Ghetto Love Bird

Spaghetti?

I spent the next few days thinking about Sorayah. She was a child, so of course she apologized, just hoping to ease her guilt and I did the same too, except nothing happened with my guilt.

I started paying extra attention to her, listening to her carefully, always making sure that she felt heard, but the conversation we were supposed to have, I was avoiding it.

I hadn’t seen Roman since that day and I don’t blame him for skipping out while he could. He probably thought I was crazy.

But why should I care what he thought? I didn’t.

I know Tera was also itching to ask about the entire situation but it was still very sensitive for me, I mostly kept to myself for the remainder of the week.

“You’ve been in the dumps since lunch at my house,” Tera folds her arm as I usher Sorayah inside.

“Have I? I haven’t.”

She rolls her eyes, “you can’t fool me. I’ve knowing you for over 15 years. You don’t wanna talk about it, fine, but we’re going out.”

“Tera,” I sigh, “this isn’t the best time.”

“I don’t care. You’re not doing yourself any good by sulking around. You’re not doing Sorayah any good either.”

“And a night of partying isn’t going to fix that!” I snap and she raises both hands.

“Things are picture perfect at your house, Tera, so you can –,”

“b***h Imma stop you right there before anything that comes out of that rude little mouth of yours ruins our friendship.”

I huff, crossing my arms and she narrows my eyes.

“Get yourself together, Honey, before you explode.”

Tera eyes me for a few more seconds before she leaves, slamming her car door on the way.

With pursed lips, I turn around to head back into my apartment when another car pulls up in my driveway. It wasn’t one that I had seen before, so I presumed that it wasn’t for me.

“Yo, Honey!”

Well I guess it was.

I turn around and find Rumico and Oman walking up to me. Rumico, better known as Rico, was the East’s side’s gang leader. He was a b***h, really, at least that’s what I thought. He beat on young men that were dumb enough to try to go to him for recruiting, he beat on women, he’s never fought anyone his size, and he can’t dance unless he has his crew with him. He was a walking joke, and I have no diea how he kept up the war with the West side.

“What’s good?”

I don’t say anything, as these weren’t people I normally fraternize with, and I wouldn’t start today.

“What? What is it that you want, Rico?”

“Tsk, so hostile. I can’t come say hello?”

“The f**k you wanna tell me hello for,” I narrow my eyes, shifting my weight onto one foot, “you ain’t ever come to say hello before.”

“Aight then,” he eyes me from head to toe before obnoxiously sucking his teeth, “Word on the street is you messing with the oppositions.”

I raise an eyebrow, the corner of my lips lifting into a smirk.

“Ayo, f**k this b***h smiling for?” Oman takes a step forward but an annoyed Rico roughly pushes him back.

Rico continues to scowl at him, and Oman just averts his eyes, dropping his head to the ground.

“Even if I was, Rumico, I don’t see how that would be . . . your business.” I fold my arms, narrowing my eyes at him and he chuckles.

“You better not be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me hoe,” he says stepping closer. I raise both of my eyebrows, tilting my head at him and refusing to move.

“Or else what? What’re you gonna do? You gone beat me –“

“I see you’ve grown up then, Honey,” he grins, “look at you, you big now.”

“Mmm.”

“Don’t bring no niggas around my child.”

“Your child?? Your chi - Nigga don’t mention my child. You were a sperm donor you nasty, pathetic excuse for a man. Imma bring whoever the f**k I want wherever the f**k I want to bring them and it ain’t s**t you can do about it, b***h. Now don’t ever come up in my face like this again, matter of fact, don’t come up in my yard again or we gon’ to have a real problem.”

Rico obviously didn’t like the way I spoke to him, otherwise he wouldn’t be huffing as if he was hyperventilating. I left him standing there, Oman mumbling something under his breath.

#

“I want . . . pizza.”

“You had pizza last night, Sorayah.”

“Well, I want McDonald’s.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you eat too much fast food.”

“What should I eat then?”

“Eat some salad.”

“Salad is for goats and cows,” she says, walking away, “like you.”

“Little girl, I will –, “She takes off into her grandmother’s room, laughing a fit and I let out a loud sigh.

This s**t is not for the week, I mean, what if that was my 13th reason.

We were trying to determine something for dinner, and it just seemed there was nothing to eat. It’s literally the same food every day.

My doorbell rang, and I glare at the door. What is it with today? Were people in a visiting mood? Did they ask me if I’d like to be visited?

Standing, I make my way to the door and look through the peep hole.

Roman?

My stomach flutters, and I look around quickly to make sure that my surroundings were clean.

What the f**k was he doing?

I look down at myself to find that I was in a camisole and some Nike shorts that were a bit too small. But, he’s seen me in less than those.

I pull open the door, and look up at him. It’s like I felt relieved as he smiled down at me. It was a sheepish smile, as if he was nervous. I hope he was, because I was sweating cold buckets.

“Hey,” he greets, a box of pizza in his hands.

“Oh boy,” I sigh as I look at it.

“What?” He frowns.

“Is that for me?” I ask him and he nods.

“And Sorayah.”

“I literally just told her she can’t have any pizza,” I whine and he cringes.

“Sorry about that,”

“Its fine,” I let out a little breath, “at least I don’t have to cook.”

“Thanks,” I take it from his hands and rest it on the table before calling on Sorayah.

I step outside to be with him, shutting the door behind me.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” I chuckle, but realistically, I wasn’t joking.

“Wow, I’m guessing you were starting to miss me?”

“Not really,” I lie, “just an observation. I did go bat s**t crazy on my child . . . so.”

“Stop,” he takes one of my hands, “don’t do that. You disciplined your child for lying, and that’s very important. Maybe you wanna adjust your methods, or work it out differently and that’s okay. Trust me, you’ll have more than enough times to exercise great parenting.”

I was still stuck on his warm, clean, calloused hand on mine, but his advice was . . .

“Thanks,” I reply softly, instinctively shifting my bonnet.

“I was thinking of you,” he murmurs, looking down at my hand.

“You have my number though,” I tell him.

“I ain’t know if you wanted me to call though, you a funny woman, mamas.”

Mamas.

“I guess I am,” I let out a little laugh, and a silence falls between us.

“How you doing though? What’s been going on?”

I blow out a breath.

“Let’s go over there,” he moves me to the little outside bench I had, and I happily follow. We have a seat.

“Nothing really, it’s just this situation with Sorayah, and the daddy thing. Tera thinks there’s more to it, and honestly, so do I. But what - how do I talk to her about it? I’m scared that she asks about her dad and I can’t – I won’t know what to say.”

Roman continued to hold my hand as I vent, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I know I need to talk to her, because she’s getting older, and the older she gets the more she’s going to realize things.”

“Just tell her who her dad is.”

“You weren’t listening or something? I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Because he’s a deadbeat? I know you feel like you need to protect Sorayah, but I assure you that honesty is going to be the best option in this case.”

“How can you assure me, Roman, do you have kids?”

“No  but –“

“Exactly,” he shuts his lips, nodding slowly.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. You know best.”

I let out a loud sigh, leaning back into the chair and closing my eyes.

“I don’t know s**t . . .  I’m sorry for snapping at you. I feel like I’m going to make a mistake with her. I - I don’t want to mess her up, Roman. I’m scared.”

“I understand, but you’re her mother. I know you’re scared, parenthood can’t be easy. Just speak from the heart . . .  I know it sounds a bit cliché but I think it’s the best thing.”

I ponder on it for a moment before nodding.

“I think you’re right.”

Roman doesn’t say much afterwards, we kinda just sit outside and watch the stars. I felt like I was a child all over again, seeking just a moment of silence.

“What’s a man gotta do to be alone with you again? I gotta pay?”

I roll my eyes at him, only slightly amused, “duh.”

“Let me take you out, mamas. What you like? You like spaghetti?”

“I love Spaghetti,” I tilt my head with a little smile and he nods.

“Let’s go eat some spaghetti then.”