Bad as in Good (23 page)

I helped her down. When her feet hit the floor, she leaned on my chest as she regained strength in her knees. She whispered, “I love you, Riq-ee. I want us to work again.” When she kissed me again, I didn't pull away like I wanted to. I kissed her back and licked the sweat that dripped down her face. I didn't want to, but I was looking forward to round two.

Deja hunched down and grabbed her phone from her pocket. I draped my arms around her waist and kissed her shoulders. As she scrolled through her phone, she tilted her head back. She exhaled as I felt her melt in my arms. We stood there in the moment; two seconds later, I peeked over her shoulder and glanced at her phone.
She opened one of her text logs. I ain't wanna read her texts, but the name of the sender caught my attention.
Traevon
. The name looked familiar. I stopped kissing her neck as I tried to remember the emotion associated with the name Traevon. All I could think of was rage. I read the text in her inbox. “I know you're mad. I was wrong for fuckin' yo' homegirl. But I wanna kiss n' make up, fuckin' ‘til the sun cum up like u know we can.” Yep, rage was the fitting emotion.
Fucking
Traevon was the nigga she fucked. Her lover. Two years later, and Traevon had mistreated her like she did me, and they were still fuckin' and lovin'. I was now the man who intruded on the relationship she built with another man. I took a deep breath and let her go.

Deja looked back down at her phone and turned to face me. “Riq…”

I put up my hand to stop her. “Don't worry 'bout it.” I picked up her clothes and handed them to her. After she got dressed, she put away her phone and rushed to hold my neck in her arms. I pulled her away and shook my head. “It's cool, Deja. You left me for him, and now you come here he's doin' you wrong.”

Deja shook her head like she was having a seizure. “No…no, baby that's not true. It's you I wanna be with…
you
. I never left you. You kicked me out. You left me.”

I walked back to my door and opened it. She stared at me and wiped her infamous tears. I turned my head and stared at the hallway. “You gotta get outta here, Deja. I can't let you keep doin' this shit to me. Run back to him.”

“Riq, please. Don't do me like this.” She ran up to me in an attempt to kiss me like we used to. I moved my face away and frowned.

“Deja!” I snapped. “Go. Now.” I let the door go and walked into my bedroom, shuttin' the door behind me. I wasn't gonna let her
stand there giving me those puppy dog eyes. I needed her out of my place, out of my face, and back to the lover that repaid her the same heartache she paid me. There was silence for a solid five minutes before I heard my front door slam shut. I took a deep breath and walked back into my living room. I was alone again and unremorseful about the experience I shared with a woman I once needed. I locked the door and stared at my empty living room. I cleared my throat and dropped my shoulders. It was clear now. I ran from love with the failure I experienced with Deja. However, more sure now than ever, I was free from her. Free to find a woman that truly did deserved my time, whenever that time was.

•  •  •

That was until I saw Simoné standin' at my door. Her presence at my door wasn't what took me by surprise. What really took me by surprise was the glow she had. Her big round eyes covered by her long, black bangs, like when I first met her. This time, though, when I looked into her eyes, I saw more than anger. I couldn't shoo her away as easily as I did before. I would have to stop looking at her eyes and pay more attention to her stomach, which stuck out further than when I last saw her. Her stomach was draped in a long black maxi dress like she was in mourning. I stood in my hallway with my keys in my hand as I breathed deeply. I may have wanted to walk away and never look back, but I wouldn't be the son my mother raised. Eventually, I was going to have to face the reality that there was a pregnant woman waiting for me at my door.

As I walked toward her, everything moved in slow motion while I considered numerous ways to avoid this from actually happening. In light of recent events, I felt the baby prolly wasn't even mine. But I couldn't turn her away and then find out the baby really was
mine. I never really thought about fathering a baby, but when I did, I would be there to handle my business. When I reached my door, I kept my eyes on her eyes, longing eyes that prayed I wouldn't betray her like she did me. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

Grudgingly, I asked, “You wanna come inside?”

She nodded and exhaled. When she walked in, I closed the door behind us. I couldn't help but think about the idea of running back into my G and driving off, anything but manning up to my responsibilities, especially if they were even mine to face. “How'd you find out where I stayed?”

She held her stomach and shrugged her shoulders. “Yo' mama told me. It wasn't easy getting' it out of her. At first, I thought she gave me the wrong address.”

I rubbed my eyeballs and threw my keys on the counter. “As bad as my mama cursed yo' triflin' ass out, I'm surprised she gave you the right address.” I surveyed her stomach and sighed. “How you feelin'?”

“Tired, Riq. I called you.”

“Been busy.”

“More like been avoidin'. Why couldn't you pick up?”

“Don't play dumb, Simoné. You know why.”

“It's yours.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?”

“I'm six-and-a-half months' pregnant. I wasn't wit' nobody else around that time.”

“I'm supposed to believe that?”

“It's the truth.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean comin' from yo' mouth?”

She lowered her eyes and rubbed her stomach. She sat down on one of my bar stools and exhaled. “I took a DNA test.”

“The baby's not even here.”

“I can still take a DNA test before the baby's born. I know I fucked up, but I knew this baby was yours. That's why I stole one of your dirty razors and told the doctors to test my unborn baby. I need you here wit' me.”

“How'd you steal one of my razors?”

“After what happened between you and me, I found out I was pregnant. I knew this baby was yours, but I knew you wouldn't believe me.” She stood up from my stool and walked over to me. “Before you moved here, I used my key to sneak back into your old place, and I grabbed one of your razors from the shower to take the test.”

I grabbed the back of my head and blew out cold air. “Simoné, you bringin' a lot to my doorstep.”

“I know.” She wiped the tears that trickled down her cheekbones. “I know, and I'm sorry, but this baby is yours and I need you.”

I shook my head. “Fuck,” I said as I walked to my couch. I sat down and rubbed the back of my neck. “Shit…”

After taking a deep breath, she wiped her face. “I'm tired, Riq. I'm tired all the time. My body's changing. My hormones are everywhere. I'm hot all the fucking time. I'm throwing up in the morning, afternoon, and evening. Morning sickness my ass.” She squeezed her hands. “And since baby has my heart rate up, I'm always tryna catch my breath. Why couldn't you pick up the damn phone, Riq? I've been doing this for the past six months by myself. If you don't wanna be with me, fine. But I need you here for your son.”

I sat up. In her stomach, there was a son. Supposedly,
my
son. “How am I supposed to believe you, Simoné?”

“Believe the facts, Riq.” Simoné opened her purse and pulled out some papers. Handing me the papers, she smiled. “I knew he was yours.”

Grabbing the papers, I read it out loud. “Probability of Paternity, 99.999%.”

I looked up at Simoné, who had a big smile on her face. “I told you.”

“Still, Simoné. I can't believe half the shit that leaves your mouth. How do I even know that you really used my DNA to test that baby? Shit, you could've only tested that foul dude you had in my house that day. Because you show me some papers, I'm supposed to automatically believe this baby is mine?” I threw the papers on the couch next to me and sighed.

“What else do you want me to do? I know he's yours.”

“I don't!”

“I'll take the test again. Gimme a toothbrush, another razor, a hairbrush, anything. I'll prove it to you, again.”

“You ain't prove shit this time.”

“You really think I would go through all this to lie to you?”

I cut my eyes at her and snarled. “Are you serious? You lied to my face so many fucking times, I can't even be sure that you're even really pregnant.”

“Give me a fucking DNA sample, Tariq! I'm not gonna let you call me liar when I'm standing here carrying your damn child. If you don't believe me, take the damn test, but don't sit in my face and call me a liar.”

“I will.”

Simoné's chest rose and fell as her hands rattled. As I watched her body shake, I took a deep breath and turned my head. I couldn't deny that the possibility of me having a son somewhat excited me. At some point in my life, I wanted a mini-me. I wanted the opportunity to bring life into this world. The only downside to it all was that I had to share it with Simoné. I may not have wanted to be with her, but I wanted to be there for my son, if in fact he really was mine.

“If this baby really is mine, I wanna be there for you, Simoné.”

“You sho' ain't acting like it.”

“How'd you expect me to act? This the first time I've seen you since I put you out my house.”

Simoné gritted her teeth as she placed her hand on her chest. I could tell her heart beat faster as she processed things. “Tariq, I really can't handle all this right now.”

I rubbed my forehead and shrugged my shoulders. “Come sit next to me.”

She sat down next to me and shuffled through her purse. She pulled out a few sonogram pictures. “I came straight here after my doctor's appointment today. They say I have high blood pressure. I been tryna keep it under control, but I can't keep doing this all by myself.” Handing me the pictures, Simoné breathed deeply and relaxed her shoulders. “They confirmed the sex about a month ago, and I've been meaning to show you the pictures.” Simoné pointed at a spot in the picture and said, “That's his…well, you know, that's how they know he's a boy.”

“Damn.” The thought of having a son was a lot to take in when two hours ago I was thinkin' 'bout orderin' a pizza and watching ESPN.

“I know this is a lot, Tariq. I would've texted you, but I wanted to tell you in person. I knew you wouldn't believe me unless I showed you proof. I'm not doing this alone, Riq.” She grabbed my hand and placed it on her stomach. I rubbed her stomach and stared into her eyes, remembering the feelings I once had for her. Then, I remembered how things ended.

I pulled my hand away and shook my head. “No, Simoné. This don't mean shit about you and me. I'll be here for…my son, if he's mine, but that's it.”

We sat quietly for a while. Under her breath she muttered, “I need a place to stay.”

I shot up from my seat and walked toward the front door. After finding out about my son, she had the nerve to ask me for a place to stay. “Simoné, I can't do this.”

She propped herself off the couch while holding her stomach and grabbing my coffee table for support. “Riq, I lost my job. I was sick all the time, showin' up late and missin' work. And soon, I couldn't keep up wit' rent. I got evicted. I have nowhere else to go.”

“What about yo' mama's house?”

“My mama has a one bedroom that she shares with her boyfriend and his two kids. I can't stay there.”

“I can't have you staying here. I kicked you out and I ain't lettin' you back in.”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go, Riq? You want me to live on the streets? Fine, I'll sleep in the gutter right outside yo' fuckin' building and you can see my face when you walk out the door every morning. That way, yo' son can know that his daddy ain't care about his mama enough to give her a bed to sleep on.”

I laughed. It was the type of laugh I laughed whenever I was pissed and couldn't pick the best emotion to express. I was fucked. I thought I had moved on, but here was Simoné yankin' me ten steps backward. “What about yo' girls? They can't give you a couch to sleep on?”

“Riq…”

“Simoné, you gotta go somewhere else. At least fo' tonight. I can't deal wit' all this right now. We goin' have to talk about this in the mornin' o' something. My head is spinnin'.” I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of faucet water. Gulping it down, I realized that I hadn't offered a pregnant woman something to drink. I took a deep breath and said, “You thirsty?”

She shook her head and walked to the kitchen. “I'll leave, but I'm gonna call you first thing in the morning.”

I didn't respond. I poured another glass and stared at the floor. Simoné walked out the door and left me alone wit' my thoughts—loud, echoing thoughts that made me wish I hadn't come home.

•  •  •

Fuck.
We took another DNA test and surprisingly confirmed that I was the father of Simoné's baby. So, Simoné moved in. I tried every alternative I could find before finally agreeing. Simoné and I were back under the same roof, and I hated every moment of it. Even though I made it clear that she was not my girl, in her head, we were workin' things out. I would look at her and see that shower scene. I spent more time at work and less time alone with her and my weariness. The intern moved on, making it safe to spend late nights in my office workin' on excuses to stay away from home. With Simoné there, I could barely call it
home
anyway.

Tonight I had no work, and if I stayed at the job, I was technically trespassing. I begrudgingly drove to my condo, a home that I at one point happily called my own. I contemplated five different ways out before gettin' home. They all failed. I still made it home. I unlocked my door and walked in to find Simoné crying over a stack of papers at my breakfast bar. I sighed and closed the door behind me.