Page 4 of Free to Love You
His jaw tightened and his face heated like an eye on a stove that was on high. “Dr. Carson, all I did was simply compliment your notes. There is no need to be so combative and aggressive.”
Adjectives that had been associated with me since my residency. Ask me if I gave a fuck. “Dr. Guster, last I checked your concentration is general practice. You tell people when they have a damn cold, high blood pressure, and cholesterol. You are not in the operating room administering anesthesia. With that, make it make sense why you would review my notes in the first place. Let me know.”
He had no kind of answer, and he knew he didn’t. Hell was still taking admissions, and I didn’t mind putting his ass in the entry line. He scoffed before he spoke. “Have a good rest of your day, Dr. Carson.”
Was I an arrogant or cocky man? Nah, I was confident in who the hell I was as a person and my skill set as an anesthesiologist. You had to be around here.Let me get the hell out of here to go see my baby.
"Daddy!” My four-year-old daughter, Ayriss, ran to me. I felt whole when she wrapped her little arms around my neck. “What are you doing here?”
I surprised her today by picking her up from school. This was a rarity because of my busy schedule. I tried my hardest to spend any free time that I had with her. Luckily, I had a baby mama that didn’t trip. Hope and I were still friends. We broke up amicably when our baby was six months old. We realized that we were better as friends.
I took very good care of her. The house and car she lived in and drove, I bought for her. I also gave her four thousand dollars a month in child support that we agreed upon. Her home and car were paid off, so she didn’t have a lot of overhead.
“It’s been too long since I’ve seen my beautiful baby girl. I needed to see my baby,” I replied. I kissed her cheek as I held her in my arms.
Her little face tightened. “Are those mean doctors messing with my awesome daddy again? I can go kick them in their leg if you want.”
I chuckled at her protectiveness. She got that honestly. I would blow the world up over my baby, then dare the Lord to send me to hell for it. “No, baby. You know your daddy handled it.” When she gave me her littleI know that’s right, DaddyI laughed hard. Once I had her in her booster seat inside of my sedan, I asked her, “Okay, do you want to go get some ice cream or go see your granny?”
Her face lit up. I knew what her answer would be. “I want to go see Granny. I want one of those apple cinnamem rolls.” Saying cinnamon was tough for my lil baby.
When she mentioned apple cinnamon rolls my head tilted. I pretty much knew my mother’s menu, and I didn’t recall that on the menu. I never saw cinnamon rolls on there at all.
Ayriss’s school was about fifteen minutes from my mother’s bakery,Sweetgrass and Sugar High. She was located downtown in a prime location right off the Market Place.Broughton Realtydid the damn thing when they found that location.
Ever since I was a little boy, I remembered my mother in the kitchen cooking cakes, pies, and all kinds of pastries to sell to her church and work people. If she wasn’t slaving as a nurse’s aide, she was in that kitchen. There were times I had to help her because her orders were so large. Before my cousin Beyuna moved to Philly, she helped.
My mother’s work as a nurse’s aide was a big influence on why I wanted to become a doctor. She would come home some nights crying because of the inadequacy of care that doctors would give to our community. They would gloss over our issues as if it wasn’t as important as other ethnic groups. I wanted to make a change. For me, that meant I needed to get involved from the inside.
“Granny!” Ayriss’s voice filled the shop as soon as we walked in. “Look!” She pointed back at me. “Daddy picked me up from school.”
“Look at my grand! You look beautiful out here. Yo bet not let dem boys mess wit’ you. Let dem know ya grandmama fight churn,” my mother jested. Well, knowing her ass, she wasn’t joking at all.
I laughed. “Mama, stop threaten’ people churn. Somebody mama gonna come in here an box you off.”
Her head bucked back. “Who da hell in dey right mind would come in ya and try to box me off? They ass ga meet my hands and my bullets. Stop playin’ wit me, Erygon.”
I burst into laughter. The shop was full today. I was so proud of my mother, Beauvia, for the success of the bakery. It was opened five years ago after one of my investments atWashington-Smith Brokerage Firmhit big. It was a gift to her for Mother’s Day.
Not only did the shop sell sweets, but it also sold sweetgrass baskets. Her claim to fame was her signature sweetgrass cake. She was blessed with the gift of being able to decorate a cake to look like a sweetgrass basket. A customer could literally bring in a basket, and she could replicate its style in cake form. It was exquisite.
“Granny, can I have a apple cinnamem roll?” Ayriss asked her as she pulled on her apron. “Did Miss Lovina make dem today?”Lovina?
My mother leaned down to kiss my baby’s forehead. “You know she did. She back der. Go ask her to get you one. I think some jus came out da oven.”
You didn’t have to tell Ayriss twice. She shot off to the kitchen without a second thought. She knew how to be safe in there and watch herself.
“Mama, who is Lovina? I ain’t never heard of her before,” I told her. My mama was picky as fuck about who worked in her shop as a cashier more less who baked in her kitchen.
My mama moved behind the counter. She helped a customer before she answered me. “She the sweetest lil thing. She’s friends with Beyuna and just moved here from Philadelphia. She needed some help, and the Holy Spirit told me that I should. When she told me she could bake, I had her bake me some things. Son, it was the best pastries that I’d ever tasted.”
My mama told me that she would get her from the back and bring me one of Lovina’s cinnamon rolls. A few moments later, my baby came out of the kitchen with a plate in her hand. On it was the biggest cinnamon roll that I’d ever seen.Well, damn!If it tasted as good as it smelled, then I understood why my mother hired her. “Daddy, taste mine,” Ayriss demanded when she set the plate in front of me.
I used the fork that she handed to me. I forked off a piece of it and put it in my mouth. I had to close my eyes from the goodness of the taste.
“Son, this is Lovina.” My mother’s voice knocked me out of my admiration for the taste of this cinnamon roll that I had a feeling I would be addicted to.
When I opened my eyes, my right ear lowered to my shoulder. I was confused as hell by what I saw. Lovina was a beautiful and I do mean beautiful girl as plain as she was. I could tell that she didn’t have on a lick of makeup. It highlighted her flawless skin and complexion. That wasn’t what threw me off. What she wore was . . . I don’t even know what it was.
