“Oh,” I keep my grip steady, thumbs pressing the buttons, but all I see is her, her laugh, the way her eyes flicker with fire, the curve of her jaw when she bites her lip to concentrate.
She doesn’t notice how close I’m watching, how every little move pulls at something deep inside me. When I ease my car past hers, she gasps sharp, half surprise, half frustrated.
“How?!” she screams.
I grin, low and slow, knowing she’s caught up in the game, but also in me.
“Mi just wah know seh yuh did have on gloves and yuh cover up enuh,” mommy breathes.
“Everything did Gov man,” I say, making a mental note to link Genius later.
Affi remove this call data…
“Arite, baby, memba yuh affi come show yuh face though, ‘cause yuh nuh waan go look guilty,” she whispers.
“Yeh, Mommy,” I say. As soon as I hang up, Zara jumps on my back, snatching my controller and wrapping her arms tight around my neck.
I hold her steady, can’t have her falling.
Ol’ crook.
She laughs, sliding slowly off me. “Baby, mi did affi thief yuh ‘cause you a thief me,” she says, grinning.
“You been a thief mi. Mi never a thief yuh,” I fire back.
She keeps laughing. “Well, me win.”
“Cause yuh cheat,” I hiss, and she laughs even harder.
6
Time
I’m five weeks pregnant. After I tell the doctor the date of conception, she leans back slightly, eyebrows raised like she’s calculating.
Then come the questions, awkward, back-to-back until she finally nods, satisfied. Mi still cya believe time a move so fast. My baby’s growing and graduation is creeping up right behind it.
Yuh belly soon start show enuh, Zara!my subconscious squeals, playful but low-key panicked.
God know, mi really want graduate before any bump start show.
Yes, before everybody see seh yuh tun baby mother!The annoying girl in mi head chimes in, loud and judgy as usual.
I sigh. Mi cya bother with the looks and all the damn questions. Honestly. And walking across that stage, doing my speech, with everybody watching, from mi classmates to mi family? Awkward isn’t even the word.
Doh worry yourself, mon
“Are you okay, Ms. Williams?” the doctor asks gently.
I blink, snapping out of it.
“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a sheepish smile. She sees right through me but smiles back, soft and kind. Her hand wraps around mine, firm but calming.
“I know exactly how you feel,” she says. “As a mother, I’ve been there. The anxiety’s real, but it’s not good for the baby, yuh hear?”
I nod, jaw tight. She chuckles, light and knowing. “Just breathe, man.”
So I breathe. “Tek it easy, man.”
