Page 3 of When It’s All Said And Done

“Yeah, my body just under a lot of stress,” I downplayed.

“I can understand the stress, but when was your last period? You’re usually asking me to bring you some feminine products, but this month you ain’t asked for shit.”

As I thought about this month it finally dawned on me that I hadn’t asked or brought anything for a period. Mama Eva disappeared and came back with a pregnancy test for me to take. They left me alone in the bathroom as I tapped the test against my hand and paced the floor. The last thing I needed to add on my plate right now was a damn child. But I’d be a fool to think the symptoms weren’t there.

“Well, what does it say?” Mama Eva questioned me as I entered the living room.

“It, uh, it, uh,” I stumbled over my words as I held the tip covered test in my hand.

“Give me this,” Yas grabbed the test from me. “Oh, shit. It says she’s pregnant!”

“Ooh, I knew I dreamed of fish for a reason the other night,” Mama Eva smiled brightly.

“We aren’t tellin’ Nas,” I sternly instructed causing Yas to look at me like I was crazy.

“Wait, what?” Mama Eva snapped her head in my direction.

“He made it very clear that we were done,” I reiterated. “If you want anything to do with my child, we’ll respect my wishes. Nas will not know about my child, understood?”

“I hope this isn’t permanent. But I understand,” Mama Eva reluctantly agreed. “I just hope that this is something you’ll be able to explain once he gets out.”

“I’m doin’ what’s best for me, like he did.”

Chapter 2

Nasir “Nas” Wilson

*5 years later*

“If this isn’t one helluva birthday gift, I don’t know what else,” Office Bradwell expressed as he gave me back my belongings.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed as I accepted my things.

“I don’t want to ever see you here again, Nas.”

“I promise you, I ain’t never steppin’ foot in another prison in my life. Y’all only gettin’ these five years I gave y’all outta me. I’ll never be back.”

He nodded his head in understanding before buzzing me through the doors. The air smelled different as I stepped outside of the prison I’d been in for the last five years. With my freedom restored, I made my way to the bus station. After a few inner-city bus rides, and a very long Greyhound bus ride, I was back in Miami. After I got off the bus, I called a cab to take me to Mama Eva’s house.

When we pulled up, it felt as though no time had passed because everything was the exact same. The street was clear, which was surprising to me as I made my way in. Fishing my keys out of my pockets, I was happy my key still worked. The nostalgia hit me as I stepped over the threshold, and then reality hit me when she didn’t bend that corner to greet me. Two years into my sentence, Mama Eva had a heart attack and died. The prison did allow me to furlough so I could attend but that shit still was a hard pill to swallow. When I received her deed to the house a week before my release, I was confused but happy I had a place to go when I got out.

A noise pulled me out of my thoughts as I grabbed a knife. Stepping slowly, I made my way into the living room. When I flicked on the light, I was greeted with a woman holding a gun. As I tried to place a name to her face, I dropped my knife before holding my hands up in surrender. I watched her intensely as she stood to her feet and used one to slide the knife closer to her. No words were exchanged as we held our stare. It wasn’t until she started laughing that I became confused about what was going on.

“Damn, you look just like yo’ dad,” she shook her head as she continued to laugh.

“I don’t know you or that nigga,” I hissed.

“Damn, I at least thought you’d know the face of your mom since you saw it every day throughout this house,” she expressed as she looked around at the many pictures of her in the living room.

“Why would I want to remember the face of the woman who never wanted me. What you doin’ here, Nina?”

“Nasir Santiago Wilson, you will show me some fuckin’ respect.”

“Respect?! You can’t be fuckin’ serious right now. I gotta respect a muthafucka who didn’t even want me. You gotta be outta yo’ rabbit ass mind.”

“I wanted you! Hell, we both fuckin’ wanted you!”

She reached in her back pocket with her free hand before tossing a picture at my feet. As she put away her gun, she instructed me to pick it up. In the photo was a younger version of herself resting her head on a Hispanic man that was holding a baby. The bottom of the photo had ‘Nasir, Mommy and Daddy’ written on it. I continued to study the photo and just like she’d expressed I looked like every spit of my dad. Just a little darker thanks to my mom’s genes. So many things ran through my head as I thought of the many times Mama Eva told me my mom didn’t want me and she ran off with a man.