On week 16 of gestation, we found out we were having a girl. Lounging around the house, I thought we'd throw around some baby names.
"I want to name our daughter Laurmani," I declared.
"What's a Laurmani?" asked Lauren.
"It's both of our names combined. Duh!"
"I don't like it," she said.
"What's wrong with it?"
"She's not going to be able to get a good job with a name like that," Lauren hypothesized.
"Are you trying to say the name sounds ghetto?" I accused.
"No, I'm trying to say the name sounds ratchet."
"And, what do you think about my name?" I questioned.
"It's not a name I would give my child, but I still love you."
I swatted her over the head a few times with a cushion from the couch. "What do YOU want to name our daughter?"
"I want to name her Angelica after my grandmother who passed a few years ago," she admitted.
"Aw, Lauren. I'm sure she would be honored, but there will only be one her. You can't replace her. She was one of a kind, but she will always be looking down on you from heaven. So, it's settled. We're naming our daughter Laurmani. By the way, it's a real name from the Hausa tribe in Nigeria," I quipped.
"I knew I wouldn't have a say in this," she grumbled.
Lauren may not have put up an argument when it came to our daughter's name, but she practically forced me to quit my job when I was seven months pregnant. When I protested her insistence that I quit, she sent a two week notice to my supervisor herself and hid my car keys the day after I was supposed to resign. I learned quickly that Lauren could be very controlling.
Laurmani was born a healthy seven pounds three ounces. She had dark-brown, curly hair; light-brown skin, and hazel eyes. She was Lauren's pride and joy. Lauren doted on her every chance she got.
One evening, Lauren was playing with Laurmani on the living room floor when we heard a knock on the door. I got up to answer it and opened the door to two men in dress shirts, slacks, ties, and badges hooked to their belts.
"Hi, I'm Detective Johnson and this is my partner Detective Fernandez with the Miami-Dade Sheriff's Office. Are you Ms. Hamilton?"
"Yes, I am," I affirmed.
"Is your partner, Sergeant Lauren Jauregui, here?"
"Yes," shouted Lauren from the background. "Let them in, Normani."
Lauren stood up with Laurmani in her arms. I took our daughter from her so Lauren could talk to the detectives without any distractions.
"Do you mind if we talk alone?" asked Detective Fernandez.
"I'll take Laurmani to her room," I announced. But, I didn't go into Laurmani's room. I stood out of sight in the hallway so I could hear what was going on in the front of the house. It sounded like the three of them took a seat at the dining room table.
"Is that your daughter?" Detective Johnson asked.
"She is," beamed Lauren.
"She's gorgeous," Johnson complimented.
"I know," Lauren boasted. Everyone broke out into laughter.
"You didn't waste any time after the death of your late partner, Camila Cabello," Fernandez pointed out.
