I Killed Him....

I can't lie and say that it was an act of rage or passion.

I won't say that I regret my actions and wish that I could undo them.

Today, I committed murder with malice and plenty of forethought. Once it was done, I was glad that I followed through on my thoughts and murdered the father of my child.

It wasn't an easy decision, but it wasn't a hard one either. For so long now, I've had to live with so much anger and rage and I finally feel as if that burden has been lifted from me. Of course there are plenty of things that I will never be able to say to him.

Even more things that I'll never again hear him say to me or Bird....but I'm really and truly ok with that.

It's been six months since the final conversation between the two of us and with the way things have deteriorated, I know without a shadow of a doubt, there wasn't any hope for reconciliation.

So he's dead.

At least to my daughter and myself.

I killed him off in my head. In case you were wondering, I pictured him as the victim of a horrific car accident where he was thrown from the car and severely mangled and dismembered, although he didn't die until hours later from his internal injuries. I pictured a lovely memorial service for him as well.

I know it seems drastic to say that someone is dead, however...

It has been six months.

Six months of me wondering if he'll ever pick up the phone to acknowledge the existence of his child. Six months of waiting for some type of support or financial assistance as I care for her. Six months of wondering why I don't even receive common courtesy and respect from the person who once called me their best friend. Six months of watching him coo and adulate his new daughter and become so enthralled with his new family.

Six long ass months.

That's a long time to have salt rubbed in your open wounds.

So I decided that in order for me to heal and stop wondering why he didn't call, I had to provide him with a good reason for why he couldn't call.

And everyone knows that dead men don't know how to use cell phones....

It's A...

Boy?

How do I raise a man to be a man? I'm a woman! What do I know about being a black man in America. I'm still learning how to be an African American female on a daily basis. How do I teach him how to brush his hair? How do I teach him to stand up and use his privates? Oh dear God. What about when he grows up and really learns to use his privates? Im supposed to tell him to always wear a condom and watch out for little girls who are too fast for their own good? I mean, I can tell him the basics of being a gentleman. To always open doors, to walk on the outside of the street. To open car doors and to never ever hit a female. But how do I teach him to beat the shit out of the other little boys? And I can braid his hair, but what about if he wants hair cuts? Which way does he brush his hair? Does he wear a durag at night? Does he use hair grease? What if he's gay? I mean, I'll love him anyways, but what if?

Girl?

Why me? How do I teach this little girl to grow up to be a lady? I'm still learning on a daily basis. I can teach her the basics of hygiene, but dear lord, do I really have to have those talks with her? I'm going to have to show her what to do when she gets her period? And Jesus be motrin, midol and a house with soundproof walls if she gets PMS like I get PMS. How do I protect her from all the men who want to prey on young girls? How do I teach her to protect her reputation as well as her virtue?

A baby?

So now I have to instill a set of values in this kid? Teach them right from wrong? Make sure that they're well provided for, reasonably well adjusted and well rounded? What do I do if they like weird shit like computers and bugs? Or marine biology and Pink Floyd. Oh dear God, what if they want to grow up and be "urban". Can I handle a thug ass child? I'm not a thug. I don't know anything, how am I supposed to teach them something. What about when they go to school. I have to help them with homework!

A child....

Revelations

I will say, that I could have told him in a better way.

I could have used my nice voice. I could have cushioned the blow. Hell, I could have provided alcohol to numb the shock.

But it's not like any of that was available to me, so why should I have been the only one to absorb the shock.

We were having an argument.

Then again, in those days, when WEREN'T we arguing. I'd love to place the entire blame on him and say that the argument was all his fault, but I dont really remember.

It probably was, I just can't guarantee that for sure and of course my hormones were out of control, so there's a slight possibility that he'd done something stupid as usual and I just didnt have the patience to over look it as usual.

I know the argument ended with me driving to his apartment building and posting up in the front, waiting for him to come to the doors so that I could confront him.

At least that was my intention.

I got disgusted with myself for being the stereotypical crazy pregnant broad outside of someone's apartment building at 1 in the morning so I drove off.

Not before calling him to let him know exactly how close he'd come to an ass whooping on his home turf that night.

We were both talking shit to each other, so that wasn't what set me off. It was the off hand remark he made, without malice, but with sincerity,that made me take a sharp breath, cover my heart that made me and retaliate with the only weapon that I had at the time.

"I hate coming to work and seeing you now. I should just quit so I don't have to deal with you anymore"

The fact that he said it so plainly let me know that he meant it and before I could even think, I responded.

"Go ahead and quit. I don't care, but you'll find it awfully hard to pay child support without a job"

Magic Stick

A magic stick changed my life.

Actually, make that TWO magic sticks.

And yes, I mean EXACTLY what you think I mean when I say that.

The first magic stick was what got me into this mess. I became infatuated and stayed around, loooongg past the time I should have.

The second one, well, it was my fault for playing with the first too long.

I'd just returned home from an impromptu visit to see my baby sister off to prom. All was wonderful and she looked and felt like a princess going to the ball, which was exactly what I wanted for her.

I have NO idea what made me take the test. I wasn't late. I wasn't having mood swings. I had taken more naps than usual while I was home, but I attributed that to the fact that there was simply nothing of interest to do in my wannabe-big-city, small town home. I guess this would be the point where some say my motherly instinct just kicked in.

So there I was, in my house R.Kelly-ing a thin white piece of plastic. I wasn't worried or tense as I waited the requisite three minutes for results. To be accurate, I wasn't anything more than curious at that moment. Not just to find out what the results would be, but how I would react to whatever they were.

One minute....

Two minute....

Three minute....

Four.....

I finally pick the stick up from its horizontal position to decipher the results. Negative. Life could go on as it had been going on. While I pondered if I was excited or disappointed because once again, I had proof that I wasn't fit to be someone's mother, I put the stick back on the counter, arranged my clothes and went on about my business.

I ran errands, even left the house and returned. Finally went into the bathroom again about five hours later and noticed the debris from my earlier misadventures. I sat down again to handle another round of business and as I went to grab some tissue something caught my eye.

At first I couldn't pinpoint what was amiss.

No one had been in the house since I had left.

Nothing was out of place, everything just as I'd left it. But Something was different.

I picked up the pregnancy test from earlier and sat there trying to decipher what was wrong. And finally it came to me. Where earlier, one line had appeared meaning that I had correctly performed the test and received a negative result, there now appeared two lines. One so faint, that had I squinted hard enough, it would have disappeared. One line that I would bet my life had not been there earlier, but was indelibly there now.

I put the stick back down and reversed every emotion that I'd experienced earlier.

I thought about throwing up, but I didn't want to be the stereotypical pregnant woman.