Page 52 of Love Delayed
He threw back his drink and refilled his glass again before taking a seat on the sofa a few inches from where I sat.
“Word is DeSoto’s lady told yo’ man’s mother that she saw you with me at the shop not wearing your ring and that you were tipsy and acting like a ho,” he said bluntly. “Then she made some calls, and niggas started asking questions. Long story short, money talks, and she had all she needed to get the scoop on you and threaten you to stay away from her son. Oh, and she apparently told you about other shit I’m into, which prompted your disrespectful ass visit yesterday,” he added and took a sip with his evil eye glued on me waiting for an answer.
I wanted to spit in his face and then slap the shit out of him.
“Disrespect? Are you kidding me right now, Rush? I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do to secure a bag and a better future for us, including fucking lame-ass bitches like Marcus. How did you expect me to react, catching you dicking down whoever the bitch was? And you want to come here spitting the word disrespect at me like I was the one caught fuckin’ another man. Da fuck outta here wit’ dat!” I clapped back.
How dare this piece of shit, so-called hustler comeup in here with the bullshit.
“Aye, bring all that shit down, El! You act like you don’t get it. I ain’t slangin’ no fuckin’ dope like I did back in the day, so how do you think I’m able to finance all this shit? I put your ass through school to give us a leg up because it all can’t be a scam if we tryin’ to get at that serious dough. I mean, you look good and all, but let’s be real. Yo’ pussy ain’t the best, baby girl. So, I got us this far with what I do,” he said, and that reality cut me deep.
“Fuck you, Rush!” I snapped.
“No, fuck you, El. Understand that I came by here because you truly mean something to me. I know shit went left, but I’m not just trying to kick yo’ ass to the streets. Now if you good on yo’ fuckin’ own, tell a nigga, and I’ll be the fuck up outta this bitch in two seconds flat. Your lil’ business ain’t flourishing, so we have to regroup if you still want to stay on. I’ll let that bullshit you did yesterday slide, and we can get back to what we do, which means finding the next simp-ass bitch. If that’s the plan, it means we’ll have to relocate ah’gin. You already know the fuckin’ drill, so what’s it gon’ be, El?”
I sat and let his words sink in. Feeling like I had no choice, I decided to tell him the entire truth.
“I’m pregnant,” I said softly.
“Ex-fuckin-cuse me,” he said, leaning in closer to me.
“I’m pregnant, Rush,” I told him, speaking up so he could hear me better. “I found out at the hospital. I’m approximately nine or ten weeks.”
He sat in silence for a minute or two, then looked at me and flashed a smile that had to be of the devil.
“We got him, El. We got his ass!” he shouted, then stood and walked over to the bar to pour himself another one. “Oh, we still gonna hit them pockets, baby. You just put us back in the Marcus Coleman race. Fuck his momma and what she thought. A fuckin’ baby is better than marriage. That is eighteen years of guaranteed child support payments. You did good, baby. You did real good,” he said, grinning.
I put my head down and slowly shook it. This negro was staying true to who he was because immediately, my baby became his cash cow. Little did he know, the joke was on him, and I took pleasure in what I said to him next.
“Sorry to burst your money dreams, Rush,” I said, standing up from the sofa, “but this bundle isyours. It looks like you’re the one stuck with me. Oh, and as you said before, my store ain’t flourishing, so I’ll need your monetary assistance during my pregnancy and for the next eighteen years after our bundle of joy arrives,” I said and headed toward the kitchen.
He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before joining me in the kitchen. I listened as he did what was second nature to him––thinking of how he could scam another man instead of finally being a man himself.
Hoping to escape his babbling, I went to my bedroom, but as my luck would have it, he followed me there instead of just leaving out the front door and locking it behind him. After an hour of listening to his bizarre ideas of how we could still get child support from Marcus, I fell asleep on him. When I woke up, he was still there, sleeping on the other side of my bed.
I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I returned to the bedroom, I looked at Rush lying there with his mouth open, deep in sleep, snoring like a fucking grizzly bear. The sight of him now disgusted me. Not wanting to be in the same room with him, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and went downstairs.
Once I reached the living room, I flopped on my sofa and reflected on my current situation. I tried hard to fight back the tears that welled in my eyes, but I was unsuccessful as they spilled over and ran down my cheeks. Life had just slammed into the middle of my chest, and it made me feel as though I was suffocating. I was stuck in a toxic cycle with Rush and had no idea how I would get out of it. Being pregnant only made it more complicated, and I felt like I didn’t have many options. Then her words rang in my ear:If you’re mixed upin some shit you can’t get out of, letme know, and I’ll help.
It was a long shot, but I needed help. I had to get away from Rush. I didn’t want to raise my child in the environment Rush had to offer us. I didn’t want to keep conning and scheming men for shit that wasn’t rightfully mine. I would not be that type of role model.
Picking up my phone, I sent her a text.
Me:I’m mixed up in something I can’t get out of. Please, I’m begging you to help me.
I added several praying hand emojis, hoping she would take my cry out for help seriously and not think it wasn’t another “act” I was performing. Then I hit send. While I sat waiting for a response, Rush woke up, came into the living room, and sat down next to me.
Pulling me in for a tight hug, he kissed my lips and said, “If I don’t figure out this baby situation in the next couple of days, you know what’s going to have to happen, right?”
Confused, I asked, “What are you talking about, Rush?”
“A baby right now ain’t gon’ work, El. So, we may be visiting a clinic soon,” he said and made his exit.
No, I didn’t want to co-parent with him, but getting rid of my kid was an absolute no. I got up to lock the door and slid down the wall until I was on the floor, crying and repenting. I prayed hard for God to save me from my situation. I stayed there on the floor until my ass was numb and then pushed myself to my feet. Then, my phone, which was in my robe pocket, alerted me that I had received a text.
Mrs. C:If you’re serious, I’ll meet you at your boutique on Wednesday. If you’re not, delete my number and never contact me again.
Me:I’m very serious. See you Wednesday, and thank you!