She looked pissed. “What? You still haven’t found a job? You want money to buy food? Don’t you have a food stamp card? Yes you do, I got it for you. Listen, I got you a car and I got you some money, lined you up with a job, look, cousin, I am family, yes blood is thicker than water, but god the fuck damn Niggah get off your ass and help your motherfucking self. I am not the ATM machine!”
And she bammed the phone down.
“Damn, girl, that phone call was intense.”
“Girl, my cousins have been living in Miami for a few months. One had a job, lost it and the other just gets on my nerves.”
I couldn’t keep my mind off Thomas.
I covered my face and leaned against the wall, shuddering. She went on and on about her cousins, the hell with her cousins.
I didn’t know what it was but some unknown force pulled me off the wall...
Took my hand...
And before I knew it I silenced Georgia when I opened her door, walked down the hallway, to the guest room, opened the door, smiling at the black carpet, the Bob Marley photos…
I lay in the bed, rolling across it, rubbing my pussy until I shuddered.I was crying for Thomas, wanting him. I was crying so hard I came on myself just thinking about him...
My body was on fire, trying to find the flames of finality so I could have a fulfilling relationship, but that would never be, could never be. Thomas was out there, somewhere, going through a divorce.
He was probably doing what his brother did: fuck all the girls, kiss them and make them cry.
I was crying, and he kissed me from head to toe.
“Princess! Girl, get over that man!”
I stood up, wrapping the sheets around me, like a cloak that protected me and my baby…my subconscious revealed the carefully placed memories in this room.
I rushed over and closed the bathroom door, didn’t want to remember Ed’s memories from the toilet and beyond.
“Why did you come to this room, girl?”
Georgia was carefully observing me, not getting the big picture.
I looked at her with a sweet smile. “I love this room.”
She studied me carefully, looking around, trying to figure it out. “I see that, girl. What’s going on?”
“I made my baby in this room.”
She looked me up and down, taking the sheets from me and lifting my shirt.
“OH MY GOD! YOU’RE PREGNANT!”
I hugged her. “Yes!” Then I fell silent, because I didn’t want to say the words, I didn’t want to say, “And I’ll be raising my child alone. Another black single mother in America to get frowned down on talked about and ridiculed.”
“How many months are you?” she asked, in a state of disbelief.
“A little over two months.”
She pushed me on the bed, got on top of me, playfully and tried to tickle me. This was my girl; we always wrestled and had fun.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”
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