I hope you happy, I hope you happy
I hope you ruined this shit for a reason, I hope you happy, igh!Baby Blue x Action Bronson ft. Chance the Rapper
"What the fuck did you just say?" I asked her. I wish I had a mirror to see how upset I looked right now. My jaw was clenched and I subconsciously balled my fists up. "I'm leaving and you have to take Lei, I'm not taking her with me." She spoke louder this time.
"What the fuck you mean you leaving? Where you going?" I asked. "I'm not supposed to tell you." She spoke again. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with a kid, Keisha!?" I barked at her. "You think I fucking know, B?! I can't be nobody's mother right now! I can barely take care of myself!" She cried.
She looked a mess. Her normally perfectly pressed, bone straight hair was now sitting on top of her head in a raggedy bun, tied with a rubber band. Her eyes, normally sparkling, held this strange pleading look. She donned a grey pair sweatpants, a back long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black Nike Roshes.
"I can't do it." She cried. I clenched my jaw and looked back at my four month old daughter. She was strapped in her car seat, sleeping, while her mother and I engaged in this argument. "I tried to do this shit, but I can't. I'm broke and I have nowhere to go, I have no choice." She continued.
"You can stay with me and my mama." I tried to reason with her. "B, you know that lady don't like me. She isn't gonna be for that shit and you know it." Keisha said.
I knew it was the truth but, I wasn't tryna hear that shit. She couldn't do this shit to me right now. I was already working two jobs to support all of us. I was using the paycheck from UPS to pay bills at my mama house, just to make sure we had a roof over our heads. The paycheck I got from Papa Johns was for pampers, formula, and anything else my babygirl would need. The few dollars I had left, I split it between gas for my old ass 1996 Kia Sephia, food, and buying clothes when I had enough for a new shirt or if I was lucky, a pair of shoes.
"Kei, what the fuck am I supposed to do?" I asked her again. My anger was now subsiding and being replaced with fear. I couldn't raise Leilani by myself. "I can't fucking raise a baby, by myself. Fuck Kei! We supposed to be doing this shit together!" I snapped. "Who gon' watch her while I'm working? You know my mama work from sun up to sun down."
"I don't know." She shrugged. She looked down at her feet and began fidgeting with her fingers. "I knew I should have gotten that abortion." I heard her mumbled.
"Yo, shut the fuck up." I spat at her. I wanted to slap the spit out her fucking mouth. "You forever saying that shit, when things get hard. No matter what the fucking circumstances, my daughter is a blessing. She's supposed to be here, God wanted her here, didn't I tell you that shit way back when?"
The more I thought about her leaving us, the more the anger came rushing back. I looked back at my princess, sleeping peacefully before looking back at her mother. "Matter fact, get the fuck off my porch with that shit." I shooed her not wanting to even argue anymore.
I bent down to pick up Leilani's baby bag, decorated with pink and white polka dots, and threw it over my shoulder. "Man, don't you got somewhere to be?" I asked her when I stood up. Still seeing her here was pissing me off.
"Bryson." She sniffled. "I don't want to leave with us on bad terms. I just gotta get my shit together and I'll come back." "Keisha, get the fuck off my porch." I told her again. I wasn't tryna hear that shit. I picked up Leilani's car seat and opened my front door. When I was inside, I slammed it shut and turned the locks.
YOU ARE READING
Just Another Interlude (A Bryson Tiller Story)
General FictionInterlude (n): is defined as an intervening or interruptive period, space, or event. These intervals in time are often accompanied by new experiences, new memories, or new people. But, in Bryson's case, it's all the above. (Updates every Friday)