Mommy's Angel (15 page)

“Since when you want me goin’ easy on a ho?”

“Don’t get it confused, ain’t nothin’ changed around here. It’s just that I feel a little bad for her. I was part of the reason her brother got killed, the least I can do is cut ‘er some slack in this muthafucka.”

“All right,” Butter stretched her words with attitude.

I walked out into the hall. I was ready to fight a motherfucker. “Antione, what the fuck did you just say?”

Butter looked like she was going to hit me, and I ain’t give a fuck. I was ready for her ‘cause her ass whippin’ was long overdue. But Antione intercepted her.

“I got this,” he said as he grabbed my arm and walked me back in the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving Butter out in the hall.

“Antione, I don’t believe you! It was you who got Curtis killed? You was like his fuckin’ brother! He looked out for you! Why the fuck would you do something like that to him?”

Antione’s face grew angrier. “It’s so much more to the story, you don’t even know. Ya mom set that up. I just didn’t stop it!”

“Stop with ya bullshit! you did enough, okay! you hurt me enough!”
I screamed, picking the blunt up out of the ashtray.

“No! You wanna be in grown folks’ business, then you goin’ listen!” Antione said. “Ya mom had a problem way before Curt died. She owed so many people so much money from gambling. And Curtis would pay niggas off for her over and over again. And the more he made, the more she gambled and the more she owed. Then Curtis told her he wasn’t payin’ no more niggas for her. He told her she needed to stop with the gambling and the drinking and get her shit together. She begged him to pay one last debt and he was like naw. And I ain’t blame ‘im either, ‘cause she was takin’ advantage of’ im.”

In between taking puffs off the blunt, I cut Antione off. “She ain’t have my brother killed! I don’t care what you say. She might have had a gambling problem, she might have drank, but I know my mom and she do a lot of fucked-up shit, but she ain’t have my brother killed. Curtis was my mom’s heart!”

“She ain’t have him killed. She had ‘im robbed. But the robbery turned into a homicide. She ain’t mean for him to be killed. She just told the dudes she owed money to where they could collect it from. She knew he was going to sell a beat. She knew he was going to have money on ‘im. I’m the one who told her our route.”

“So both of y’all bastards set my brother up?!”

“Ya mom owed me money. Matter fact to this day she owe me money! I wanted to get paid. The other niggas she owed wanted to get paid. And all Curt had to do was give up the money. I told ‘im to give it up and we’d see those niggas later. But he wanted to be hardheaded and hit the gas. None of that shit would have went down if he would have just gave them niggas what they was askin’ for. They ain’t have no intentions on killin’ nobody. That wasn’t the plan. But y’ all some hardheaded mothafuckas. You and ya brother both. See all this shit you goin’ through right now. Had you just fuckin’ stayed here at Butter’s house, did what you was told, I would have been paid off and you wouldn’t be here right now, chokin’ on ya own tears and shit! Lookin’ fuckin’ pathetic!”

“Antione, I don’t believe you!” I cried. “My mom and my brother looked out for you! When ya mom died, my mom took you in our house! She fed ya ass, she clothed ya ass, she made sure you was taken care of!”

“She ain’t do shit! She was always talkin’ about she couldn’t afford to take care of me and she was ready to let the city come and get me! She ain’t start actin’ like she cared until I started hustlin’ and helpin’ her pay niggas off. That’s when she was like call me Mom! She shady, Angel! And she usin’ you to pay off her debts just like she used Curt! And you know what she owe me? Fourteen thousand! You ain’t worth but fourteen thousand to ya mom.”

“Aaaarrrh! Aaaarrrh!”
I screamed.

I thought smoking would ease the pain, but it only got worse. I dropped the blunt back in the ashtray, and I grabbed my stomach with my other hand. I felt like I was going to faint. My heart was racing and another sharp pain shot through my stomach.

“Ouuuuch! Oh, my Godddd!”

Butter walked in the room. “Antione, what the hell is goin’ on in here?”

Antione shook his head. “This little bitch don’t have a clue. She done got herself in some shit she don’t know how to get out of.”

Butter turned to me. “I know you don’t think you havin’ that baby in my house!”

“I don’t know what the fuck she doin’,” Antione said, carelessly.

“You know what, Antione, enough is enough. Fuck her! Get her out of here! It ain’t even worth it no more. I don’t need no heat brought to my house. This could jeopardize everything.”

“She goin’ make my money,” Antione insisted.

“Oh
Godddd hellllp me!”
I screamed. I was starting to breathe heavy. I was feeling dizzy. And the pain was excruciating. I tried to stand up, but my legs felt too heavy. I tried to use the wall to lift me off the bed.

“Money? How? Where? She is about to have a baby, Antione! And it’s a strong possibility that it’ll die in here. We don’t need no dead babies in this house. The cops’ll be all through here and for what? A grudge? You take that up with her mother at another time. Right now, you need to get her out of here.”

Antione took heed to what Butter told him. He put his arms under mine and dragged me out the room and down the steps.

I was in so much pain physically and emotionally and I could hardly talk, but I managed to tell Antione, “I swear on my brother’s grave, if I had a gun I would kill you.”

A
ntione left me out on the corner. I was leaned against a mailbox when a cab pulled over to let people out. It was a man and a woman, and when they saw me in the condition I was in they put me in the cab and told the driver to take me to a hospital. I didn’t want him to do that because of what Antione had told me about them locking me up. But I was in too much pain to argue with the people or the cabdriver. We pulled up to the Metropolitan Hospital Center in Manhattan. The cabdriver flagged down a doctor, and I was put in a wheelchair and rushed to a room. My clothes were stripped off, an IV was put in my vein, and after eleven hours of labor pains, I had my son prematurely. He only weighed a pound. He was pale yellow and tiny like a kitten. They had to hook him up to all kinds of machines immediately after he was born. I didn’t even get to hold him. They just let me glance at him, and they whisked him away. I was hurt by it at first, but it was for his safety. The doctors explained that he wasn’t able to breathe and swallow on his own and his organs weren’t fully developed, so he had to be watched closely. I couldn’t argue with that.

Between the doctors giving me so many drugs and me having a rough day from start to finish, I was extremely exhausted. I laid in the hospital bed and fell into a deep sleep. I remembered vaguely that the nurses woke me up in the middle of the night to check my blood pressure and make sure everything was okay. The next time I woke up it was the next day. I looked around the small room. I heard nurses conversing with one another out in the hall. I gently touched my stomach. I couldn’t believe I had had a baby—all by myself, with nobody there to hold my hand or tell me to push, nothing. I had to make some calls. I adjusted my pillow and sat up slowly in the bed. I leaned over and picked up the phone.

“Hello, is Jamal there?”

“No he’s not.”
Click.

That bitch,
I thought.

I dialed my mom’s house.

“Naja?”

“Yeah?” my little sister asked, obviously upset that I had woke her up.

“Naja, guess what,” I said, clearing my throat.

“What?”

“I had the baby,” I told my sister proudly.

“Angel?”

“Yeah, who you thought it was?”

“I thought you was Mommy,” my sister said.

“What, Mommy ain’t home?”

“No.”

“Where she at?”

“I don’t know. Her and Marvin went somewhere last night.”

“Where Kindle?”

“He at Aunt Jackie house. He spent the night. But anyway,” Naja grew louder. “You said you had the baby?”

“Yeah, late last night.”

“Oh, my God! Already? I thought you wasn’t due ‘til like July or August or somewhere around there.”

“He was premature.”

“Why?”

“I think it was because I been stressed lately. But they got him on these machines to help him breathe and stuff.”

“Awww, I wanna come up there and see him. It’s a boy?”

“Yeah.”

“What you name ‘im?”

“I didn’t name ‘im yet, but I’m goin’ name him Curtis Jamal.”

“Awww, baby Curt.” Naja gave my son a nickname. “What hospital you at? I’m goin’ come up there.”

“MHC,” I told her, “on First Avenue in the city.”

“Oh, okay. Can you have visitors this early?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so, but you can wait and come after school.”

“Girl, please. I ain’t goin’ to school today. I just had a nephew. That’s a off day for me.”

“Well, when you come down here, bring Mommy with you.”

“I don’t know where that chick is,” Naja said with an attitude.

“She shootin’ up again?” I asked.

“Probably so, and I ain’t chasing after no dope fiend. If I see ‘er I’ll tell ‘er where you at and she can come see you on her own. I’m ‘bout to get dressed and come down there now.”

“Oh, and Naja, if you see Jamal, tell ‘im I had the baby and tell ‘im what hospital I’m in.”

“He should be there with you. Where he at?”

“His mom trippin’. She ain’t givin’ him my calls.”

“You want me to go next door and whip on her ass for you?”

I chuckled. “No. Just tell Jamal what I told you to tell ‘im if you see ‘im.”

“All right.”

“Bye.”

I anticipated my sister coming up there to see me. In the meantime, I called the last person on my list, Elaine.

“I had a boy,” I sang as soon as I heard Elaine say hello.

“Oh, my goodness!” Elaine shouted in the phone. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you.”

“So, is he all right? It’s kind of early isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was only five and a half months. He’s okay. They got him in ICU. He still has a lot of developing to go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, when did you have him?” Elaine asked.

“Last night.”

“Um, March 26. I’m going to have to play three twenty-six,” Elaine thought aloud. “So, what hospital are you in?”

“MHC…”

I was going to give Elaine the address, but she cut me off. “In Manhattan?” she asked. “On First Avenue?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my goodness, that’s where I had Brandon at.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, child. I know exactly where you are. I’m goin’ call the babysitter and see if she can watch the kids when they get out of school. If she do, I’m goin’ come see you and the little man.”

“Aww, that would be nice.”

“What did you name ‘im?”

“Curtis Jamal, after my brother and my boyfriend,” I explained.

“Aww, that is so cute. Well listen, let me call Veronica now and see if she can watch the kids. If so, I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, Elaine.”

“All right.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone. At least I could expect two visitors that day, even though they weren’t the two most important people—my mom and Jamal. When I got off the phone, I called for the nurse so that I could see my baby. I hadn’t seen him since I glanced at him after they took him out of me. The nurse took me up to the intensive care unit. She walked me into the room where my son was. He was in an incubator with plugs attached to his tiny body. I got an eerie feeling when I looked at him, like he wasn’t mine. I didn’t know if it was because of how sick he looked or if it was the postpartum depression the nurse had briefly told me about on the way up. I couldn’t explain the feeling I got, I just knew that it wasn’t the feeling I expected to get the first time I looked at my baby. I thought I was going to feel love for my baby. But I didn’t. Truthfully, I felt sadness. I didn’t want him.

The nurse must have been able to tell that I was uncomfortable because she voluntarily started rubbing my back.

“It’s difficult to see them like this at first, I know. But it’s not as bad as it looks. Over time he’ll grow and develop and start looking like a normal, healthy baby.” She felt the need to offer an explanation.

But I wasn’t sure if that was what was bothering me. There was something else. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I told the nurse that I was finished. She escorted me back down to my room and I crawled up in the bed and cried myself to sleep.

I woke back up around nine o’clock when they brought breakfast through. I felt a little better, but I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I picked over the French toast. I did eat the little container of frosted flakes they gave me, though. I was drinking my milk out of the pint-size carton, and in walked Naja, looking like she was twenty-five instead of thirteen.

“You look all grown,” I teased.

“And you look all fat,” she teased back as she reached over to hug me.

“Why you got your cleavage all out?” I asked her, unable to help seeing her boobs popping out of the low-cut tanktop she had on.

“Don’t be hatin’,” Naja said, playfully holding her jean jacket together to cover her breasts. “So, where my nephew at? I wanna see ‘im. Who he look like? I hope he got our hair and not Jamal’s. I don’t mean to talk about ya boyfriend, but he got some nappy hair.”

“Shut up,” I whined. “Talk when you get a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I gots me a shorty,” Naja bragged. “And he got that wavy stuff.”

“You better slow down, miss. A shorty with wavy stuff will get you another shorty with wavy stuff,” I told her with a look to match my attitude.

“Anyway, where is the baby?” Naja asked, excited.

I pushed the button to call the nurse. She came in the room.

“What do you need?” she asked, chipper.

“Can I take my sister up to see the baby?”

“Oh, sure. Are you up to it, though?”

“Umm, I think so, yeah,” I gave her a half-ass answer.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I gave a more definite response. I really wasn’t ready to see him again, but Naja had come up there for that purpose, so I didn’t want to be like no.

I put on the footies and the robe they gave me, and Naja and me followed the nurse out to the elevator.

“You know what floor, right?” the nurse asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. You can go on up.”

Naja and I took the elevator up to the intensive care unit. We walked down the hall, checked in at the nurse’s station, and went into the room where my baby was.

Naja immediately put her hand over her mouth.

“Aww,” she said as tears gathered in her eyes. “He is so tiny,” she whined. “And pale,” she added. She examined him, and I kept quiet because I still felt uneasy.

Naja walked around the incubator to get a look at his face, and then she frowned and blurted out, “He look like Marvin!”

That’s what it was, I thought. That’s what was making me feel so wrong about my baby. He did resemble Marvin. I got a flashback of Marvin on top of me, and I almost passed out. I grabbed my chest and stumbled. I backed away from the incubator and left the room.

“Angel, where you goin?” Naja called out.

I ignored her. I ran down the hallway and pressed the button for the elevator. Naja was coming behind me but got stopped by a nurse who I guessed was asking her what was going on. I got on the elevator and pressed my floor number. Without thinking clearly I went into my room and took off the hospital robe and footies. I put on the jeans I had came there with, put on my sneakers, grabbed my coat, and walked out the room. I didn’t think about Naja or the nurse or anyone stopping me. My mind was on one thing and one thing only.

Outside the hospital, I got in a cab. I told him where to take me and he pulled off. I put my face in my hands and cried uncontrollably on and off the whole ride. When the cab reached my mom’s house I told him to wait there and I would come back out and pay him, but I guessed he felt sorry for me because he told me not to worry about it. I got out the cab and walked up on my mom’s porch. The front door was wide open. “Make It Last Forever” was playing on the radio. I walked in the house, and my mom was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette and bopping her head to the music. Marvin was stretched out with his head in my mom’s lap. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep because he was moving to the music, too. They looked like a small part of the
Good Timed
painting that a lot of black people had in their homes. They seemed so happy and so in love. They were at peace. For a moment I wanted to leave them that way, but my mind was moving quicker than my heart, and I reacted with the same speed.

“YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD!” I yelled, abruptly spoiling my mom and Marvin’s mood.

“ANGEL!” my mom snapped out of her trance and yelled back at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Marvin jumped up.

I slammed my mom’s door. My heart was beating overtime. I charged at Marvin, plunging at him with my closed fists.

“ANGEL! STOP!” my mom shouted as she struggled to grab me and pull me off of Marvin.

“You fuckin’ drug-addict bitch! You gave me a baby! You raped me and raped me and gave me a fuckin’ baby! You low-life! Fuckin’ dope shooter!” I screamed every name in the book at Marvin while my mom held me back.