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Shay leans back in her seat, her long locs cascading over her shoulders. “I think you’re self- sabotaging with the men you meet, because no matter how much you’ve changed or how much you’ve accomplished you still view yourself as that twenty-two-year-old, lost, drug addict that believes she is not worthy of love.”
I swallow, wetting my dry throat. My gaze bounces around the restaurant in desperate need to find something to ground me. The words Nic said that night play back in my head.
“She doesn’t deserve love. She’s incapable of loving.”
My watch vibrates against my wrist letting me know that it’s time to go. I’m saved by the bell.
“I have to go,” I sing, as I grab my purse off the back of the chair. “You know my babysitter is on a tight schedule.”
Shay nods knowingly. “But we will pick up this conversation next month.”
“Okay,” I playfully roll my eyes. Shay laughs as she grabs her things as well. We make our way through the restaurant, waving at our waitress and the staff we know.
“Tell Josiah and the boys I said hi,” I say as Shay and I part ways.
She gives me a brief hug before getting into her car. Before she shuts the door she calls my name. I turn to face her.
“You are worthy of love. Don’t ever forget that.”
I smile and wink at her before walking away. I appreciate all Shay has done for me. However, in this, she and I will always disagree.
I stop in front of my black Volvo.
When Fem picked me up from rehab after my six-month stint, I had plans of going to a halfway house until I could get a job and get my own place. However, I was shocked to my core to find out that not only did I have my own home, I had a bank account to go with it. Two weeks later, after I got my license, there was a brand-new Volvo XC40 parked in my driveway. To say I have been very well taken care of is an understatement.
As soon as I get in and pull off, my phone goes off. I press the handsfree option on the steering wheel. The car immediately fills with the sound of my son crying and screaming.
“Gabe, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t reply. He just continues to scream through my car speakers. My heart knocks against my chest and tears fill my eyes. Clearly, he’s having an episode.
“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.” I disconnected the call and rush to my mother’s house.
The day Gabe was born, I stared down at his little round face and realized I’ve never loved anyone or anything as much as I did him.
When Gabe turned three, he was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum. I wasn’t too shocked by the diagnosis because after paying attention to my son, I noticed a lot of his father’s behavior. I have no doubt Gabriel was also on the spectrum.
His diagnosis made me go harder for him. I wanted my son to know that I didn’t give a shit if he saw the world differently, I was going to always have his back and make sure that this world didn’t treat him differently.
I make the trip to my mother’s house in record time. I pay her $2000 a month to watch Gabe for me if needed. I wanted my son to have a relationship with my mother and sister even if I never did.
Most times, my mother only has to look after him once a month for two hours during my lunches with Shay. However, she still charges me the full price.
I park my car behind my mother’s and jump out sprinting to the front door. The sound of my son’s cries fuel my haste.
Stepping into the house, my gaze quickly scans the room. Mitchell is lying across the couch glaring at me.
After little MJ was born, my sister and her baby daddy fell on hard times. My mother invited them to move in with her. They’ve been here ever since.
“You need to take that hollering ass boy home,” Mitch shouts.
I ignore him because my concern is and always will be Gabe. I follow the sound of his cries toward the back of the house.
The moment I spot him in my mother’s room I run to him. He’s sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees up to his chest. He’s rocking back and forth, hitting his back against the wall.
I squat down in front of him. “Gabe, I’m here. Mama’s right here.”
He continues to rock and cry. I place my hand on his shoulder. He immediately goes into defensive mode. He kicks his feet out and swings his hands. I narrowly dodge getting hit in the eye.
