BaBy MaMa

B-Side

He never ceased to amaze me. Pissed, I slammed my IPhone 13 down on the counter and immediately regretted the action. My insurance wasn't going to cover me for another replacement phone. Kam's temper had been the reason I'd replaced the last two after he crushed one under the car tire and threw another out of our front door.

I rotated the phone between my French-manicured hands, inspecting the screen to make sure I hadn't added another nick or ding to the glass silver casing. I could feel myself getting worked up. Kam knew I had to be at work in four hours, he knew I had contracts to review, clients to meet, and a shitload of housework on top of all that. All I ever asked was that the nigga come home when he said he would.

Trey moaned and tossed on the couch in the living room. I walked over and placed my cheek against his forehead, feeling a little bit of relief. He wasn't as hot as he'd felt earlier; maybe his fever was finally breaking. Bad enough I had to leave work early to pick him up from daycare, I couldn't afford not to go in in the morning.

He hadn't been keeping food down at all and the daycare was certain it was a flu virus. Those daycare heffas were so quick to diagnose a child and send him home. But for all I knew my baby really could have the flu, and you would think his daddy would be a little more concerned.

I lifted Trey up into my arms and carried him into his bedroom. My baby was getting so tall and lanky, big for a two-year-old. My cell rang from the other room just as I'd tucked the cover under his chin.

"Damn. Asia, you watchin' this shit on TV? They runnin' a Snapped marathon an' this mufukin' bitch killed erebody!"  Myiah was talking a mile a minute, leaving me no room to respond. "Girl, her ass was free fo' damn near ten years befo' they caught her! Fuck, she took the nigga money, sold the house—"

"Hi, My, I'm good. How are you and how did you know I was still awake?" That's how you had to do when Myiah was on one of her tirades. If I didn't interrupt she'd give me the rundown of the whole damn episode, scene by scene.

"Girl, I'm sorry. You know how my ass is when somethin' good is on. I knew you'd be up, 'cause I know you. How was your day today, sweetie?"

"Trey got sick at daycare and, as much as I didn't want to, I had no choice but to go see 'Heman-Shebitch' and tell him I needed the rest of the day off." I sighed heavily into the phone. Heman-Shebitch was the name I'd given Kenny Soloman, the regional manager of the bank I worked for and the only person hell-bent against me becoming VP of the mortgage group.

He had the whole exotic mail-order wife, picture-perfect marriage, and fake-ass persona thing down pat. He was one of those identity-confused black men who simply had a hard time dealing with an intelligent and self-assured black woman. His life's purpose was to point out to the entire senior management staff the fact that I was a twenty-four-year-old unwed black woman with a child and a hood-ass baby daddy.

"Oh, hell. Not his bitch ass! Asia, promise when you get in charge ya first order of business is gonna be to fire his whack, no-life-havin' self. He jus' mad he gotta look at yo fine ass ereday knowin' he ain' got the equipment to put it down!"

We laughed. My was always good at making me smile. "Um... so where da hell is yo' baby daddy?" You could cut the sarcasm with a knife. She knew where Kamron was, or what I should say is that she knew where Kamron claimed to be. "Same as last night and the night before, My. He's working."