A Secret To Treasure

Mon'Keese Brooks

A week had passed, and it was time for me to go pick up my baby girl. Originally, I was going to pick Keyani up at her home, but Treasure wanted to see my place and make sure everything had been childproofed. LaLa had made sure of that, so I knew that was good. Honestly, I don't know what had been going on whether it was me suddenly popping up with babydoll, or something else because LaLa been tripping. She missed several conference calls this week and she didn't let me know or reschedule them. Whatever the case may be, before Key gets back, I'll be sure to restore some order around this bitch. Lala keeps talking about how she wants to go back to New York, but that's not an option. I need her more than she realizes.
As hard as I tried to be, I wasn't perfect. I firmly believe that everything about my image is true. I'm humble, God fearing, hardworking, and courageous, but I'm also an addict.
My addiction to heroin is a constant battle. Sometimes, I can go months without even thinking about using. But, since returning to Houston, I've been struggling tremendously. Being home, back where it all started, was killing me. I thought I was ready and strong enough to fight this shit, but I'm failing. The last thing I wanted to do was break my promises to LaLa, and most importantly fuck up the chance to be a father to my daughter. I just know I can't fight this shit much longer, especially not by myself.

Sighing, I was frustrated with calling Lala over and over again, I went and grabbed my keys. Taking the elevator down to her place, I was getting angrier by the second. When I arrived at her door, I knocked first for common courtesy. My knocks went unanswered, so I let myself in. Something instantly felt off. Lala loved candles and shit. She always kept her home filled with sweet scents and light. It was dark and gloomy in here. Walking though the living room, nothing was out of place. So, I headed to her bedroom.
"Alana." I called out her name.
She was wrapped up in her comforter. I couldn't even understand how she could be sleeping in here because it stunk like vomit. She must be sick.
"LaLa," I shook her. "What's wrong wit you? I been calling you all morning."
"Kee, I don't feel good, leave me alone." She groaned.
"Get up!" Pulling the comforter off her. She was naked.
Taking notice of her body, she'd gained more weight. Mostly in her stomach, but her hips, thighs, and ass looked extra full too. Her titties looked like they didn't even fit in the bra she was wearing, and I brought that bra for her a few weeks before we moved here.
Something kept drawing me back to her stomach.
"La, sit up. Lemme holla at you." She groaned and rolled over before sitting up. "You slacking. You missed the Nike call, and didn't send the Powerade contract to the lawyer. You slipping means we both missing money. I don't know if you homesick or what, but you can't be sitting up in this bitch eating your feelings away. One, it's not healthy, and two it's not gone change shit. Get it together today!" I fussed.
"Eating? Oh, you think I'm gaining weight because I'm eating? Typical. I'm fucking pregnant you moron! I'm pregnant for a nigga who can't even notice that I'm not right. I'm tired Mon'Keese, I can't eat because I can't stop throwing up. Your contract? It's in my briefcase that I threw up in because I've been having motion sickness. My head was buried in the toilet during the Nike call on Wednesday. Yet, here it is, fucking Sunday and you just decided to pull yo head out your ass, take an elevator 6 flights down, and use a key that you been had to come see about me!" She yelled. "I don't care how much fucking money you missed. Maybe that'll keep your nose free of dope. I can't baby sit you and this baby right now. I'm packing my shit and I'm going home!"

I was in a daze.
"Pregnant?"
"The ultrasound is on the dresser. When you leave, take it with you. You can take the keys to Jag too, and when I leave, I'll bring you the key to this apartment. Get the fuck out." She yelled before walking into the bathroom.
Turning around and looking at the dresser, the first thing I saw was several black and white pictures the last one saying, "It's a boy".
I didn't even know what to say. I picked up the pictures and walked out of the apartment.
I fucked up again.