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“Yes, we still having this conversation, man. If you haven’t realized, you deciding to be spiteful and messy is the reason why you haven’t even gotten a chance to hold your grandchild yet. It’s only so much disrespect that a nigga is going to take from your ass. Remember who pays your bills, and the next time you converse with that bitch, ask yourself where your loyalty lies. Kenyatta is a fuckin’ enemy, and I don’t fuck with people who fraternize with the fuckin’ enemy. Remember that the next time you ask to see your grandchild,” and with that, I hung up the phone on her ass.
No, I didn’t find joy nor pleasure in talking to my ole girl like that over the phone, but she just brought parts out of me that nobody else could. I felt like she didn’t even try to give my wife a chance. Right off the bat, she just didn’t like her. It wasn’t that I was choosing my wife over my mama, but if the shoe was on the other foot and Mahogany was constantly disrespecting my ole girl, I would have checked her about it too.
I threw my phone in my back pocket and made sure that all the lights were off downstairs before I finally went back up. I prayed, asking God to allow Jamaria to sleep in her own damn bed tonight because her mama and I needed to talk. This conversation was long overdue. I bit my bottom lip, being as quiet and as gentle as possible as I laid Jamaria down in her crib. She stirred a little bit, but I gently patted her, and pretty soon, she was stretched out and gently snoring. I creeped out of the room, closing the door behind me.
We had the baby monitor in our bedroom, so we would know if she woke up. All I needed was an hour. That was enough time for me to talk to Mahogany, take a shower, and smoke a blunt.
When I made it inside the bedroom, Mahogany was sitting in the middle of the bed wearing one of her Victoria secret pajama sets, and there were tissues in her hands that she was using to wipe her face. When she saw me come in the room, she quickly tried to get herself together, but I’d already seen her. I could smell her and tell that she’d showered, and because her hair was wet, I knew that she’d washed her hair too.
I stood by the door with my arms folded across my chest as I just watched her, wondering what the hell was wrong with her now. She wouldn’t even look at me. Her eyes were everywhere in the room but on me. Light sniffles could be heard from her side of the bed as she rocked herself back and forth.
“What’s wrong with you, Mahogany?” I asked, walking closer to her on the bed.
She just shook her head no as fresh tears ran down her face. This girl was going to drive herself fuckin’ crazy with all this damn emotional ass shit. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive to her feelings at all, but damn. At the end of the day, this was some shit that I couldn’t judge her on because us men would never know what it feels like to have a baby, and we would never know what it feels like after, so I couldn’t speak on it, but I just didn’t assume that it would be this bad. She wasn’t even this emotional when she was pregnant.
“Fuck is you crying for then if nothing is wrong with you? You going to do this shit every night? Baby, I’m trying like a motha fucka to respect your postpartum, but you ain’t making shit easy on a nigga, yo. We got a baby that’s crying damn near all hours of the day, but in my eyes, when she’s crying, it’s either one of three things; her diaper needs to be changed, she’s hungry, or she’s sleepy. When it comes to you, I feel like the shit is harder because it’s one out of one million things. What you crying for, shorty? The baby is sleeping. There’s nothing else for you to do but to go to sleep your damn self. I got her. I already told you that I wasn’t going in the store tomorrow, so I’ll be up with her tonight,” I let her know.
She released her left hand, which I had just now noticed was closed, and that’s when I saw that she was holding hair in her hands. I didn’t even know where that shit came from. Then again, it was the same sandy brown, curly hair that was on her head. I realized that it must have come out when she took a shower. She moved her hands through her hair, and that’s when she showed me the few patches that had come out.
“I washed my hair when I was taking a shower, and it just started coming out in chunksss… I knew women suffered hair loss after having a baby, but I was hoping that I was one of those women who it didn’t happen to. I’m not trying to run you crazy or run myself crazy for that matter, but everything is happening to me all at once… I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’m going to do better,” she said, all the while, she was still crying.
I stood over her and used the back of my hands to wipe her face.
“Where your brush and shit at?” I asked.
“In the bathroom. Under the counter,” she said, followed by a hiccup.
I walked into the bathroom and looked under the cabinet then I came back with her big comb for her thick ass hair, her brush, and some of the hair moisturizer that I saw her use on her hair all the time.
“If you didn’t tell me that your hair had come out, I wouldn’t have even known. Let me help you out. Daddy got you, alright?” I told her, and she nodded.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was even doing. The most I ever had to do to Mahogany’s hair w
as give her scalp massages because she loved that shit or hold that motha fucka up whenever she was giving me head, but that was it. Every time I combed through it and some hair fell out, I stashed the shit in my pocket because I didn’t want her to get even more emotional. My large hands were able to brush and comb her hair up and put it in one of those buns that she would put her hair in at night whenever she went to sleep.
“You like it?” I asked her after I pulled her hands up and walked her over to the floor mirror.
With a small smile on her face, she nodded her head up and down, letting me know that she liked it. I mean, it didn’t look as good as hers would have looked, but it was good for me to have done it.
“Come outside on the balcony with me. I think you need to hit the blunt as much as I do,” I said.
I walked over to my dresser for my stash, and then I went to the glass sliding door that we had in our bedroom and pulled it back. I took a seat on one of the chairs, and it wasn’t long before Mahogany came outside to join me, this time with her house shoes on and a blanket wrapped around her body. She took a seat on my lap and curled her body against mine, lying sideways on me as she rested her head on my chest.
I rolled up the blunt, doing it fast because I needed this shit. For the first five minutes or so, we didn’t even say anything to each other. We let the wind do all the talking. Once I’d rolled a perfect blunt, I lit it and took a long pull from it. I passed it to my wife, who took a long pull but then started choking. I patted her pack, and when I tried to take the blunt from her, she shook her head no.
“I haven’t smoked in ten months. Give me a minute to get my lungs in order,” she said after she finished coughing.
“You fuckin’ up a perfectly rolled blunt. Hit the shit right or don’t hit that motha fucka at all,” I said, and she hit the blunt again, but this time, she wasn’t choking and shit. When she finished, she passed it back to me, and her head went right back on my chest.
“This brings back so many memories of when you and I first met. Remember when we would smoke in my room? And the time I cooked for you the first time, and you made me eat it because you thought that I was going to poison your shit-talking ass,” she said, making me laugh.
“Hell yeah, I remember that shit. I got some of the best pussy from you back in your old room when you had that weed in your system. Look at us now, fuckin’ married with a damn child. Who would have ever guessed that?” I asked.
Keeping it one hundred, I wanted to fuck Mahogany at first sight, and she knew that, so I don’t know why she was looking at me with those big ass eyes of hers as if this was new news to her. I saw her lips, and I knew that she could give good head. It wasn’t until I actually got to know her as a person that she became more to me than someone I wanted to use just to bust a nut.
“You didn’t see it happening one day? I mean, nigga, what the fuck did you think of me when you first saw me?” she asked, removing her head from my chest and cocking it to the side as she looked at me.
I laughed at the tone of her question as I took another pull from the blunt. She loved playing like she was fuckin’ slow. We’d had this conversation numerous times, and each time, she swore that it was something more than just sex when we saw each other. The level of sex appeal that we both ignited when we first saw each other was through the fuckin’ roof.
