“When we were blessed with you, Mama and Daddy were young and immature. We made choices that hurt you. None of that is your fault. You hear me? Not one piece.”
Her face relaxed a tiny bit, like that settled her for half a second. She nodded, even sniffled a little, then it was like some terrible realization clicked into place behind her eyes.
“Does that mean Daddy didn’t want me?” she asked.
Then she burst into sobs. The sound gutted me. Serena’s hand flew up to her mouth. She pushed off the doorframe and came over to rub Aziza’s back, but her eyes were already on me. There was only so much either of us could say without lying outright.
“I’ll… let me go get him. She needs to hear that from his mouth,” Serena said quietly.
I just nodded because my voice wasn’t working anymore.
Aziza was curled on her side, shoulders shaking, little fists bunched in the comforter. I reached for her. She came, all warm limbs and broken heart, pressing into me like she was five again. I rocked her, nose in her hair, eyes burning.
“Baby, listen to me. Your daddy did not know about you. If he had known, he would’ve been right here. He’s a lot, but he loves you now like he been waiting on you,” I whispered.
She choked on a sob. “But why you didn’t tell him?”
Because I thought he didn’t want me. Because I thought he wouldn’t want you. Because I was scared he’d prove your grandparents right. Because I let other people’s lies become our truth.
None of that was fit to tell my nine-year-old.
“I made a mistake,” I said instead. The words tasted like broken glass. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought Iwas protecting both of us from more hurt. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
She cried harder.
The door opened behind us. I didn’t even have to look. I felt him before I saw him, like the whole room shifted.
“What’s going on?” Jabali asked.
His voice was low and anxious, already worried. Serena answered for me.
“She asked if you didn’t want her. I figured that was Daddy business.”
He swore under his breath. One soft word that split the air. He came to my side of the bed, eyes on Aziza like nothing else existed. I’d seen him angry, cocky, amused. This was different. His face looked so hurt.
“Come here, little mama,” he said.
I started to pull back. Aziza clung tighter, then peeked up, saw his face, and launched herself across the space between us like she couldn’t help it. He caught her easily, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. Her arms went around his neck, desperate.
“I asked Mama if you didn’t want me. ’Cause I don’t understand why nobody told me. Kids at school got daddies. ZoZo got a daddy. I thought maybe I did something wrong,” she cried.
Something in him just… broke. I could see it. His jaw clenched, eyes going narrow, breath coming out like somebody had punched him in the chest.
“Ay, ay, look at me,” he said.
He eased her back just enough to see her face. His big hands framed her cheeks so gently it hurt to watch.
“You listen to me real close, Aziza Grindley. There has never been a day in this world where you were not wanted.”
She sniffled. “But you weren’t here.”
“I know.” His voice shook on the words. “I know. That’s on grown people. That’s on stuff that happened before you even got here. I did not know my baby existed. If I had known, I would’ve been at every doctor appointment. In every waiting room. Sleeping on hospital couches. I would’ve been at every first step, every first word, every daycare Christmas program. Do you understand me?”
She stared up at him, eyes wet and wide.
“I would’ve changed your diapers, burned formula, braided your baby hair crooked, all that. I would’ve been right here annoying your mama and embarrassing you in front of your little friends. I didn’t miss that stuff because I didn’t want you. I missed it because people made decisions that kept me in the dark.”
He pulled her back into his chest, rocking her like she was still tiny.
