Page 30 of Cause When You Love Someone

Ishmael

S afe

“Clarke, you can’t be serious! How many times are you going to call me?” The silent line caused me to push a heavy exhale through my nose. “Hello? Clarke, you there?”

“I’m here. I’m just trying to figure out if I want to cry or curse you out for raising your voice at me.”

“Mama, I?—”

“No. Forget it. I won’t call you anymore. Just hurry your ass up with my food.”

Clarke hung up in my face, and my tight lips relaxed into a smile.

Five months left in her pregnancy, and Clarke’s attitude bordered between brat and baby depending on the day.

I promised myself I would continue to eat up every emotion she threw at me as long as the night ended with us coming to an agreement.

The house was quiet when I entered, giving me time to empty my hands in the kitchen before I had to face the madwoman.

“Damnit!” I cringed once I reached my bedroom and almost fell over a stack of boxes. “Clarke. What is all this? I thought we agreed to cut back on shopping.”

She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom wearing a sports bra and shorts. The scowl dressing her face made me assume she was still in her feelings. “For your information, those are things you ordered.”

I strolled over to the pretty lady. “You mad at me? If I hurt your feelings that wasn’t my intention. I just don’t like hearing you worry.”

She snuggled into my chest, giving me the chance to adorn the top of her head with kisses.

“I know I can’t hover, but . . . I’ve been having bad dreams. Ones where you . . .”

“Hey. Let’s pray. Close your eyes.” I placed my forehead against hers and took ahold of her hands.

“Dear heavenly Father, we first come to You to say, thank You for all You’ve provided purely out of love.

We aren’t worthy of Your kindness, and yet, You allow us to wake up every morning and thrive.

In the midst of the grace You give, I ask You to cover Clarke.

To create a space for clear thinking. I ask that You comfort her when the devil tries to pollute her thinking.

I praise You in advance, Lord, because I know it is already done.

Now, all the believers under the sound of my voice say, Amen. ”

Once I knew Clarke’s mind was at ease, I climbed into bed next to her and massaged her bump. It wasn’t huge, but there was no mistaking she was pregnant.

“What do you have planned for today?” I asked.

“I think I want to paint my belly. I’ve been looking at pictures on Pinterest.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Aww, shit. I’m down.”

“No, you’re not. You said you were studying today not playing with me.”

“Oh, baby. I will always find time to play with you.”

Her upper lip sharpened. “Talking like that after you just finished talking to God. You’re going to hell,” she teased as she disappeared into the closet. In a blink of an eye, she returned with a labor stimulator in hand. “Care to make a wager?”

I bobbed my head. “I’m listening . . .”

“I’ll give you a quiz. If you get the answers right, I strip. You get it wrong, and I trigger a contraction.”

A sharp laugh rippled from my throat. “I swear I’m mad I let you buy that.”

“You should’ve never let the words labor and manageable leave those pretty lips.”

I fell back on the bed thinking about what sparked the debate. One day, we watched a water birth on YouTube, and I made the mistake of judging the pain level. Clarke purchased the contraction simulator the same night and had been trying to get me to try it ever since.

“I guess I found Superman’s Kryptonite.”

My head jerked back. “I’m not turning down nothing. Hook it up.”

Clarke took about five minutes to place pads over my bare chest and grab my flashcards, and by the time she was done, I was trembling.

“I don’t know why you’re shaking. If you scared, go to church.” She giggled. “All right, Mr. Harden, what is an algorithm?”

“That’s easy.” I rambled off the text-book answer. “I know I’m right. Take the top off.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and stripped out of her bottoms. “You got lucky. Give me the four basic principles of OPP?”

Too cocky for my own good, I spat out the answer without much thought.

“Wrong!” She pressed the button, triggering a growl to split my lips apart. “Yeah! It doesn’t feel good, does it?” She triggered a second contraction without warning.

“What the hell, Clarke?”

“Ha! That’s for yelling at me earlier. Let’s keep going.”

I shook my head, trying to shake away the wringing in my ears. “Watch. I’m going to stick my dick so deep in your pussy, you might get pregnant with another baby.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound like the worst idea.” Her eyes reached for the ceiling. “I know you’re trying to butter me up.”

As she paced back and forth, Clarke issued a third question. When I realized I didn’t know the answer, I squeezed the arm of the chair.

“Fuck.” I shut my eyes as the pain level moved from a six to an eight. Sweat littered my forehead, and my heart felt like it had launched into my ribcage. “All right, baby.”

“All right what?”

“You win,” I muttered.

She stuck her neck out and pulled her hair behind her ear. “Whatchu say? I can’t hear you.”

“I said you win, mama. That shit hurts so bad, I understand why women demand push gifts.” I peeled the sticky pads off my chest. “You can have anything you want after you push my baby out. Hell, I’ll buy it now.”

“I’m happy you said that. I have the list ready in my notes.” She finished pulling the contraption off my skin with glee in her eyes. “You lost so that means you need to study.”

“Hell no. Isabella isn’t here. I don’t want to spend my alone time away from you. I’ll help you paint, and later, you’ll help me really study.”

She rose up on her tippy toes and kissed my nose. “I’ll go get the materials. You grab a sheet and meet me in the backyard.”

Summertime in Silk Hills was usually scorching, but we were blessed with a breeze.

The familiar smell of orange trees danced in the air, and in the distance, I could hear kids playing at a nearby park.

While Clarke removed paint and brushes from a box, I spread a white sheet over the grass.

Once our set up was complete, I faced the lady in charge. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

She shifted her weight to one foot. “I was thinking you could turn my belly into a basketball, but what if it’s a girl?” She tapped her chin. “What about an egg?”

I smirked. “What’s the next option?”

“Can you draw a fishbowl with a goldfish inside?”

I walked over and kneeled in from of Clarke. “We’re about to find out.”

An hour of bickering, laughing, and Clarke posing like she was an easel turned into a memory neither of us would forget. I was no Picasso, but I got as close to the picture as I could. Truthfully, I was more proud of making Clarke’s day than my artwork.

“Let me get some pictures before you start melting,” I professed, sending Clarke out further in the lawn.

She twisted and turned, going from holding her belly to sensually positioning her arms above her head.

In awe, I fell into a daydream as I watched her.

Never in a million years would I have believed the love of my life was a reality star.

Not only had she changed the way I viewed people who weren’t a part of my inner circle, but Clarke confirmed things I had started to doubt about myself.

I did deserve love. I wasn’t put on Earth to carry the trauma of my parents.

“Handsome! Come take a few pictures with me.”

With no hesitation, I programed a timer on my phone and rushed over to Clarke. Naturally, I stepped to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. The sensation of my lips anchored Clarke’s eyelids closed. The gesture was subtle, but for me, it meant I had done my job. She felt safe.