Justify My Thug (14 page)

Faheem answered the door and stepped out onto the porch. He didn't acknowledge me but smiled at our son. Before he could say anything, Lil' Faheem asked, “Daddy, is my baby sister home?”

Faheem was still smiling. “Yes she is, but she's not a baby. The both of you are the same age.”

Lil' Faheem then turned to me and said, “Mommy, you said she was the baby.”

Faheem didn't give me a chance to respond to him. “Well, I'll tell you what. Say goodbye to your mom and we'll go inside. And when you see her, you tell me if she's a baby or a big girl. Do we have a deal?”

Lil' Faheem nodded in agreement, looked at me and waved goodbye. They both disappeared into the house. I was left standing on the porch wondering how long Faheem planned on giving me the silent treatment.

Nurse Wright yawned, looked at her watch and stood up. It was 4:44 a.m. They were short staffed as usual, so that meant that she had to sponge bathe her three patients and probably two more. Since Brown Doe was the smallest, she decided to start with her first. She stepped inside of room 703 and turned on the light. In all of her sixteen years she had never seen anyone in a coma who
was so strong willed. Brown Doe was hanging in there. She had been transferred around as if she was a foster child. The coma patients she had previously cared for, most them either gave up or their families gave up and pulled the plug. Well, if Brown Doe had a family they probably would have lost patience and given up too. It had been months and Miss Brown Doe needed to wake up soon because her charity was running out.

Nurse Wright began humming her song for the day, “Amazing Grace,” as she prepared to give Brown Doe a sponge bath. Calling someone Jane Doe was so impersonal to her and she didn't get down like that. Plus the young lady had such a rich brown complexion. If it wasn't for the stretch marks on the girl's stomach, she would pass for a teenager. That's what everyone else thought but Nurse Wright knew better. This was a grown woman and judging by the old scars on her arm, she knew that this young lady came with some history.

Nurse Wright wiggled Brown Doe out of her hospital robe and sponged her down. She then lotioned up her body with the Avon lotion she brought from home. It kept Brown Doe's skin nice and soft. She then eased her small frame into a clean gown. As Nurse Wright stood there looking over her patient, she decided that she would swab Brown Doe's mouth, since it was so hard to use a toothbrush and then the last thing she would do was twist her hair. She smiled at that thought. Since Nurse Wright had long, dark, red locks up in a bun, she kept Brown Doe's locks up in a ponytail. They weren't long enough yet to twist up into a bun.

As she busied herself with dumping the pail that was used for the sponge bath and filling up the small toothbrush bowl, she recalled the big ugly scar that was on the right side of her
head. Now, with her new growth of hair, it was 90% covered. Wetting the swab first, she smeared a smidgen of tooth gel on it. She held Brown Doe's mouth open while brushing her teeth and gums at the same time. To Nurse Wright's surprise Brown Doe started gagging. She stopped swabbing and stood back. Brown Doe kept gagging and then she started choking. Her eyes popped open and then she sat straight up, choking and gagging.

The heart monitor began beeping fast and steady.

In a room down the hall, Brown Doe's doctor and a nurse watched the heart monitor screen light up. “Is that room 703?” Nurse Nevins asked Dr. Shalala.

“My sweet Jesus!” They heard Nurse Wright shriek from way down the hall. “Oh my God!” The young lady who she had been taking care of for almost five months was throwing up. Nurse Wright hit the call button. “Brown Doe is awake! Brown Doe is awake!” she yelled. “Get Dr. Kerr or Dr. Shalala in here
stat
!”

Dr. Shalala and Nurse Nevins were already sprinting down the hall.

After leaving Chuck-E-Cheese, me and Kaeerah dropped off Lil' Faheem at his mom's. When we pulled up into the driveway, she came out the house and met us.

“Would you like to come in?” she had the nerve to ask me. I waited until my son grabbed his toys and got out before responding.

When he was up on the front porch I said, “I want you to
remember that I ain't ya fuckin' friend. Seven fuckin' years, Oni?” I wasn't trying to hide my disappointment and disgust. She hung her head and I put the car in reverse and left.

The more time I spent with my son the more venom I had towards her. The little guy was brilliant. I was like a superstar to him, well, that was until Aisha came home. I got a kick out of watching them interact. Once she got there and they started playing, he conveniently pushed me to the side. I guess it's true what they say about a brother and a sister's love.

I stormed inside of my house, my mood for eating the big dinner I just cooked up … gone.
I ain't ya fuckin' friend
. He wasn't saying that bullshit when he was all up inside me. His remark caught me off guard and Lil' Faheem rambling on and on about how much fun he had with his dad and his baby sister wasn't helping matters at all. Well, even though she wasn't a baby, he felt that he was the oldest, especially since he was a little taller. As he excitedly rambled on about Chuck-E-Cheese, I couldn't shake Faheem's blunt remark. That shit got under my skin and I couldn't shake it. Again, I wasn't trying to fool myself. Hell, I fantasized so many times about Faheem being with his father that it sometimes would make me sick. But now, I didn't know if I was more mad at him for refusing me or more mad at myself for inviting his obnoxious ass in. But shit, I'd be damned if I was going to put up with his disrespect. He's in his son's life because I'm
allowing
him to be.

The more I thought about the situation the angrier I became. So, after I put Faheem to bed I decided to call him.

Me and Faheem was curled up on the couch watching television and talking when the house phone rang. Faheem picked it up.

“Hello.”

His body stiffened right up.

“What do you mean I could at least respect you as the mother of our son? I would have never known I had a son if I didn't run into him at some fucking ghetto-ass mall!”

Faheem had moved me off of his chest and was sitting straight up.

“What the fuck do we have to talk about, Oni? Tell me.”

Just when I had started to run into the kitchen to pick up the other phone so that I could listen in, he hung up on her. I will be paying this bitch a visit tomorrow to check her about getting my hubby all riled up.

I had called and left Faheem a message to come by after seven. I knew that I had gotten him amped up on the phone last night but hey, I had to get the lines of communication up and running somehow. Even if we were having angry dialogue, it was nevertheless dialogue.

I sent Lil' Faheem to his uncle Damon's house. And by 7:00 I was sitting on my front porch looking pretty, awaiting the arrival of my baby daddy. At 7:10 Jaz pulls up into my driveway. This bitch had the nerve to be alone.

I don't know what happened back there when I pulled up to get Tasha, but she has been fuming ever since. It looked like they had been physically fighting but when I asked her, she didn't respond. Physical fight or verbal, whichever one it was, had my sister bent the fuck up.

We were riding stand-by since everything was spur of the moment and because of that we had to hang out at the airport before catching the red-eye to LaGuardia. I had to sneak off to call Kendrick and let him know what time we were coming in, since he was the one picking us up. He told me that Kyron had gone out of town to take care of some business but he had brought Tasha a car to use to get around the city. I was like
damn, the power of the pussy.
I didn't tell my sister about the car, I would let Kyron do that becuse I know she probably would start trippin'. But shit, what were we going to drive around in once we got into the city? I hated cabs and I damn sure wasn't
riding the bus or train. When I was ready to move, I was ready to move, so I had no problems with Kyron trickin' off some wheels for my sister.

Suprisingly, when Kyron did catch up with her, she didn't trip. And since he was out of town, Tasha decided to crash at his apartment while I camped out with Kendrick. It was all good but the minute she heard that Kyron was on his way back she packed up her little bags and went to a hotel. She tried to talk me into going with her, but unh, uh. I was laying up under the dick.

I finally went to the doctor's office this morning and yes, I am pregnant. When she told me the results she said that I looked at her as if to say,
No, it can't be. Take it back
. I told her she didn't know the half of it. She told me to try her because in fourteen years of practice she had seen and heard it all. I got up and left. I needed to see my children.

Yeah, Kyron brought me a 2010 Jaguar. It was white on white. That bitch was almost prettier than me. The nigga put it in
my
name. He joked that he couldn't have his baby momma running around the city flagging down taxis. He knew that I had a garage full of wheels at my home out West, but him trickin' his dough on my new ride simply reminded me that I still had
it
. He had left it parked in the garage under his building and he left the keys and all of the paperwork on the kitchen counter. I called him to thank him for the ride but mainly to find out when he was coming back. That's how I knew to leave when I did. He didn't come out and say it, but I nosed around and got an idea. I
couldn't see myself driving the car … not yet. You know when a nigga buys you anything big, especially a car,
and
puts it in your name, you better believe he thinks that the pussy belongs to him. I gave the keys to Trina and told her that she could chauffeur me around. She was grinning from ear-to-ear. All this bitch needed was a chauffeur's hat.

After my doctor's appointment, I went shopping for the kids and we headed over to their grandparents house. I told Trina to pull up into the driveway and park. Pop Pop, Trae's father, was standing in the front door. He was surprised to see me and he came out onto the porch.

“Is that my precious daughter-in-law?” He made his way down the steps.

“Yes, Pop Pop, it is I,” I teased and gave him a hug. “You met my sister Trina before.”

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? She looks just like you.”

“Hello, Mr. Macklin.” Trina came around the car and gave him a hug.

“Call me Pop Pop like the rest of the family. I've gotten used to it by now,” he told her.

“I brought the boys some things and I want to take them for the night.” I gave him a couple of the bags to carry inside while I carried the rest. “What have they been up to? I miss them.”

“Nana called last night. They are having a good time.”

“Last night? Where are they?” I was hoping that I was hearing him wrong. Was he saying that my sons were not here?

“They're in Florida. You didn't know? No one called you? They've been gone for three days now.”

“Florida?” My voice squeaked. It felt as is a ton of bricks had just been dumped on me.

“They went to hang out with Mickey Mouse. Come on in. Let's get this stuff inside. It's not like they need it,” he mumbled that last part but I still heard him.

I was speechless. This muthafucka! Trae is going to make me kill him. I know he did this shit on purpose. I had to take a deep breath to try and calm myself down. I couldn't go off on Pop Pop, because it wasn't his fault. But still, no one had the courtesy to let me know that my kids were across the country. I had our next two days planned out. We took everything inside and then I called Nana and spoke to the boys. They were having a ball. Pop Pop fed us some of his chili, which I didn't like and then we left.

We were getting ready to back up when a Navigator pulled up behind us and blocked us in. “What the fuck?” Me and my sister said at the same time.

Then she gritted. “No this muthafucka did not just hit
my
cocaine Jag.”

I was starting to like this new jag and was thinking about asking Kendrick to get me one. No nigga ever brought me a new car and put it in my name. “Where to sis?” I put the jag in reverse and started to back up when this big ass truck rammed into us. He didn't hit us hard but he hit us. But that wasn't the kicker. When I saw a nigga jump out and come towards the driver's side and that nigga was Trae, I was too through. I hit the locks real quick and said, “Oh shit.”

He didn't realize it was me and barked, “Whose car is this, Tasha?” When he saw that I was in the driver's seat he went
around the front of the car and he headed for Tasha. I looked at her and she was in shock. My sister actually looked scared and the shit was spilling over on me.

“Just tell him it's mine,” I whispered. I could see that this nigga was certifiably crazy. And if we had planned to get out of this situation in one piece I had better play my role.

“Whose car is this, Tasha?” He had mad bass in his voice and I could tell that he sensed that this car was brought by some nigga.

“Why didn't you tell me the boys were going to Florida, Trae?”

“Whose car is this Tasha?” He was seething and was only concerned with whose car this was.

“It's Trina's,” my sister lied.

“This ain't her car,” he had the nerve to say it as if I wasn't good enough to be driving a Jag.

“It is hers. Now can you move your truck? We are trying to leave.”

“Let me see the registration and insurance card.”

“Can you move your truck please?”

Trae tried to open the door but I had already locked it. “Open the door, Tasha.”