Page 37 of Mahogany 2
I couldn’t let what I had going on at home pour over into work. You know how detrimental shit would’ve been had I not caught that miscalculation? Yeah, there was an inspector but what if they would have missed it? Shit, even if he found it, I would’ve been in trouble. I had to get my shit together, and fast. I never fucked up at work. Ever. I wasn’t about to start now.
After Josh walked out of the office, my phone rang. With annoyance, I grabbed it and picked it up expecting it to be exactly who it was. Rochelle. For the third time this week, I ignored the call. I felt like shit, but I did it anyway. I neededa minute. She didn’t know about the results, and I didn’t know when I would be telling her. A nigga just needed a couple more days—weeks really—to bask in the reality I already knew. I wasn’t ready for things to change. Wasn’t ready to incorporate another child into the routine I already knew so well.
Brushing a hand down over my waves, I stared at the phone, watching as she called for a second time. It could have been about anything. Diary was still in the hospital. Maybe she wasn’t doing too well. Did it make me a fucked-up person to hope for that? It did. Especially since I knew she was mine. I just… I didn’t know how to handle what life had thrown at me.
The kid was mine.
Had concrete proof I never really needed but what the fuck was I supposed to do now? Play daddy to a little girl I didn’t want? Live two separate lives? How in the fuck was I supposed to do that? With everything my life demanded? I couldn’t get a fuckin break. Felt like the walls of life were closing in on me and I was insanely close to being taken out of this bitch.
The phone stopped ringing, and I sighed again, brushing another hand over the top of my head. Right after the ringing stopped, a text message came through. It was from her, of course. Letting me know that Diary was being discharged and that she needed a little help because she didn’t get off work until later. Why in the hell was Ms. Rochelle still working? She had to be in her sixties.
I didn’t reply. Left it on delivered, stuffed the phone into my pocket and got back to work.
Did I want to be a deadbeat? To any of my children? Hell naw, but fear was keeping me planted in the reality I knew. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get to know Diary it was just that shit… at this stage in my life I couldn’t. My marriage was barely hanging on by a thread. Things went well yesterday and this morning. Didn’t mean I was in the clear and we’d be good likethat forever. I was crippled with so much fear that even the good times scared me.
I just didn’t know how long the shit would last. I felt like if I played the situation with Diary right, I could navigate around it for a nice little minute. Possibly. Hell yeah, I wanted to take it to the grave. Prayed like hell God would look out for me in that way. But shit, with my track record… there was no telling. Which brought me right back around to the topic of fear. Was too scared to make a move. Was too much of a real nigga to treat the situation like it didn’t exist too though.
When my phone went off again, I wanted to throw it. I thought about ignoring it but what would that do? Shit, I’d ignored her three times already and she kept going. Leaning over to the side a little, I grabbed my phone from my pocket. Of course it was her again. This time she was apologizing for the calls and text messages.
I know you waitin on results. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this stuff right now. I’ll figure out how to get her out of the hospital. It ain’t your responsibility.
But it was.
Rochelle needed help and I was out here running away from my responsibilities. I tossed my head back and said, “Fuck,” under my breath, trying to figure out how I was going to handle this shit.
I didn’t want to pick her up but the real nigga in me wouldn’t let me just keep ignoring her ass bro. It had been too long already. I had to do something. Couldn’t sit up as a deadbeat father. I hated everything about niggas like that. I’d been on enough fuck shit. Knew shorty was mine before the results came in, ran from the responsibility then. Got the results and I was still running. She needed me and what was I doing? Trying to run. Couldn’t run anymore though. Had to face the fucking fire.
Standing, I paced and called Rochelle back.
“Yeah, hello? You didn’t have to?—”
“I got the results back, Ms. Rochelle,” I interrupted. Fuck it. I felt like shit keeping that in. Maybe now that I’d said it out loud, I would feel a little relief. “She mine. I was just?—“
“Hallelujah!” She shouted. “I knew it. God told me as soon as you walked in that hospital and he ain’t never lied to me. Praise God. I was so worried I?—“
“What time I need to be at the hospital?” I interrupted, not in the mood for the theatrics. It might’ve been a celebratory time for her ass but for me it wasn’t.
“Oh,” she paused. “You ain’t too happy about it huh?”
“Don’t matter if I’m happy or not, miss. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.”
“Now look here, you don’t have to be in my grandbabies life. If you ain’t trying to love and do right by her I don’t want you around.”
That was my way out, wasn’t it? Could’ve said aight, hung up and blocked her. But Diary was my offspring, and I couldn’t just be like fuck it forever. It would eat at me. Viciously. Every time I was with my kids, the same way it’s been doing. Except, it would eat at me more. I wasn’t one of them. I took care of mine regardless. Had been since I was a young nigga. You think I wanted Aubry at sixteen? Shit no. I didn’t want a kid. I was a kid, but I manned up and did what I was supposed to do because I refused to move the same way my pops did. Situations might’ve been different, but essentially, they were the same.
“It’s not like that,” I paused and sighed. “E hit me with a curveball. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to pivot.”
She was quiet for a second before saying, “Look here… I don’t know you that well but what and who I do know is God! And He told me you was a good man. I’m stepping out on faith, trusting you with my grandbabies life. If you ain’t right you?—”
“I’m right Ms. Rochelle,” I interrupted, as if that should’ve made a difference. Rochelle was crazy, trusting me with Diary and she didn’t know me but that was what women of faith did—literally stepped out on faith. She reminded me of my grandmother. Thank God I wasn’t a treacherous ass nigga with ill intentions though. “I’m just trying to figure out how this big change is going to fit into my busy life that’s all.”
“Mmhmm,” She groaned, sounded as sweet as pie. “Listen to me son, I was Erika’s support system, I’ll be yours. We…” she paused and cleared her throat. “She ain’t here no more but I still am. You ain’t gotta do it alone, son. We gon’ do this together. Lord willin.”
Damn she was good to me.
Too good to me. Every time she came at me with some sweet shit, I felt bad. I didn’t deserve it. Low key wished she was the bitch I thought she would be when I rolled up in the hospital that day. I wonder how she’d react if she knewwhyI didn’t know how to maneuver. I wondered how she would react if she knew Diary was my fifth and I had a whole ass family at the crib. I wondered if she’d be so accommodating then, if she knew her daughter had an affair with a married man.
But that was neither here nor there. She didn’t need to know shit, but Diary was in good hands. Shaky hands, but they were good. I was mad but she was innocent. The only person I could truly be mad at was myself. Not Erika, and certainly not Diary. She deserved better.
