“I’m sorry I had to do you like this. You’re such a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, but I’m just tired of coming hometo a chaotic home after being out in a chaotic world all day . . . I promise I’ll give you anything you need for them and yourself. You can keep the house and the car, and I’ll have my mom and aunts come by to pick up my things sometime this weekend. I’m sorry, baby. I am. I hope we can be cordial for the kids’ sake and make arrangements for visitation rights. I love you, Ali, but this was never supposed to be us.”
The voice note cut off, and I sat there, staring at our family photo on the wall as my eyes pooled with emotion. Tears as big as raindrops dripped down my face as I continued to sit stoically, running each excuse Leo made through my mind.
Why was it so easy for him to give up and leave me with three children and a pile of bills? Although I could take care of my children and myself, it was much easier to have a partner to help with those things. His message was selfish, self-centered, and . . . cowardice. Yes, we did make a vow to wait until we were thirty-five to start having children, but my son came a little earlier than expected, and that bastardneverasked me to get my tubes tied or get on birth control. He kept cumming in me and acting as if there weren’t consequences behind the shit.
So many emotions were taking over me all at once, but the one I felt most was rage. I stood abruptly from the couch and hurried up the stairs. I went to our bedroom, went into our closet, and yanked his clothes from the hangers. I took them to our bathroom and tossed those shits in the tub.
All of his expensive watches, shoes, and suits went right inside with the rest of his funky-ass clothes. I filled the tub, doused it with bleach, and gave it a good mix. I snatched all our wedding photos scattered across the room and all our memorabilia, which were tossed into a trash bag, along with the wedding dress I was saving for Chloe or Carlee when they got older and decided to marry.
I wouldn’t let my babies get married in that cursed shit.
Tears streamed down my face the whole time I moved around that house. Since I spent my hard-earned money on his anniversary gifts, I decided to give everything to my little brother. Once I was done ridding myself of that bastard’s presence, I called Nora, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I wouldn’t dare call my mother because, although sweet, she was slightly unhinged, and knowing that my husband just broke up with me on our anniversary through text would surely have her in a rage. Maybe I should call her, because the way I was feeling, I was ready to set the whole house on fire.
How could he do this to me?I gave him everything and thirteen years of my life. We created a life together. He seemed happy each time I got pregnant and never let on that things were different until after Carlee was born. If he didn’t want a life with me, why would he string me along and break up with me through a fucking text? Something inside of me switched. I officially hated him. And while he thought he was getting off easily, I was going to make his life a living hell.
“Congratulations,baby boy! I’m so proud of you!” my moms, Gloria, exclaimed. We were sitting in the dining room, enjoying a slice of pound cake my moms made from scratch. It was a celebratory cake she made for me when I got my certificate.
I smiled widely. “Thank you, beautiful.”
“It only took him eight years, but hey, at least you got it done,” my father, Brian, countered and patted me on the back. He and my mother laughed as I shook my head.
“Very funny.”
“Don’t be like that, lil bro. Like Pops said, at least you got it done,” my brother, Bilal, replied.
“That’s right. So, now that the hard part is over, what are your plans to use those degrees?”
“Well, I was thinking, instead of opening a daycare, I’m going to use my trust and open a nanny agency.”
“Nanny agency?” my father asked, confused.
“Yeah, a nanny agency. In my case, it would be a nanny/manny agency. I’m going to hire women and men who are professionals and love children as I do.”
“Being a manny is crazy work. I thought you’d at least open the daycare or something,” Bilal wondered aloud.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“You won’t be going to anyone’s home to take care of their kids. You’ll take care of them in a secure facility.”
I ran my hand over my beard. “You remember when Moms used to take us to her single friend’s house to play with their kids?”
Bilal laughed. “Yeah, I couldn’t stand Ms. Tanya’s kids, especially her daughter, Neosha.”
I laughed. “Lies! Nigga, you had the biggest crush on Neosha.”
“Stop lying. I couldn’t stand her baldheaded ass.”
“Oh, really? Is that why I caught you two kissing behind the garage?” Moms asked, laughing. We all laughed except for Lal, who sat stoically as he squinted at our mother.
“Anyway! What about it?” he asked.
“I saw how hard things used to be for them and always offered to help. Single mothers have a lot on their plates, and I want to alleviate their stress. I know that shit is hard, especially if they have multiple children. And let’s be honest; ya bro has a gift with taking care of children.”
“Spoiling them is not a gift, my G.”
I chuckled. “I spoil them and teach them. It’s a win-win, my brother.”
“So you say.”
