Page 7 of Desperate Times

“Yes, bff, you know this.”

“Answer this for me. For four years, you had the opportunity to offer me something. Something that would put my mind at ease regarding Jah, but you didn't. Why?”

“Because Crim. There’s me and you, then there is me and Rashad. I hope I’m making sense.”

She was making perfect sense. Her man and his needs came before me. Nothing confusing about it. By this time, I was completely silent. It felt like everyone else was in on something, a joke or a secret, and I was the only one left out. There had to have been conversations I wasn’t privy to. There were decisions made without me, which only meant one thing: they didn’t trust me. Was I really that impulsive, untrustworthy or fragile, that they felt the need to shield me from whatever was happening? Was I that unpredictable, making them feel safer keeping me in the dark? Or was I just plain ole immature? At this point, I was questioning myself.

As if the last month wasn’t chaotic enough, today added to it. My auntie is going to have a fit. She swore it was a sign of bad luck if she was even a minute late for Bingo. If I'm the reason she's late, she'll add a $10 late fee. My auntie was money hungry. She didn't care if you were family or Jesus. She made sure she got her coins. Lord knows I couldn't afford to give her any extras. That's why I was pissed that Que was dragging his ass. Or maybe I was pissed that I reached out to him in the first place. I never wanted to need him, and frankly, I didn’t. But I refusedto let him take care of his other kids and not even bat an eye in Scarlett’s direction. I messed up and had a baby by a deadbeat. I’d have to explain that to her one day, but today he was going to decide if he wanted to be in her life or not. Then I would proceed accordingly.

Finally, he pulled up to the bank, twenty minutes after he was supposed to be here, blasting his music and causing a fucking scene. That was his problem. He often needed to be the center of attention. Wearing the most expensive clothes, owning every pair of Jordans, and switching out his cars like they were underwear. Hurriedly, I trekked towards his car, hoping no one saw me get in. While he wanted all eyes on him, I loathed attention.

"Sup, baby," he smiled.

"Hey, Que. Thanks for coming."

"No doubt, " he responded as he swerved into traffic. Future blasted on the speakers, and I was sure I’d be deaf by the time he dropped me off. He rapped to the music, emphasizing certain words to me. I was annoyed because I was involuntarily part of his rap video and this was not why I asked him to pick me up. My antennas went up when I realized we were going in the opposite direction of my home.

"Why are you getting on the expressway? My place is fifteen minutes that way." I said pointing as he merged onto the speeding traffic.

"I thought you wanted to go to my crib. Hang out, I got some time."

"No. I have to get Scarlett before my auntie leaves out for Bingo. You never answer your phone. So, I asked you to pick me up, so we could talk."

"So talk, man." He scoffed with an attitude.

"Look, I was wondering if you wanted to come up with some kind of visiting schedule. She's getting older and has barely seen you."

“I'm busy with Kenya and the boys-”

"Don't talk to me about your other baby mama or those kids.”

“You mean my wife?” He smirked proudly.

“I wouldn’t give a fuck if she was the Pope. Up until nine months ago, none of them existed. And whatever you have going on with them has nothing to do with Scarlett."

“Well, as I said, I'm tied up.”

"Can we at least get on a payment schedule?"

“I knew you were going to ask for some bread. You don’t care about me seeing the baby.”

“No, YOU, don’t care about seeingthe baby.”

“Bitter baby mama. You want money and if I don’t provide it, you use the baby as a chess piece. Typical."

"Typical? I take care of your child. A child you begged me to have and left me to raise on my own. Now she has to take a backseat because you used me as a reprieve from a family you already had? That's craziness!"

"Yo, I'm not about to argue with you. Tell me what the baby needs-“

“STOP CALLING HER THE BABY! HER NAME IS SCARLETT!” I yelled. The man disassociated from his responsibilities so well that he saw her as nothing more than ‘the baby’. That’s probably why he didn’t feel like he needed to spend time with her, or support her financially.

“You’re yelling about her name instead of telling me what she needs. Crimson I'm not about to put a stack in your hand so you can pay your personal bills. Shit that doesn't have anything to do with the ba-, with Scarlett.” He corrected himself. “So just tell me what she needs.”

"If the electricity or gas is off, then Scarlett goes without air or heat. If my phone is off, then I can't call out for an emergency if something happens. Diapers and formula are the tip of the iceberg when it comes to our daughter."

“You heard what I said. Tell me what she needs and I’ll get it.”

I got quiet, taming my emotions, I suppose. She had diapers, wipes, clothes, all of the basics, but they needed to be replenished every so often. I was paying my auntie full price to do a half-ass job babysitting Scarlett, and I was sick of her. If he gave me money, I could afford to send her to a real daycare center.

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