𝐁𝐌 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

XVIII

Genesis

"Why you been actin funny?" Kamar asks following me around the apartment.

"I'm not, fuck you talm bout?" I scrunch my face up, gathering laundry from under the kids bunk beds.

"Yes you is. You barely speak to me. Barely call back. Texting dry as fuck. You barely even look at me. Ain't letting me see the kids. This weird shit started recently, out of the fucking blue." He sits one of the beds.

"I'm sorry, I be busy. My mind is everywhere lately." I half-lie.

"Why?" He asks.

"Cuz it is. Are you done interviewing me?" I roll my eyes.

"You got a nigga." He stares at me.

"No the fuck I don't. I haven't been texting back naan nigga. I'm not tryna get pregnant again this soon. I'm just focusing on me and these kids, that's it, not a damn thang else." I wave him off.

"You such a fucking lie. If you was a real bitch, you could just say you not fucking wimme no mo. Dassit, and I'd leave yo ass alone." He mugs me.

"You know I'ma real bitch." I shrug.

"The way you ain't even deny it." He shakes his head.

"I'm just figuring my life out Kamar. Don't take it personal, it's just a lot on my mind these days." I walk out with a bag full of dirty clothes.

"Like what?" He breathes on my neck.

"Could you stop chasing me around please? I had to get they birth certificates and shit to transfer them to a new school, I had to do all them papers and shit to get them enrolled. Helping with homework, getting tutoring set up. I finally put Kyrie, Karter, Amancia, and Kevaughn in therapy." I list off.

"Ian know you got them in therapy, the fuck?" He scoffs.

"You know I always wanted the oldest ones in therapy. They the ones that remember niggas hitting me. They was old enough to remember me being high and me going through miscarriages n shit. They need it so that shit don't fuck em up when they get older." I respond.

"I'm happy but why ain't you tell me? We spost to be co-parenting." He says.

"I don't gotta tell you about every single thing I do with my kids Kamar." I sit the clothes by the door.

"Yo kids?" He repeats.

"My kids. Our kids. Yo kids. Whatever the fuck, you know what I meant." I smack my teeth.

"You weird as fuck." He looks at me disgustedly.

"I'm not tryna be weird. You overthinking and making a whole lot outta nothing. I really be coolin til you bring me into yo nonsense." I walk into my room.

"I can't deal with you. I'ma take Warrior and Kaleisha wimme this weekend." He states.

"No you not." I say simply.

"Since when the fuck do you tell me when I can and can't take my kids? I be giving you a break cuz they just as much MY responsibility." He stands in the doorway looking confused as hell.

"Boy deez my kids. If I say you ain't taking em, bitch you ain't taking em." I sit Warrior on my lap while Kaleisha sleeps at the foot of the bed.

"Aight since dey yo kids, don't expect no mo child's support from me." He nods.

"You said that like I need childs support. You forget, every time you be locked up, I be the only one supporting me and all my kids. I don't get shit else from naan other baby daddy cuz I claim them on taxes and them niggas too broke. I got dis. I don't give a fuck if I end up with THIRTY kids, I'ma always take care ah mines." I flip him off.