Page 4 of It's Love I'm After

“I don’t know why y’all came in here with all this negative energy, interrupting our flow. Essence, you know that Sherita set your gullible too nice behind up. I’ve been dying to slather oil on her like Crisco, so don’t be mad if I wreck your wedding if the demon shows her cards during your nuptials.” Grandma Jolene interjects, pulling out the travel-size bottle of Holy oil she keeps on her at all times.

A low chuckle escapes my mouth at the look of determination on Grandma Jolene’s face, because it wouldn’t be the first time she’s threatened to bathe Sherita in oil. After dealing with Sherita’s crazy antics, I should have let Grandma Jolene have her way before ending the relationship. Yet, subjecting myself to Sherita’s split personalities any longer wouldn’t allow me to keep progressing in a dead end situation. Messing with Sherita Albert, I plan to take my time with the next woman I allow in my space romantically.

*ding*

Sherita Albert has tagged you in a post on Facebook

“See, now you got this crazy ass girl tagging me in posts because you wanted to be nice,” I say, looking at Essence before going to social media to see what’s awaiting me.

Sherita Malone-Albert

Don’t tell me God doesn’t answer prayers. I’m one step closer to securing my blessings with that man. Haha, take that haters… he’s coming back home.

#myman #myworld #foreverus

“If delusional and needs medication is a person, Sherita would be the spokesperson. See what the hell you started?” Turning my phone so Essence can see the post from Sherita, I stare daggers into my little sister’s gullible ass.

“Sorry, Germayne. I didn’t think to clear it with you before inviting her,” Essence says, hanging her head.

“Hm. That’s the problem, and now I have to find a way to avoid cuckoo at all costs. Thanks a lot, Sis.” Walking out of the living room, I head to my room to cool down so I don’t wind up shaking some sense into my baby sister.

“Why the long face, sweetie? Whatever it is can’t be that bad. Cheer up. Brighter days are ahead,” Nurse Lucy says when I exit the employee locker room the next day.

In typical Nurse Lucy fashion, she doesn’t slow her strides to receive an answer to her inquiry, which causes me to shake my head and continue to my destination. My mood isn’t the best because Sherita made another post on Facebook sharing an old picture of the two of us. People were celebrating our reconciliation despite having any confirmation from me, which pissed me off. It took every single sense the good Lord gave me to stop myself from responding to the bullshit. Like the idiot I am, I got on Facebook this morning, only to see that the post had over three hundred comments and nearly five hundred reactions.

“Unless you want those expecting mommies to chew you up and spit you out, I suggest you change that frown into a pleasant smile,” Dr. Carpenter suggests once I reach my destination roughly ten minutes later.

“Oh, don’t trip. You know those women can’t resist my handsome face, frowning or not,” I tell Dr. Carpenter before sitting in the empty chair beside her.

Gladys Carpenter is one of the best doctors to ever practice obstetrics and gynecology at Baxter Medical Center. Working alongside her has been one of the most extraordinary things in my career, because Dr. Carpenter ensures she supervises andteaches me. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been working in the baby department for so long, but I’ll deny it if anyone asks me because I want to keep Dr. Carpenter to myself. If others knew how thorough she was, they’d be trying to be a part of her team, and I can’t have that.

“Bigheaded much?” Dr. Carpenter smirks with her left brow hiking before returning to the monitor she’s watching.

“Mhm. Mama said it ripped her from the rooter to the tooter when I was born,” I reply, causing Dr. Carpenter to laugh while covering her mouth.

“You’re a mess, Dr. Malone.”

A warm smile upturns my lips at the moniker Dr. Carpenter has been calling me since I first worked with her. No matter how many times I tell her it doesn’t fit, she waves me off and continues calling me the unfitting name.

“How many babies are we expecting today?” I ask.

“Chile, only God knows. We have about a dozen women here, but some might need to go home if nothing happens within the next few hours.”

“Hm. Do any of them need anything I can provide?”

“Maybe. Check on Ms. Cline in room 229. She might benefit from your charms since her child’s father is MIA.”

Shaking my head, I stand, tap Dr. Carpenter on her shoulder, and head toward the room where Ms. Cline is laboring. Dr. Carpenter says this isn’t Ms. Cline’s first or second rodeo. It’s also not the first time I’ll be meeting Ms. Cline, because she was here two nights ago experiencing Braxton Hicks, and we had to send her home. I met the child’s father when he rushed the nurses to discharge Ms. Cline because WrestleMania was on, and he was missing it. To know his ass chose to not show up with Ms. Cline pisses me off.

“I see you’re back. Will today be the day?” I ask Ms. Cline after entering her room five minutes later.

“I hope so. I’m tired of being pregnant. This baby is stubborn, just like his daddy.” Ms. Cline’s voice is raspy, and her face is beet red with exhaustion shining within her eyes.

“Alright. Let me check you and see if he’s tired of keeping you waiting.” Pulling a pair of latex gloves from the box, I head to the foot of the bed to check her cervix for dilation.

3

CHANIYA

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