Echoes of The Block

Diamontè

California, Los Angeles
March 13, 2023
6:45 p.m.

Sitting in my old room at my mom's house, I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I run the flat iron through my hair. The familiar smell of hot metal and hair products brings back memories of high school mornings. It's funny how things change. Back then, I used to dream about this moment—being a mom, having a family. But now that I'm twenty-five and pregnant, life feels a lot more complicated.

I set the flat iron down and gently comb my hair. My mind drifts back to when I was a little girl. I used to play with my dolls, imagining they were my children. I'd dress them up, feed them, and pretend to put them to sleep. I always thought I'd have it all figured out by now. But here I am, pregnant with Dominic's child, and we can't seem to stop arguing.

Dominic and I have had our good moments, but the bad ones seem to overshadow them lately. One of our latest arguments was about his clown ass getting me pregnant even though he knew that there's a possibility that he has a child on the way. Crazy right? It's exhausting, and sometimes I wonder if we're really cut out for this.

Coming back to my mom's house feels like a retreat, a place where I can breathe and gather my thoughts. This room has seen so many versions of me—the teenage girl with big dreams. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla filling the room. The walls were still the same pale purple, adorned with posters of Chris Brown from my teenage years.

Despite everything, I love this little life growing inside me. I want to be a good mom, to give my child the love and stability I dreamed about when I was younger. But it's hard to see how Dominic and I can make it work when we can't even have a conversation without it turning into a fight.

My phone lights up on my vanity, making me set my flat irons down, to pick it up. I opened it reading a message from Dominic.

📱: come home. I miss you.

I smile at the text messages, knowing I miss him too. I decided to spend one more night at my mom's house before going back. I send him a quick text back and continue flat ironing my hair. I hear knocks at my door before it came open without warning. Looking through the mirror I see Heem walking in.

"What do you want?" I huff in annoyance, unplugging my purple flat irons out of the socket.

"You not happy to see yo big brotha? That's crazy." He says, picking up my bag of hot fries, from my bed.

"Heem do not open-" he opens the bag wide eyed and popped a few sticks in his mouth. Following up with 'oops'.

"Get out." I yelled getting up from my vanity chair. I went to snatch the chips out of his hand but he held it up out of my reach as he popped a few more into his mouth. "Maaaaa! Please come get your son." I yelled down to my mother, who was in the kitchen cooking. "Gimme my shit and get out Heem!"

"Heem get outta her room! Cmere I need you to do me a favor!" My mother yells back.

He goes to walk out with my bag of chips in his hand, I grab the back of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. "Cmon D chill. I'll buy you another bag lemme have these, I got the munchies bad as fuck." He explains, but I clearly didn't give a fuck.

"No. You should've bought you sum on the way over. So no." I state. He takes a handful out of the bag, passed the bag to me and flew down the stairs before I could find something to throw at him.