Maybe we would have been together still.
Maybe we would be married with kids by now.
Maybe . . . maybe we could have been happy.
I satin the cemetery parking lot feeling the familiar tightening of my chest.
Every time I came here, my fucking heart broke for my son all over again. This shit was so unfair to him. I had so many regrets and guilt over Donna’s death. I kept telling myself if I’d just been there that day, she would still be here. At the first sign of contractions, I would have made her go to the hospital. Maybe they could have stopped the bleeding. Maybe they could have saved her.
With a heavy sigh, I climbed out of the car and grabbed KJ from the back seat. Thankfully, my boy was feeling much better. When we left here, I was taking him to his grandma’s for the weekend. My nerves were on ten about leaving him, but this was what I’d been wanting for him. He didn’t have his mother, and he needed to know Ms. Anita.
Walking up the pathway, we made our way toward Donna’s burial plot. KJ was just babbling along and looking around. As we neared the spot, a cool breeze blew, tickling his face. The only thing I could see were gums.
“That’s Mama,” I said, kissing his cheek.
I took a spot on the ground in front of the headstone and placed him in my lap. His little hands reached to touch Donna’s picture, and the babbling started again.
“You know your mama, don’t you?” I asked, letting him get closer. “I know she would have loved you, man. She’d probably have you spoiled and then blamed me for it.” I touched the headstone and closed my eyes for a moment. “I miss you, D. I never thought I’d have to do this shit without you.”
I thought back to the conversation we had about that very topic.
She was lying in my bed, and my head was rested on her stomach. KJ was kicking up a storm, and I was loving every moment of it. Her pregnancy had been smooth and beautiful. I couldn’t contain my excitement over finally becoming a father.
“He’s trying his hardest to get evicted,” Donna said, poking her stomach. “Calm your little ass down in there.”
“Let my boy be great. He knows when daddy is talking to him.”
“Well daddy can get up off me.”
She tried to push me off, but I held onto her a little tighter.
“Don’t act up,” I warned her.
“Move, Kerrion. It’s my turn to cuddle.”
Pregnancy made her more affectionate, but I didn’t mind. A nigga loved this kind of shit. Even if she wasn’t my girl, I had mad love for her and would do anything to keep her happy. I maneuvered myself to lay my head on the pillow, and she snuggled up against me. I relaxed into the soft bed and flipped through the channels.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Donna said softly.
“What’s up?”
“So I’ve been watching a lot of medical dramas?—”
“D, I told you about that shit. You gon’ fuck around and be paranoid.”
“Would you just listen?”
I motioned for her to continue.
“I need you there to speak up for me. Be my advocate. They don’t listen to black women during labor and delivery, especially when we’re in pain.”
“So what you’re saying is I have permission to pull my gun out?”
She slapped my chest. “I’m serious, Kerrion.”
“Shit, me too.”
She shook her head. “There’s one more thing. If something goes wrong?—”