Page 33 of Certified Pressure 2
I squinted at her. “You sure?”
“Yes.” She nodded like she meant it.
Next thing I knew, her arms were around me, pullin’ me close, huggin’ me like she could squeeze the doubt right out my chest. And even though I ain’t say it, I felt it—this was the type of shit that made me see why I could love Pluto and Kashmere at the same time. Pluto had my heart in ways I couldn’t even explain, but Kashmere had this sweetness under all that crazy that made me think maybe she could grow into somethin’ real too. I could just look in her eyes and tell she really loved me.
Right when I let myself relax into her arms there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called out, already half-annoyed.
The door cracked, and Ka’mari stepped in holdin’ a cup of coffee. Soon as she saw Kashmere in my bed, her whole vibe switched. Kashmere sat up slow, givin’ her a nasty ass look, and Ka’mari shot one right back. The tension hit the room quick, and Ka’mari’s eyes cut to me like she expected me to check Kashmere and send her packin’.
I dragged my hand down my face. “I’mma get up with you,” I told Kashmere, my voice low but clear.
Kashmere didn’t wanna move, I saw it in her face. But she pulled it together, leaned down, and kissed me on the lips right in front of Ka’mari before slidin’ off the bed. I watched Ka’mari’s eyes roll damn near to the ceilin’, then Kashmere strutted out the room with her chin high.
Ka’mari shook her head and walked over, settin’ the cup in my hand. “This is really a real thing…” she muttered, side-eyeing me.
I shrugged and took a sip. “Aye, it is what it is.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, her hand restin’ bold on my thigh. “How you doin’?” she asked, her voice softer than I expected.
Before I could even form an answer, her eyes shifted to the dresser. The box from Kashmere’s test was sittin’ right there, plain as day. I saw the change in her face—the way her eyes narrowed, and the way her jaw tightened.
“Who’s pregnant?” she asked, her tone sharp now.
I let out a breath, lookin’ right at her. “Nobody. The test was negative.”
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t let it drop. “But you were expecting it to be positive, huh?”
She leaned back, shaking her head slow. “That’s the part I don’t understand. You can look at another woman and imagine her carrying your child, but when it comes to me—when it comesto what we went through—you act like it never happened. Like it’s easier to bury it than to face it.”
That struck a nerve so deep my chest burned. I turned toward her, my voice raisin’. First of all, don’t come in here tellin’ me what the fuck you think I’mimagining. You don’t know what’s goin’ on in my head, Ka’mari. And face it? You talkin’ to me about facin’ shit? You the one who swallowed them pills. You the one who ain’t wanna go through it again after we lost my son. Don’t sit here like I’m the only one runnin’.”
Her lips parted, tears already glossin’ her eyes. “You think I wanted that? You think I ain’t wake up every day, rememberin’ how it felt to hold my stomach and know he was gone? You think I ain’t die inside too? I was scared, Pressure. I was terrified of losin’ another one and of breakin’ down all over again. I didn’t know what else to do. And until you are able to carry a soul in your body, don’t tell me shit!”
I couldn’t believe Ka’mari was takin’ me here right now. I clenched my jaw, shakin’ my head, my chest heavy with everything I never said out loud. I stared at her, my chest burnin’. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it like my pain don’t count ‘cause I ain’t the one who carried him. That was my son too. I don’t give a fuck if I nutted in the ground, buried it with soil, and my son grew through a fuckin’ cactus—he was still my son, and I felt that shit too. Miss me with that bullshit, girl.”
Her face broke right there. She covered her mouth, cryin’ hard, shoulders shakin’. The sound of it cut straight through me, no matter how much I wanted to stay mad. I felt it all over again—the hospital lights, the weight of silence where a cry should’ve been, the way Ka’mari turned her face to the wall after it happened and never looked at me the same.
And then the part I never said out loud…The doctors put my son in my arms anyway. He was small, cold and wrapped in a blanket like he was sleepin’…but he wasn’t. That was the firstand last time I held him. I can still feel how light he was, like holdin’ air, like he wasn’t even real. But he was mine. And I felt like I failed him before he even got a chance to know me.
Ka’mari carried him in her body, but I carried the weight of losin’ him in my spirit every day after. Ain’t no nigga ever gon’ understand what it felt like to be handed your child already gone and still be expected to walk out that hospital standin’ tall. I wasn’t tall that day. I was hollow. I felt like less of a man, like I couldn’t even do the one thing that mattered—bring my son here safe.
That shit broke somethin’ in me and made me colder. It made me guard my heart the way I guard my money, my name, my empire. I had to make myself believe my son never existed because that was the only way I could cope. And if I couldn’t protect my own flesh and blood, what the fuck was I really worth?
But even still, I put my own pain to the side and made sure Ka’mari was cared for. She ain’t have to lift a finger. I lined her up with the best psychiatrist money could buy, and covered every bill so she wouldn’t ever stress about nothin’. I kept her fed, kept her clothed, kept her world movin’, and held her every night while she cried in my arms when I barely knew how to keep myself together. I took every ounce of energy I had left and poured it into her, tryna make sure she didn’t drown in her grief. I was there in the ways a man was supposed to be when his woman break. I was solid, unshaken and present.
And still… it wasn’t enough. Ka’mari got so lost in her pain she couldn’t see I was fightin’ my own demons right next to her. She never understood that my silence, my protectiveness, my paranoia—it was me havin’ reactions to trauma too. I wasn’t tryin’ to control her. I was scared. Scared of losin’ again. Scared that if I let her out my sight, the world would take what littleI had left. Then when she took those abortion pills behind my back, and got rid of our second baby, I lost control.
I couldn’t stand to hear Ka’mari cry over this shit, so I reached for her, pullin’ her into me. She didn’t fight it. She collapsed against my chest, sobbin’, beatin’ at me with weak fists before clingin’ to my shirt like she was drownin’.
I held her close, my chin on top of her head, my hand sliding up and down her back. My voice was low, damn near a whisper, but it was all I had left. “He was mine too. Don’t ever think I ain’t carry that with me. I just… I don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how to breathe through it.”
She cried harder, clingin’ to me like she needed me to hold her together. And I let her. I let her soak my shirt, let her feel my heartbeat under her cheek and let her know that no matter how much we hurt each other, we would always be tied through that loss.
I knew it wasn’t just her cryin’ for him. It was me too, even if I couldn’t let the tears fall.
And sittin’ here holdin’ her, I finally stopped runnin’ from it too.
