all I could mutter out right now. That one word was so loaded, and he knew it. His hand cuffed mine to hold his grandson.
“D.J., thank you for the three weeks that we had with you. The love that you allowed us to give you. God, please take care of my grandson, and heal my baby girl’s heart.” The sincerity in my daddy’s voice broke me down more. I caught my father’s head turning to the side as his eyes tightened.
Seconds later, Faheeta moved from my side, and James took her place. I glanced up at him. The hurt in his eyes was present, but there was something else there. These three weeks had been hard for us, but that was to be expected. He put his hand on my shoulder and just stood there. There was a disassociation that he had with this whole thing, and I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t going to say shit, though, because at the end of the day, we both were grieving.
The pastor of our church came in and prayed for us, before I allowed the nurse who had been by my baby’s side for the three weeks since he was born to take him away. I saw the hurt in her eyes and the tear that threatened to fall, but the professionalism held her back. “Mekole, I am so sorry.” She gave her condolences.
A smile was the only reaction to her words that I could offer. After a few more minutes, my family left the hospital. My mother had my left, and Faheeta had the right. I loved my best friend for being here with me through my whole pregnancy. She was due any day now, but that shit didn’t matter to her. She and I had been down like four flat tires since we were in middle school. Now, I would ask my best friend to help me plan the funeral for my son.
A Week Later . . .
It was three in the morning, and I was finally able to get to sleep. Later today we would bury my son. I was not ready at all. James and I had barely said two words to each other this week. We weren’t sleeping in the same room at this point. If I asked him something about the funeral plans, he just saidwhatever you want.
His mother helped, but she was in her feelings. She was mad that I didn’t call her the day that D.J. died so that she could be there. I told her it was not my responsibility to call her. She had a grown ass son who should have kept her in the loop. I had no beef with Ms. Nelson, but in this situation, she could kiss my ass.
I was pulled out of my sleep from my phone ringing. My phone had been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ since my son was born. The only people who could get through were people on my favorites list. That was the reason that I picked the phone up to see who it was. My heart dropped when I saw that it was Faheeta.“Faheeta, what’s wrong?”
“Hey, Mekole. I’m so sorry to wake you up. I know what today is, but I know you’ll kick my ass if I didn’t tell you that I was in labor.”Her voice was sympathetic. I hated that. Yes, I lost my son, but I didn’t want that to overshadow the birth of my goddaughter.
I jumped out of my bed.“Oh my God! I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have to come. I know you haven’t been sleeping, Mekole. Just rest,”she encouraged. She could kiss my ass.
“Shut up, Faheeta! I’m on my fucking way.”I hung up on her ass. My feet rushed around my room to put clothes on since I slept in very little clothes. I was a hot natured person.
When I left the house, the thought of telling James that I was leaving crossed my mind, but I thought better of it. Although his ass hadn’t been considerate of me, I would be considerate of his ass to let him rest. I rushed to my luxury SUV.
Life had been good to me outside of the loss of my son. One of the best things that I did when I graduated high school was go into a trade rather than a traditional four-year college. I received my Associate of Applied Science in Electrical Technology from Western New Mexico University. There were very few females in the electrician trade. We were often underestimated.
For the beginning part of my career, I worked in a lab with engineers. I helped them design, develop, test, and troubleshoot different electronic and electrical systems and equipment. I liked that work, and it paid stupendously, but it was boring to me. I was a consultant in that area of my field. I chose to move to another part of the field where I worked on construction sites as an electrician.
When I worked in a lab, I was a salaried employee. As an electrician on construction sites, I was hourly. I made far more as an hourly employee than I did when I was salary. I’d made as much as $120 per hour. I didn’t get out of my bed for anything less than eighty dollars an hour for a contract. I always had at least twenty hours of overtime a week on my checks. If I did a contract in California, that meant that I got overtime for the hours over eight in one day and the hours over forty for the week.
When men saw my pretty ass come onto a site, they were confused as to who the hell I was. I never half-stepped when it came to my appearance. Most of the men thought that I was too pretty for this line of work. James was a construction worker that I met on a site that I had a contract with.
It took me less than twenty minutes to get to the hospital, but I took another ten minutes or so to get my mind together before I went inside. Faheeta texted me her room number when I was on my way here. It took a few minutes to get signed in so that I could go up to the labor and delivery floor. I was confused as to why she came to this hospital to have her daughter when she had planned to have her at the same hospital that I had my son at.
“Faheeta, how are you?” I asked as soon as I walked into her room. I rubbed her head. “I’m here for lip gloss duty.” We both giggled. When I was in labor, she stood right next to me to encourage me and make sure my lips didn’t get dry. People loved to take pictures of you when you had your newborn baby on your chest.
Faheeta’s daughter’s father was a whole fucking bitch who I had run down on because you would never play with my best friend. I felt like my conversation was respectful. I didn’t raise my voice or curse, but he became very disrespectful. I didn’t think that was called for. I wanted to kill him, but I thought that was too extreme. I just shot him in his groin to encourage his dick to make better life decisions.
By the time Faheeta was eight centimeters dilated, her mother arrived from out of town. I was thankful because my chest was tight, and I didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t want to disappoint my best friend. “Mekole, please, I know this is a lot. I promise, I will not be upset.”
“Best friend, I’m so sorry.” My tears laced my cheeks. I felt horrible. She’d been there for me, but at this moment, my grief was too much.
