Page 20 of Hooked on Loving Him

My stomach drops to the bottom of my shoes as a manifestation of dread fills me at the glower on Kayshon’s face.

“You’re very comfortable with her,” I say weakly from the lack of a better assessment or response to Kayshon’s quick rebuttal.

“My being a great uncle doesn’t lend way to you assuming that I’m a father. Hell, I could say your ample supply of titties indicate that you’ve provided nourishment for ten babies, but I didn’t. Don’t insult me, Ashari. While I don’t judge niggas who choose to forfeit their ability to be fathers, I also don’t subscribe to the narrative.” The chastisement in Kayshon’s voice has my bottom lip trembling as his gaze penetrates my soul.

The voices coming from the TV become static as silence stretches between Kayshon and me. I’m unsure how to correct my insult to Kayshon’s character and integrity, which causes me to stare blankly at what I’m unable to visually register on the screen.

“I’m sorry, Kayshon,” I say.

“Judge me based on what I show you versus who you think I am, and we’ll be straight. While my layers are complex, they’re anything but stereotypical.”

My brows hike, and my forehead wrinkles as I wait to see if Kayshon will say something to clarify his last statement.

“While we’re on the subject, do you want to have kids one day?” Kayshon asks.

Okay, I guess he’s not gonna add some substance to his last comment.

“I do,” I say, forging ahead while mentally shrugging off the last seconds of our exchange.

“Hm,” Kayshon says, nodding without uttering another word, leaving me hanging for the missing context he’s not providing me.

This just took a nasty left turn that I’m unsure how to navigate myself out of. I wonder if I have turned Kayshon off. Clearly, I need to spend more time asking God to soften my countenance before I find myself again settling for Marquan.

“I’m gonna have to love that hard shit outta your ass, Ashari. Helping you into your soft girl era is about to be my mission,” Kayshon says, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer to him.

I’m so glad that God still hears a sinner’s prayer.

My conscience starts singing the classic Deitrick Haddon song as the tension in the room dissipates the closer Kayshon and I get to each other. When Kayshon wraps his arm around my shoulder while lightly kissing my temple, the tightness in my shoulders evaporates as the atmosphere shifts.

The following week…

“Hey, Kayshon. How are things going?”Letitia asks with a pleasant smile upturning her lips.

“This session is extremely timely because I have an appointment tomorrow, and I have some hesitation for the first time since scheduling it.” Rubbing my beard, I stare at Letitia as my mind swirls with multiple thoughts.

Not being like him is why you made the decision, so there’s really no need to hesitate. What happens if she’s the one, though? You heard her declaration regarding what she wants in the future. Yeah, but what if she turns out not to be worththe trouble? Then you will be walking around here like a ticking time bomb. W?—

“I can see the various thoughts rattling around in your eyes. Why don’t you tell me what appointment you’re referring to? Then we can sort it and what’s hovering in your mind out,” Letitia says, cutting into my wayward downward spiral, causing me to exhale and let her know what’s up.

“I’m getting a vasectomy,” I say, staring intently at her to gauge her reaction as her pencil stills and hovers over the notebook I’ve come to expect during these exchanges.

“Uh… I didn’t see that coming. You’re in your early thirties, correct?”

“Thirty-two. Why does that matter, though?”

My body temperature picks up as my mouth waters, and the hairs on my arm tingle while a frown slips into place. Age has nothing to do with my decision, so I’m unsure why she’s asking or confirming it right now.

“Most doctors have practices where they won’t perform such a procedure at your age, especially when you haven’t had any children yet.” Letitia’s eyes are unreadable, causing me to wonder about the thoughts she hasn’t shared.

“This dude had no problem scheduling a consultation with me, so it doesn’t seem like he cares about either of those things.”

“Okay. Tell me why you’re taking this step, and we can circle back to that piece of the puzzle.”

“About a week before my parents died, I missed days of school because my ass was too raw to sit on it comfortably, and my arms had deep gashes on them,” I say, looking at the tattoos covering both arms as the memory of why I needed a permanent shield enters my mind, causing me to shiver.

“You got in trouble, and one of your parents whupped you,” Letitia says as more of a statement than a question, causing my neck to snap back like she struck me.

“Man, I got my ass beat with an extension cord because my punk ass father got mad about tripping over my shoes on the stairs. The shoes on the stairs weren’t new, but his ass fell down two steps which caused his unruly temper to flare. The extension cord was the closest thing to him, so he grabbed it on his way up the stairs. I had just gotten out of the shower, and the nigga didn’t care. He started swinging that cord until my blood hit the dingy, cream-colored walls in my room. I cried loud enough to be heard on Mars, yet no one came to see about me. I—” My words get stuck in my throat as I clench my mouth to choke the sob rising from the pit of my belly.

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