“Six months ago, Dad.”
“Who is he?”The man all over the news Obasi.“Does he have a career?”Yup. A professional fuckin’ thief.“Has he proposed?”Yeah, right. He probably wants nothing to do with me. “Where is he and why isn’t he here with you?”Exactly where I put him, the county jail.
Telling my parents the truth about Black would only produce one thing and that was disappointment. Then again, I truly didn’t care what their thoughts were of him. I’d grown to love him in the most unethical way. I was sure many would assume I was crazy and emotionally desperate for love but that wasn’t the case at all.
I thought long and hard about the attachment I developed for him and denied my feelings several times. Somewhere over the course of the past six months, I accepted those three days as an altering experience. Nothing about me was the same after meeting Black and I didn’t want it to be. I’d become a stalker of his if I was being honest. Every day I was looking his name up thinking something changed. He was missed and I didn’t deny it.
“You want the truth or something to satisfy your ears?” I questioned. Hell, I was still deciding on whether they could handle the truth. They were so judgmental at times.
“Well, the truth would be nice, Che-Che. We didn’t raise you to lie to us,” my mother chimed.
Talking to them about marriage and children was like talking to a priest damn near. They were strict and they had rules. Being Nigerian American didn’t change the fact that they came straight from the motherland. Kids out of wedlock were frowned uponbut The Afor’s had been a citizen of America all my life. There was no telling what was about to leave their lips.
“Okay, you might want to take a seat then. It’s a lot to reveal.”
“Cheyonne, what is going on?” my mother asked wearing a concerned look. She was going to worry no matter what I said. All she saw was her daughter pregnant and needing guidance.
My mother sat next to me while my father remained seated. He wanted understanding and I was taking my precious time to give it. I wanted to laugh, but I was sure he’d be more upset than anything.
Truth it is.
“You remember that shooting that happened at the mall a few months back?” They both nodded with my father taking steps closer. The look on his face said it all. He was going to hate this either way it went. “That day I ran into a guy in the parking deck. I don’t know what made him hide in my automobile, but he did. We ended up back at my place by demand and by that time, I’d entered an episode. My fibromyalgia had cut up real bad. Any who, he helped me for those three days I was down. He was hauled away in the wee hours of the night when I called the cops. I assumed some things and he was charged with the shooting and all kinds of shit. The kidnapping is real which is why I avoided you all for so long. I was depressed, confused, angry, sad… I needed a minute to bounce back to Cheyonne before I could face you.”
“You said it was a misunderstanding when we asked why you were plastered all over the news. Cheyonne, were you raped? Did that man take advantage of you knowing you couldn’t defend yourself? Oh my God. Is this baby the result of that?” My mother had tears streaming down her face with sadness in her eyes. She was hurting for me. Thank God, I’d cried enough behind it already and could finally smile.
“Baby girl, why would you keep that child? It’s not the right thing to do. We won’t accept it,” my father added. I knew where he would stand. However, they weren’t giving me a chance to answer one question let alone twenty-one of them.
Throwing my hands up to stop them in their wild tracks, I said, “Calm down. Both of you. I wasn’t raped and no, my son is not a product of that.Iseduced that man and took advantage of him. He doesn’t even know I’m carrying his child. I did something I regret and raising my son alone is the consequence.”
“I’m not following you,” my father claimed finally coming to stand beside me.
“Yes, he used me to get away from the events that happened at the mall but everything else is on me. He was actually a nice, caring guy. I was afraid at first but eventually I clung to his presence. I still find myself thinking about him if I’m keeping it a buck,” I confessed.
“Obasi, what should we do? I don’t know what to do,” my mother cried out. I wasn’t helpless, but I was sure that was how they saw me right now. I was their only child and confessed to some disturbing things.
“Cheyonne, you kept this child with no husband in sight and from a man that has a criminal record. I saw him on the news and he’s nothing short of a thug. I won’t accept him.” Obasi Afor was a stubborn man that didn’t go back on his word. If he said it, he meant it.
“Okay, but will you accept his son? I will go home and never come back again if the answer is no. I can deal with phone calls, but I can’t deal with neglecting my son for you. He’s my priority and the only person I’m focused on loving. I’m hoping since you love me and have been begging for a grandchild, you’ll put your pride to the side and love him as well.”
My parents sacrificed a lot for me and that sacrifice made me into the woman I was. They gave me unconditional love and support which allowed me to thrive in my career. Whenever I needed them, they were there. Not once did they turn their backs on me. All I needed from them now was that same undying love for my son and I’d be able to settle in my pregnancy for real.
They delivered indecisive looks to one another, and I allowed them to think on it heavily. I wanted them to know for certain if my son was worth loving. I didn’t need them growing to love him over the years. We had a few months to go, and I’d loved him from the moment of acknowledgment. He didn’t need anyone’s secondhand adoration.
“Mama, if it’s not something you and Dad can handle, just say that. This isn’t a forcing matter. I can promise you that,” I voiced with annoyance.
She placed her hand on my back offering a small smile. I knew her answer before she could say it. It was my father that had me nervous. I wanted them a part of their grandson’s life. I believed it would hurt me more than anything if they declined.
“What’s his name, Cheyonne?” my father inquired.
“Malachi Afor Atkins,” I whispered. He wouldn’t have my name straight out, so I knew that alone would be a problem for my father.
“Atkins? Cheyonne that isn’t a bed to lay in. Why would you do that?” my father questioned.
“I didn’t know a thing about that man, Dad. At that time, I was in survival mode and doing what I had to do to get myself out of there.”
“What’s wrong with Afor being his last name? He’s all we have to carry out our bloodline. Change his name, Cheyonne.”
“He’s wearing our name but also his father’s. I regretted everything about that night, but I don’t regret my son or hisname. I won’t change it, Dad. Is that the only thing keeping you from being here for us both?”
