1
Jameela
I stirred in my sleep as the familiar sound of my little girl Bella’s whining pulled me out of a light slumber. I had one of those dreams where I was back on the streets of Lulaville chasing the shadows of bad guys and miscreants and solving cases. For just an instant, I was back on duty, doing what I loved to do.
My heart still raced with adrenaline as I settled in on the reality of it being just another dream. I almost felt like my old self before my baby’s cries woke me up like they did most mornings these days. Alarm clocks and rush hour traffic had become a distant memory over the past four months. I barely remembered what it felt like to have somewhere to go every day.
Soft streaks of sunlight cast a dim light through the cracks in the blinds, only illuminating the dust on the bedroom floor. The one that I had already gone too many days without sweeping. Toys and other signs of life were strewn around the room like evidence from a crime scene that I wasn’t quite ready to touch yet. Even basic things like cleaning my bedroom and doinglaundry seemed like such a task these days. The less Ihadto do, the less I felt like doing.
I lay there for a few minutes, listening to Bella fuss while I gave myself a head-to-toe evaluation. I was mostly concerned about the place right below the left side of my ribcage. I could barely tell that I’d had a major injury just a few months ago.
I felt no pain, but the residual effects of my injury remained a prominent part of my day-to-day existence. It had been four months since that knife nicked my spleen. A simple foot chase quickly went left, resulting in a nearly fatal injury for me. Some days, the spot where the knife went in still burned like hell.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I sat up and tried to gather myself to start the day. There was no use wallowing in self-pity for more than a couple of minutes. I knew that would get me nowhere. There was no use in falling apart. There was someone depending on me to keep it together.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I threw on a Lulaville PD T-shirt that used to fit better and made my way down the hall to Bella’s bedroom. I could tell she heard me coming because her soft cries were getting louder, more demanding. My girl was ready for breakfast, and I couldn’t blame her.
I opened the door and smiled as my adorable little alarm clock stood up in her crib and reached for me. Her big, watery brown eyes and sleep worn curls made me pout. Even when she was cranky, my baby girl was the cutest thing on the planet. She kept her chubby arms extended as I walked over to the bed.
“Come on, mama,” I cooed as I picked her up and kissed her cheek.
I hugged her tiny body to mine, soaking in the feeling of her being so small and cuddly. I buried my face in her neck andtook a deep breath. I loved the way babies smelled. The warm sweetness made my heart swell every time.
For a while, I just held her. For a second, everything else faded away. The badge collecting dust on my dresser, the uniform tucked away in my closet, the way my bank account dwindled by the day while I was stuck at home on medical leave, none of it mattered.
For a moment, it was just me and my innocent baby girl. We were safe and comfortable in the little two-bedroom sanctuary that I’d been able to scrape together for us before everything fell apart. For just a minute, there was no stabbing, no leave, no complicated baby daddy situation. It was just Jameela and Bella against the world.
I balanced my daughter on my hip as I carried her to the kitchen. After I put her in her high chair, I kissed her forehead. Once she was settled, I turned on the coffee pot then walked over to grab some dry cereal to keep her occupied while I made her favorite breakfast.
As much as I hated eggs, my baby loved to eat scrambled eggs for breakfast. I found that out from my mom. While the pan heated up, I grabbed some blueberries and strawberries from the refrigerator and threw together a quick fruit and yogurt parfait for both of us. I gave my baby her yogurt and eggs, then finally poured myself a cup of black coffee.
I started drinking coffee when I was around fourteen and had been low-key addicted ever since. On Sunday mornings, I would get up at five with my daddy and listen to his favorite radio station countdown and drink coffee, while he told me about the bad guys he’d caught during the week. I swore his stories were better than anything on TV.
I was completely fascinated by the third love of my daddy’s life. I always knew it was mama, me, then his career. No matter how much his job demanded of him, Daddy always made sure tomake time for us. Sometimes, he would wake us up in the middle of the night to play records and slow dance with us.
He would have Mama get dressed up and make breakfast for us at one in the morning. Then he would kiss on her and whisper in her ear until I got the cue to go to my room. My dad was my hero. He was the reason I’d become a police officer in the first place. If I could, I would honor my dad’s legacy for the rest of my life. Right on cue, my phone rang. I knew it was my mama before I even picked it up.
“Good morning, my favorite daughter,” my mom sang as soon as I answered.
As an only child, it had become a running joke between us over the years. Of course, I was the favorite. I smiled as I replied.
“Hey, Mama. You’re up early.”
“I wanted to check in on you. You know I know you’re an early bird. Have you ate breakfast yet? You look like you’re losing weight, Jameela. I’m starting to worry about you, girl.”
“Mama, I just woke up. I haven’t had time to eat yet,” I said, laughing a little as I dug into my parfait.
“Well, have you fed my baby? I know my girl is ready to eat. You might be trying to lose weight, but my baby gotta eat. Don’t you have her on no diet.”
I took a careful sip of my piping hot coffee and inhaled as the bitterness coated my tongue. “Your baby is eating right now, both of them.”
“What are you feeding her? I hope you ain’t putting her on that vegetarian mess you were talking about. You gotta eat a good hearty meal once in a while, girl. Don’t get too damn little. How you gonna find my grandbaby a new daddy when you ain’t got no meat on your bones no more? You was already thick when you got pregnant. Don’t try to shrivel up to keep or get no man.”
I was over two hundred pounds thanks to the thirty pounds I’d gained when I was pregnant. My mom seemed to think that Iwas finally at my fighting weight, but I was doing what I had to do to get back to ‘onederland’.
“I have plenty of meat on my bones, Mama; too much, actually. Besides, I’m not looking for your grandbaby a new daddy. I’m just trying to make sure that both me and Bella are healthy. She loves the food I feed her, and she’s well within her normal weight range.”
“Humph. I’m gon’ fatten my baby up. I don’t care what you say. You just don’t lose none of that booty, girl.”
