Page 49 of Delirium 2

He cared.

He cared so fucking much.

Too much.

I looked away.

“Call me if you need me,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I will.”

I wanted to tell him I needed him now. Wanted to tell him I needed one of those big hugs. But I was nipping shit in the bud, remember? So, I said nothing as I watched him walk out of the room.

Once he was out, I fell back on the bed, put my eyes to the ceiling and bawled.

I laid there for a good fifteen minutes, crying my eyes out until I felt like enough was enough. Sitting up, I felt around my bed for my phone and carried it to the bathroom with me. While I was in there, I played a calming sound bowl video on YouTube while I brushed my teeth and washed my face.

Once I was finished in the bathroom, I went to get First Lady up. Surprisingly, she was sitting on side of the bed staring out of the window at that red cardinal that visited her each morning. I sat in a chair, across from the bed, with her for about five minutes, playing that sound bowl video, before I told her it was time for breakfast.

When we got to the kitchen, I looked around for the food, surprised to see that it was pretty tidy. He’d cleaned up after himself. Since the food wasn’t out, I assumed it was in the microwave. When I opened its door, I gasped, caught off guard by the corn dogs sitting on a plate.

Homemade sausage and pancake corn dogs.

Bro.

Exodus made me home made corn dogs.

Nipping shit in the bud was going to be hard as hell.

10

EXODUS

She looked up at me with dipped brows, standing between the door and its frame.

“Hey,” Jada softly said. “What are you—what are you doing here?”

I pushed the door opened, stepping inside, the smell of lavender and eucalyptus hitting my nostrils as soon as I did. Raising the grocery bag, I showed her why I was there. She knew. She had to know. Did she really think sending me a picture of a positive pregnancy test was going to mean something to me? I was a man who dealt in facts, and facts only.

It’d been three days since the picture came through.

Waited three days to address it on purpose. I liked three’s, remember?

Didn’t even have to go to Big G about this one. Shit no. For what? I knew what to do the minute that picture came in. Jada had to know me well enough to know I would never take her word for it when it came to something like that. There was no sweat off my back, seeing that shit. It didn’t move me. Didn’t shake me. Had no effect on me. I was chilling. Chilling so much that when she sent message after message after I didn’t reply to it, I didn’t give a fuck. She was in the thread going nuts. Calling me a deadbeat, saying shit like she couldn’t believe I’d turned out to be ‘one of those’. Sent long paragraphs about how she was going to raise her baby just fine without me. Said lil’ shit about child support. The whole nine. I ignored her. Opened every last one of them, driving her crazy because my read receipts were on. She called a couple of times. Instead of blocking her, I let it ring, only sending it to voicemail a couple of times. That shit drove her nuts.

She probably thought I was here to choke her dumb ass out for talking crazy to me. By the shakiness in her voice, I’d say yeah. But I wasn’t on that type of time. Jada was a woman and women… they’re naturally emotional. So, I didn’t trip. Didn’t give a fuck about anything she said, for real. Words had no effect on me. She could go off. She didn’t have to worry. I didn’t even plan on addressing it. I truly didn’t give a fuck.

The whole situation was heavy on her. I could tell. Felt it the minute she opened the door. Her energy was heavy. Low. Drowning. A little busy. She was dressed in an oversized Chrome Hearts tee that once belonged to me and a pair of black biker shorts. Her hair was up in a bun on top of her head, and she didn’t have on a lick of makeup. The dark bags under her eyes was a clear indication of how much sleep she hadn’t gotten.

“Hello?” Jada called out, questioning my silence.

I lifted the Family Dollar bag I had on me. “I need you to piss on this stick for me, sweetheart.”

Shifting my attention away from her, I took in the crib. She’d made it a home. There were pictures on the walls and everything. All of her. Blown up, big and obnoxious as hell, sitting on the wall opposite of the flat screen TV she had mounted. Shorty had a new sectional, one of them fluffy rugs I hated, and fake ass plants. Had to go the fake plant route because the only thing Jada was capable of taking care was her fuckin’ self. And she didn’t even do a good job at that all of the time. Despite the house being decorated, it was mess. The mirrored coffee table was covered with fast food containers, bottles, cups, napkins, recording shit. It was a mess. Couch and floor were just as bad off. All but one area of the crib was dirty. The den. Where she had her recording shit set up.

“You want me to take a pregnancy test?” She asked, like she was slow as shit.

I looked over at her, squinted and said, “What you think I mean by piss on a stick, Jada?”