Page 11

We dapped hands.

“Nothing came up yet about Max either?”

“Nah, it's still looking random to the streets. I've been checking around and Scotty has too, but nothing has been said. Still quiet around your place right?”

“Yeah, as it better be.”

I leaned back against the car carefully, shifting just enough so my gun wouldn't dig into my hip. Crew held the blunt out toward me, and for a second, I really thought about taking it because today had been heavy on me in more ways than one.

“Tempting, but I’m good man. I don't want to pick up a habit before the baby gets here.”

“Oh yeah, nigga about to be a daddy.”

“Yeah, I can't believe that shit.”

I laughed it off.

Before I came to the service this morning, I’d stopped by Delilah’s parent’s house to check on her since she’d been feeling down all day.

Surprisingly, her parents weren’t still on that bullshit with me and actually let me through the front door. Her pops even offered me some tea while I sat beside her on the couch, in the living room, which I never thought would happen. Delilah was leaning over in my arms, in pain from a lupus flare up and nauseous all in one because of the baby I recently found out about.

Days when Delilah wasn’t feeling good hit me harder since I found out that she was carrying my seed.

Ever since then, every ache she had, every doctor’s appointment, every time she looked too tired or sick felt personal to me. Shid, I was up late at night doing my own research on lupus and pregnancy, reading through article after article until damn near everything I saw started scaring me. Women with lupus had higher risks of miscarriages, premature births, and high blood pressure. All types of shit could hurt either Delilah or the baby, and I wasn’t trying to lose either one of them.

Having a kid was never really part of my plans before I found out about her pregnancy. Truthfully, I’d spent most of my life moving like tomorrow wasn’t promised, so settling down and becoming somebody’s father wasn’t something I pictured for myself. But now that I knew there was really a baby coming into this world with my blood, something in me shifted. I was about to take this fatherhood shit seriously, and being a father is about to be my number one priority.

I want my child raised like royalty, whether I end up with a son or a daughter, and luckily for me, I had good examples around me when it came to being a man for your family. Watching niggas like Crew love hard when it came to the people around him showed me you are never too gangsta to be a father. And because I knew what it felt like growing up without really feeling loved by my own father, I was determined to be everything to my child that mine never was to me.

I stood on the block quietly for a minute, staring down at the concrete beneath my feet while the smoke from Crew’s blunt drifted between us. After a while, I glanced up and ended up locking eyes with somebody I hadn’t looked at in a long time, sitting up on the stoop next to Pernelle.

It was Jasmine, and even with those dark sunglasses covering her eyes, I could still feel her looking right back at me.

Her shoulders looked sunken, her whole body drained like grief had physically hollowed her out, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through her head right now. My child wasn’t even born yet, and the thought of something happening to them already had me scared out of my damn mind, so I knew even the possibility of losing her son had to be destroying her completely.

But, judging by the number of people who showed up to pray for RJ today, she had a tough support system and a lot of people around her to help her through this.

Shit, even though we didn’t speak anymore, I still found myself thinking about her and praying to Allah for healing every single day.

I’d never stepped foot inside a Christian church before in my life, but I went today anyway, to pay my respect. While they worshipped in their own way, I said my silent prayers to Allah, asking him to watch over RJ and give Jasmine strength through all this. She didn’t deserve this shit, no matter what people were whispering about her. She wasn’t perfect, but no bitch on these streets is either. I’m sure even Delilah has secrets she would never tell.

I guess I’d been staring in Jasmine’s direction for too long because Pernelle, who was sitting beside Jasmine on the stoop, noticed me looking over there.

She lifted her hand over her head and waved me over, and instantly I knew I needed to show respect to my boy’s wife.

When I walked up to the stoop, Pernelle stood and wrapped her arms around me in a quick hug.

“How you been, Amir? I was going to speak to you at the church, but by the time we made it to the back, you were already gone.”

“Yeah. I had to check on a few things for your husband. I'm good though. You been alright?”

“Yeah, as alright as I can be.”

Her answer came with a shrug, and the sadness in her face said way more than her words did. Everyone around here had that same look in their eyes, even Crew.

An awkward silence settled between all of us, and my eyes slowly drifted back down toward Jasmine, who was still sitting there quietly with her shoulders folded inward.

“Jasmine.”