“You told me we would find a home for him,” he reminded me, his tone gentle but firm. “You told me this would not go on longer than a few weeks.”
“I remember,” I said softly.
He looked around the room, taking in the bottle warming station, the folded blankets, the baby monitor and the toys in a small basket. “Abeni, this is not a temporary arrangement. You have made a nursery in an entirely separate wing of the house.”
I lowered my eyes, tracing the shape of Preslan’s cheek with my fingertip. “I have been looking for a home for him,” I said. “I truly have. I simply have not found anyone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved.”
Kojo sighed and rested his forehead against my thigh. His hands were warm where they held me. “My love, he is not ours.”
My heart pulled tight, but I kept my voice gentle. “He feels like mine.”
“That is the part that worries me,” Kojo said. “You have carried this longer than you should have. I know why you feel this connection, and I know what this brings up for you, but we cannot allow your pain to guide decisions that affect everyone.”
I swallowed and looked down at my husband, the man who had held me through every loss and every tear I refused to cry in public. “I thought I could give him away,” I admitted. “I truly did. I thought I could detach myself from him after a few weeks. Yet every time I hold him, I feel something I have not felt in a very long time. Something that I cannot explain without sounding unbalanced.”
Kojo lifted his head and reached up to cup my cheek. “You are not unbalanced,” he said softly. “You are a mother who has lost more than she ever deserved to lose. But you have to move on, baby. You cannot keep him, Abeni. And that’s final.”
“He needs me,” I said.
“He needed safety,” Kojo corrected. “And you gave him that. Now he needs a life he can call his own. And you need peace. Not another secret you can’t manage.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby and felt a tear sting the corner of my eye. I blinked it away before it could fall. “What if I cannot let him go?”
“You can,” Kojo said gently. “Because you have let go before, even when it broke you. And you have me. You have grandchildren. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
His words wrapped around me the way his arms always had.
I nodded slowly, though my heart ached. “I will try.”
Kojo kissed my hand. “No. You will do this. This isn’t optional, Abeni.”
Preslan stirred slightly and nestled closer against me. I rocked him again and stared at his sweet face.
Even though my husband had given me orders I knew I couldn’t ignore, I did not know if my heart would ever let this child go.
The Trill-Land Justice Holding Center
Hearin’ my wife’s voice on the phone every fuckin’ day was breakin’ a nigga down, but I was tryin’ not to fold, and not lose my mind in a place that felt smaller and darker every time I woke up in it.
And under all of that was the anger sittin’ heavy in my chest like it grew a heartbeat of its own. I had already sent one nigga to the hospital last week for lookin’ at me sideways too long, and truth be told, if I see that nigga again, I’ll hit him in his shit again.
Every day I woke up in this bitch, I was waitin’ on the next dumbass to breathe wrong so I could release some of this shit boilin’ in me.
I wasn’t pressed to make no friends. I wasn’t tryna “adjust to jail.” I wasn’t built for this shit, and I damn sure wasn’t gon’ pretend to be.
Every nigga in here could feel it on me, too. Soon as I walked in the pod, they moved out my way like I was walkin’ through smoke. They knew I was two seconds from rearrangin’ the way a nigga walk and talk. I missed my wife, and I was finally takin’ it out on these niggas.
I gripped the sticky-ass jail phone and leaned my forehead against the wall while Toni talked soft on the other end. Her voice was warm and tired, and it wrapped around me in a way that made my chest feel too damn tight. She said she had just left the doctor and everything was lookin’ good, and even though she was only three months in she couldn’t stop rubbin’ her belly like the baby was already sittin’ in her hands.
My mama had been right there with her every step of the way, makin’ sure she ate the right shit so she ain’t get sick, keepin’ her stocked with teas and lil’ remedies to calm her nerves, sittin’ with her at night when the stress get heavy, and pretty much holdin’ her up in all the places I was supposed to be. The thought of my mama fussin’ over her and keepin’ her steady made my heart burn with love and guilt at the same time, ‘cause I hated that they had to carry this without me.
Hearin’ Toni talk about my baby pulled a smile out of me before I even realized it.
“You rubbin’ that lil’ belly already?” I asked, lettin’ a low laugh slip. “Baby, you barely showin’.”
“I know,” she said, and I could hear her smile through the phone. “But it make me feel close to the baby and you. I can’t help it.”
I closed my eyes so tight it damn near hurt ‘cause I wanted to be there with her. I wanted to kneel in front of her and kiss herbelly every night. I wanted to feel our baby grow under my hand instead of picturin’ it from a fuckin’ cell.
