Page 37 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“Although you should have been told me about him, why are you doing it now. What the fuck does especially now mean?”
She grabs the small bar menu from the table and starts flipping the sheet over and over. Then, she looks up at me with a half, non-convincing smile on her face.
“I’m sick, Daymir,” she reveals and sigh. My back sinks back on my chair.
I knew something was wrong with her. Had to be.
“Not like that,” she says, obviously reading my face and body language. “I did this to myself.”
She rolls up the left sleeve of her dress, exposing an arm full of tracks.H.Disappointed and enraged, I drop her phone and grab her arm and pull it towards me. Her arm has bruising, needle marks, and dark veins. She’s been shooting that shit in her arm.
Still holding her wrist, I ask, “What happened to you?”
“Life.”
“Why the fuck would you fuck with H? Has he been around that shit?”
Im really the fuck blown. Makenna using and turned out on heroin seems unreal as shit. She always had her shit together. She did nails at one of the popular shops in Philly, rented a nice apartment, and drove a nice car. I paid her bills when we were together but before me, she was handling her shit. She was together, not like this at all.
After snatching her arm back, she quickly covers it back with her sleeve, then she folds her arms across her chest. She inhales lowly but exhales loud as hell. She looks around as if people are watching then leans in on the table.
“I was going through, but I’m not anymore. Well, at least, I don’t want to anymore. I’m going to rehab. I’ve been before but this program is different. It’s six months and I need you to take care of our son.”
There’s no hesitation in my voice or my answer. He’s my son, which means I’m gonna take care of him without a doubt.
“Where is he?”
“With my Maw Maw she’s had him the past two years but she’s really sick and can’t do it anymore.”
“And he has a fucking daddy. She doesn’t have to do it anymore. He’s mine and I’ll take care of him. Are they in Houston?”
“No, they’re upstairs,” she says, and I’m on my feet in the next two seconds.
“You should’ve led with that fucking shit. I wanna see him and get him right now.”
“Daymir, wait. This is hard for me.”
“Makenna,” I grit then lean back down to the table. “Real shit I don’t give a fuck how you feel right now. Honestly, this should be hard for you. You kept my son for me. You’ve been living this fucking lifestyle that could have put him in danger. Get up; let’s go to this room so I can get my son. All that other shit you’re talking about doesn’t matter. I’ve waited six years because you kept him from me. I’m not waiting no fucking more. Let’s go.”
She glances at me briefly, but then she stands and rushes past me. I follow her to the elevators and we head up to the seventh floor, riding in silence. When we reach the door, she places her hand on my chest, then has the nerve to say, “This is just till I get my shit together; six months and I’m coming back for him.”
Her words are falling on my intentionally deaf ears. I’m not trying to hear this dumb shit at all. He is staying with me. There’s no telling how much damage she’s done to him with her drug addiction. I’m not gonna let her do any more damage. Besides, he’s a boy; he needs his father in his life.
“Daymir,” she says.
All I say in return is “Open the door, Makenna.”
Her shoulders deflate and she releases a heavy side before turning towards the door and lightly tapping on it. A woman’s voice calls out from the other side.
“Kenna, is that you?”
“Yes, Maw Maw open the door.” Seconds later, I hear movement then the door opens. Makenna’s grandmother, who I’ve never met, is standing with a cane and staring with her mouth partially open. “I know,” Makenna utters.
“DJ is his twin,” she finally gasps. “Hey,” she says and I nod.
While I was raised to be respectful, I don’t have time for pleasantries. I just wanna see my son. So, I keep my response short.
“Hey. Where is he?”
