one shots

shorty swing my way [17]

may 1999
7:43 pm
thursday

"I just wanted to make sure you got in safely," my mother continued to badger me as I disarmed my alarm and unlocked my front door.
"I'm fine. You see I'm fine," I groaned as I opened the door and stepped into my home.

"Yeah, you look fine, but how do I know you're fine?" she stated.
"Because I'm telling you that I am. Ma, seriously. . . I'm fine," I assured her, facing her while one of my hands rested against the doorway so she wouldn't barge into my house.

"Baby, this is when you need the most support. You just miscarried and—"
"Mama, I don't need a reminder," I spoke lowly.
"I know, but I wanna' be there for you because DeAndré sure as hell wasn't," she caught an attitude.
"He drove me to the hospital, Ma," I reminded her.
"And, that was the last you heard from him. He didn't visit you in the hospital. He didn't even call," my mother spoke in distaste.

"I was only there for a day, Mama. It's not that serious," I sighed.
"It is when we're talking about your child! What the hell was he doing that was more important—"

"Ma!" my voice rose in order to get her to pipe down.

"It's late, and I need to rest. I need some time by myself," I informed her.
She took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. Losing a child can be a very hard thing to endure, but I just wanted to remind you that you don't have to go through this alone. Even if that square-headed little boy makes you feel alone, I want you to know that you aren't."

"Thanks, Mama. I love you," I hugged her with a slight smile on my face.
"I love you too, baby. Call me when you feel like talking," she stated.

I nodded and wished her a good night. I watched her get in her car and drive off before sighing deeply.

I closed and locked my door before leaning back against it and taking a moment to gather my thoughts.

I can't front like I'm not disappointed about this entire situation. I've felt nothing but depression consume me since that night I miscarried. I also felt support from my mother and Sheila, but it didn't fill the void of DeAndré's absence. It would've helped to have the father of my baby there for me, but I imagine that he's got his own way of grieving. Looking at me without a baby being there would only remind him of the tragic turn of events.

I didn't even want to look at myself.

I felt like less than a woman. The main purpose of my body is to produce life, and I can't even do that shit. The doctor told me that I might have lost the baby due to chromosomal abnormalities— that it wasn't my fault.

Hearing my doctor tell me that didn't help lift the dark cloud from over my head. All I could think was: that's what I get for getting my hopes up. At this point, I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry myself to sleep.

I found myself sitting on the floor crying only moments after my mother left. I sobbed while hugging myself, wishing that it was DeAndré's arms around me instead.

In the midst of my crying, I could hear what sounded like a lighter sparking. I glanced up, toward the living room, to see a small circle of light in the darkness. It was of course a blunt, which was confirmed as I slowly stood and approached my dark living room.

I started to reach toward the light switch, tears still streaming down my face as my heart began pounding against my chest.

"Don't turn on the light," the deep voice stated, relief washing over me as I realized that it was just DeAndré.

"I'm glad you're here, D. Uh. . . why didn't you come see me in the hospital?" I sniffled, wiping my tears as I approached where I remembered the couch to be.