Page 167 of Anything Necessary for Her
“We are? I’m excited, but when and for how long? Because I need to be sure I practice.”
Stepping closer to her as she sat on the edge of the bed, I said, “A week, and don’t worry about none of that shit. I got everything covered. Don’t pack too much either. You gon’ wanna shop out there too.”
“Okay.” She brightened, unable to stop grinning. “My first baecation. I hope I don’t get pregnant.”
“My first one too. Shit, my first vacation period, and no promises on not knocking yo’ fine ass up. You bet not do that splits on my dick out there, though, or you gon’ be a mommy by top of the fucking year.”
She cracked up as I bent down to kiss her. She was laughing, but low-key, I was deadass. Every time she pulled that shit out, especially in reverse, I only lasted about five minutes tops and could barely form a coherent enough sentence to tell her to get off.
“You were right, we do have a lot of firsts together.”
“A whole fucking lot.”
THE NEXT MORNING . . . AROUND 7 A.M.. . .
Entering my spot, I was surprised to see Whitney on the couch watching TV. She usually didn’t awaken until after one or two o’clock, according to my siblings since I was usually always out working still.
“Good morning.” She put a mug to her lips that I assumed was alcohol.
“Morning.” I started past her, but the scent of actual coffee caught me off guard.
“Can you sit for a second, or are you in a rush?” she asked softly in a voice I hadn’t heard her use in a while.
“Depends on what I’m sitting down for, Whitney.” I turned toward her slightly, watching her cringe at the fact that I never called her mama or anything of the like.
“Sit, please.”
“Look, I had a good ass day yesterday, aight? It led into the night, too, so I’m on a little bit of a high. I’m in love, I got shit in motion, my siblings are good, and I don’t got beef with my girl’s people. All I wanna do is take a quick thirty-minute nap before I have to clean up then drop off Wyatt and Waverley.”
“I’m that bad, huh?” She set the mug down slowly.
“I don’t want an invite to ya pity party.” I watched her as she nodded and again was caught off guard by her meek attitude. She usually would’ve been trying to go upside my fucking head by now. “You aight?”
I hated myself for even asking or giving a fuck. Every time I told myself I would ice Whitney out, I folded, and that shit aggravated me.
“The day I asked to pick up Waverley from ballet, I had a talk with your girlfriend,” she said, clutching the mug again and slurping from it.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, wondering why Banks didn’t say shit. It must’ve went hella left.
“It was a good talk; great, actually, Willow, so don’t worry.”
Frowning, I asked, “What was said?”
“Just know it was enough and that I know I need to get better, but it can’t be done on my own. I can’t just wake up one day and stop drinking, even though that was the lie I used to frequently tell.” She let out a melancholic chuckle to herself. “I did it a long time ago when I got pregnant with Wyatt and then Waverley, so I figured I was strong enough to do it again whenever I pleased.” She wiped her nose. “But I’m not. I realize I was only getting clean because I thought you guys’s fathers would see me sober and want, shit, I don’t know, a family? That was giving me the willpower to stop. Then when it would be made obvious that a family wouldn’t happen, I would go right back on the bottle.
“Lately, though, I’ve had no man’s attention to vie for, so I’m unable to get and stay sober.”
Taking a seat beside her, I contemplated on whether or not I wanted to ask a certain question but decided to say fuck it.
“Do Wyatt and I really have the same father?”
She looked at me out of her peripheral so subtly that if I wasn’t staring her down, I would’ve missed the shit. Her eyes glazed over as she held the mug between her palms even tighter, teeth sunken down into her bottom lip as she seemed to wade through her thoughts as if they were thick as mud.
“The night he was conceived”—She set the cup back down—“I admit I was plastered.” She shook her head, staring down at the coffee table as she interlocked her fingers. “I remember talking with your father.” She sniffled. “And . . . um . . .” She wiped thetrickling tears, but it was no use because they were coming down too damn quickly. “I can’t tell you if I slept with him or one of the many men in that room. We were at a lounge, and I was the only woman there and have spotty memories of your father and some of the guys being very nice I’ll say. I woke up on the floor the next morning, and I could very much feel that I’d had sex… with multiple people. I just didn’t know with who.” She sniffled and nodded.
I felt my body tense and jaw sort of lock up at the thought of my mama being taken advantage of. Even worse, my father being in that room and allowing the shit.
I understood a lot of niggas had no love for their child’s mother, but it would never make sense to me how you could allow harm to your baby’s mother, knowing she had to take care of and provide for your kid, and part of that meant she needed to be mentally sound.
