Page 9 of Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 3

“I finished it, Ma. Why you can’t just drop me off to my daddy’s house?” Lil Bill asked.

“Because it’s out the way. I’ll drop you over there tomorrow. Let me see this homework,” she said, and now I could see her fully.

She was all dressed up, looking like she was going on a date, just like my son said she was.

“Who the fuck you going out with tonight?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, never looking at the screen, just still checking over my son’s homework.

“Of course, I want to know! You are the mother of my child! Not even on some shit to make it seem like I’m trying to check you or be all up in your business. I just want to make sure that you straight,” I said.

Sidnesha looked up from the homework paper and at me on the phone.

“My son’s old barber, Chris. Lil Bill knows him already,” she told me, and I nodded.

“Cool. That’s all a nigga wanted to know. Bring lil man over here. I’ll drop him at school in the morning. I already am up anyway to take Khari,” I told her, and she sucked her teeth.

“I’m not taking you to get food then because I’m going to be late,” I heard her say.

“It’s fine. I’ll just eat over there. Thank you, Ma,” he said, and I saw him give his mama a hug.

Sidnesha could talk all the shit in the world that she wanted, but when it came to our son, she was a little sucker. I bet she would still drop his ass off and get him the food that he’d asked her for. To tell you the truth, it made me feel good to hear that my baby mama was dating. From the beginning, I said that the only thing I wanted to see was Sidnesha happy. I knew how hard she worked, so she deserved to let her hair down and have some fuckin’ fun.

I was down for watching my son any day of the week while she went out and had her fun. Hell, for five years, she took on the load and had to raise lil Bill on her own, while I had to sit down and do my time. The way I saw it, I owed her.

“I’ll be home in about ten minutes. Just bring him,” I said.

My son and I finished talking for a little bit more, and once we were done, I hung up.

Finally, I made it home, and when I walked in, I smelled the dinner that Normani had cooked. I didn’t hear her or Khari down there, so I assumed they were upstairs. I took the stairs, and the first room I checked was Khari’s room, but they weren’t in there. It wasn’t until I made it to our bedroom, and I heard laugher coming from the balcony that I discovered where they were. From where I stood, I could see Khari sitting in one of the chairs, and she had one of her little feet planted in Normani’s lap as Normani painted her toes. Judging by the way she had her hands planted on the sides of the chair, I could tell that she’d just gotten her fingernails painted as well.

My wife was girly as fuck, and so was my daughter, so the two of them got along just fine. Khari wanted to do everything that Normani did. She had gotten to the point now that she liked to play around in Normani’s make-up and shit, and a nigga hated that. I ain’t let her wear shit but a little bit of Chapstick. Khari had even said that she wanted to be a doctor like Normani too. I loved the bond that the two of them had, but I also liked that no matter what, Khari hadn’t forgotten about Denim.

With the flowers in my hands, I walked on the balcony and joined the two of them. Normani looked up and gave me a fake smile while Khari danced around in her chair, happy to see me.

“Look at my nails and my toes, Daddy. You like them?” Khari asked, raising her little hands, so I could see her nails, and then she pointed down to her toes. She had a light yellow, which was very appropriate for her age, so I would not trip.

“It’s cute. What’s up with your nail tech, though? Why she not speaking to Daddy?” I asked Khari about my wife.

She did a little giggle and then shrugged as if to say she didn’t know.

“I don’t know, Daddy. Maybe her mad at you,” Khari said.

“Ask her what Daddy did,” I said to Khari.

“Normani, what my daddy did?” Khari asked Normani, and then she put a sad look on her face like she really cared to know what I had done to have Normani mad at me.

“Your daddy knows what he did. Here. I’m all done. Just sit here for like five minutes and let them dry,” Normani told Khari as she sat her little feet down on the small bench.

Staring down at my wife, I swear she wasn’t the same person she was two weeks ago. I’m sure that the shit happening in our lives, especially what I told her last night, had her going through this change where she found herself being mad at me. Plus, at this point, I’d been around Normani long enough to know how her emotions worked, so she probably could sense that a nigga had been holding back from her. She probably was overworking her mind, trying to figure out what was bothering a nigga. No, it wasn’t in my plans to be withholding information from my wife, but at the same time, I ain’t really want to tell her that lately, I had just been feeling the emotions of not knowing if Denim would kick this shit.

“You must don’t want these roses that I bought for you then,” I said to Normani and stepped out of the way as she walked past me into the room.

She was dressed down in some tights and a shirt that fit a little snug on her, so her baby bump was on display. Her curly hair was hanging down loosely, and with every step she took, it swayed. I left the sliding glass door open on the balcony as I followed Normani, who had gone into the bathroom to wash her hands. When she was done, she dried them on the towels and planted the palms of her hands on the counter then sighed as she looked at us through the mirror. I was standing not too far behind her, and my arms were crossed as I waited for her to let me know what was on her mind because I knew she would.

“I’m worried about us,” she said, getting ready to start up her bullshit, just like I knew she would.

I set the roses down on the counter and looked outside of the bathroom, where Khari was still drying her feet.

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