Page 8 of Mister Teacher

Though I was the one who said I didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t help but say, “Thank you for stopping by.”

“Always. I told you, no matter what, I will always be here for you.”

“Can you tell Honey I’m okay?”

“I texted her and told her I had you, but I can’t lie and tell her you’re okay when it’s clear you aren’t.”

Nibbling my cheek, I considered what I wanted to say next. He was right—Iwasn’tokay. I thought about my baby every day. Some days were harder than others. The month I lost them, though, was always the hardest. That month was always filled with hurt, anger, confusion, and grief. I’d always wanted a baby, a husband… the dog and white picket fence. It felt like God had given me hope that what I wanted was about to come to fruition just to rip it all away in an instant. I kept telling myself He’d taken my baby for a reason. Even if I never knew why, it was for a reason. That didn’t take away the anger fully, though, and I hated myself for that. Hated myself for hatingHimfor that.

I wanted to love Him just as much as I used to, but there was so much resentment stored up in my heart because of the miscarriage. I couldn’t even pray to be able to forgive Him. My baby was lent to me, not even long enough for me to hold them in my arms, but they were a loan no less. One that had always belonged to Him. While I first felt immense honor in being chosen to love and nurture my baby for Him here on earth, I felt like a failure when they died. Was my womb not strong enough to carry and birth them? Did He believe I wouldn’t be a good enough mother? My mind had begun to spiral with crazy thought after crazy thought to the point where I wasn’t thinking anything at all… just crying.

“I um… I had a miscarriage two years ago.” His arm loosened for a brief moment before he wrapped it around me even tighter. “Last year I was able to work my way through it but this year I was just… tired. I didn’t have the energy to go to work or do anything else for that matter. I haven’t been able to get out of the bed since… I don’t know when.”

“I’m so sorry, Janae. My condolences for your loss. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

I smiled with one side of my mouth as I pushed back my tears. “You’d think I’d be all cried out by now but that’s all I have the strength to do.”

“Then cry. Let those tears cleanse you and heal you. Let them all out.”

I appreciated that. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t try to stifle how I was feeling, offer advice, or tell me to stop crying. I rested my body against him a bit more as the tears continued to stream. He placed a kiss to the top of my head that broke me down even more. I turned in his arms, needing to feel closer to him. Needing to feel his heart on mine. Hoping that would strengthen me.

“I got you, Nae,” he whispered into my hair before kissing the top of my head again. “I got you.”

All I could do was cry harder. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, needed him, until I had him.

CHAPTER5

Tyreek

Several hours had passed since I’d arrived at Janae’s place. I was able to bathe her and convince her to drink a smoothie, but she didn’t want any food yet. That was progress, so I would settle for it. I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling, and I prayed I never did. Every person that I knew who had lost a child—either before birth or after—all expressed the same thing… that it was a hurt and loss that nothing else topped. That it was something they carried with them every day of their lives.

Instead of getting back in bed, Janae sat on the small cream loveseat by her windows. I sat in the chair next to it, wanting to give her space until she asked for my presence. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she had her arms wrapped around them. I never thought the first time I saw her naked would be to bathe her while she silently cried.

Janae had a natural beauty that shined through even when she was sick, tired, or depressed. Her bra strap length relaxed hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. There wasn’t any makeup on her face, and even with her cinnamon brown skin, her lips, cheeks, and nose were red from all the crying she’d been doing. Her body was covered with an oversized sweatshirt, exposing nothing but her legs while her feet were covered in black tube socks.

Because of the layout of her home, including her bedroom, the open design and hardwood floors had it cold as hell. Even with her heat being on seventy-eight degrees, we still had to turn two small space heaters on to get some warmth. The pads of my fingers were slightly shriveled, so I knew she had to be cold too. Unable to keep my distance any longer, I walked over to the loveseat and sat next to her. Pulling her into my arms, I covered her with the blanket that was tossed over the back of the sofa as she wrapped her arms around my waist. She released a quiet sigh and snuggled against me, breathing heavily against my neck.

“Have you looked into getting your vents and units checked out? It’s cold as hell in here.”

“Yes. Both units work and the vents are open. They said because my ceilings are so high and because my bedroom is positioned the way it is, it’s hard for me to get warmth and sunlight like the rest of the house. You know I’m hardly ever in here, so it usually doesn’t bother me. I have the fireplace on in the living room and that warms up the main areas. We can go upstairs to one of the guest rooms if you want. They’re closer to the sun and carpeted, so it’s cozier up there.”

“Yeah, let’s go up there.”

Janae chuckled as she sat up. “Okay.” As we stood, she asked, “Are you hungry? You don’t have to go without just because I’m not eating.”

“I’m cool for right now. I might order a pizza in a few hours.”

“You plan on staying that long?”

“I told you I’m not leaving until you tell me to.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to leave any time soon.”

I wanted to let that stroke my ego, but I couldn’t. Janae didn’t want me here because she loved me and enjoyed me; she wanted me here because she was hurting, and I made her feel better. I was honored to be that person for her, but I would have preferred her to be at peace, even if that meant it wasn’t with me.

As we walked out of her bedroom through the dining room and living room to the stairs, I held her hand. She stuck close to my side, like there was something in the house that would harm her. As soon as we made it upstairs I immediately felt a difference in the temperature. We went into the guest bedroom that was directly across from the stairs, and it was decorated in the same brown and cream color scheme as all four bedrooms, including hers. She had a bonus room that she’d converted into a home theater and smaller room downstairs that she did her sewing and crocheting in.

It was clear she made a good living as a nurse but more than that, she seemed to manage her money well and have good credit. From her social media and the conversations she had with Honey, I could tell they used to travel a lot and be the plugs for hookups and tips on financial literacy. Those were traits I wanted my life partner to have. Though I made damn good money with all of my endeavors, I wanted someone who appreciated what I had to offer, not just someone who would blow it. I believed women were incubators and influencers. That they would increase whatever you gave them—good or bad.

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