Page 39 of Only a Gemini Will Do
Unknown Number:Stay ready. I’m doing what I can out here for you.
My pulse spiked. I didn’t want to have to take on the burden of being worried about Kadeem doing something crazy, but I also knew my twin.If he was gon’ rock, then I was gon’ roll. I set the phone down on the bed, my heart thudding like a bass drum in a Battle of the Bands.
I sat with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and pictured my shawty. Her face was still as clear as ever in my mind. I wondered how big her belly had gotten and how she looked waddling around her small apartment like a penguin. I imagined holding her in my arms as she brought our child into the world. My eyes reopened, and I picked up the burner phone to send one last text.
Me:I’m ready.
Quietly. Patiently. In due time, I’d make it back to her.
Chapter 13
Sawyer
The bassinet sat in the corner of my bedroom, strategically positioned between my dresser and the window where the light trickled in through the curtains. It was compact enough to fit without making it hard for me to make it from one side of the bed to the other. I’d put it together during one of my many sleepless nights. I hadn’t slept a full eight hours straight in weeks. The icing on the cake was the small mobile with stars and the letter K on it for Kareena, which meant pure and innocent. It was the closest girl’s name to Kareem’s that I actually liked, and I wanted her to have a small piece of her father with her, even if she never got to meet him.
I’d been nesting, carving out space—both figuratively and emotionally—for Kareena. I’d moved my nightstand into the living room, pruned my wardrobe, and folded the freshly washed onesies and blankets I’d bought myself into baskets that lived at the top of my closet.Every square foot of my tiny one-bedroom apartment had been reorganized to make room for the only person who knew what my heartbeat sounded like from the inside. Everything I’d done was for her, and I hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet.
My place was far from Pinterest-worthy, but I was somewhat ready. Mentally, though? Not at all. But my due date was two weeks away—which meant motherhood was right around the corner and I had fourteen raggedy ass days to get my shit together.I kept counting down the days as if seeing the X’s on the calendar would magically make me feel more prepared.It didn’t.
I felt like I’d been suspended between two dimensions since Christmas—one where I had Kareem stuck in my head like a song on repeat, and one where I had to face realityandparenthood alone.
Butta curled up beside the bassinet, guarding it with his life. It was as if he was a big dog trapped in a small dog’s body. I sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on my basketball-shaped belly and the other tracing the bassinet as my thoughts drifted.
I hadn’t heard from Kareem. No letters. No calls from prison. Nothing. I missed him every day. He was being held in a Florida prison, where he was initially supposed to be transferred back in July, but I still couldn’t visit or write him. I hated being so close but having to stay so far away.Even more than that, I hated that I still checked the mailbox, thinking maybe he’d sent something. A letter. Another plane ticket. A sliver of hope.Although we couldn’t communicate, deep down, I knew he was thinking about me. About us.
I breathed through the heartache before reaching over to fold another onesie. Soleil was back in North Carolina but checked in on me every hour on the hour—sending funny TikTok videos of pregnant women dancing or sharing mom advice and providing updates on the baby shower she insisted on throwing me. She’d be returning in a few days for it, assuming I didn’t go into labor early. As of my last appointment, my baby girl was in the head-down position and could make her debut at any time. Somuch so that Butta had gone back to following me around the apartment every time I moved.
If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be having a baby shower at all. I’d register online and have all the gifts delivered straight to my apartment, so I wouldn't have to stress about what to wear that made me look cute and not feel like Fiona fromShrek, or how to wear my braids that I’d barely been able to sit through an install for. Unfortunately for me, I was far from mindful, cutesy, or demure in my third trimester. The baby had me feeling borderline mentally ill, bitchy, and a bit demonic. My lower back constantly ached. My feet were swollen like Will Smith’s face inHitch.And my nose had spread halfway across my damn face. Luckily, my job had allowed me to work from home and make all my appointments virtual before transitioning into maternity leave.
The only thing I was excited about was being under the same roof with my girls Kaneesha and Brit again. November felt like a decade ago, and I was sure the group FaceTime calls weren’t doing my case of the uglies or my Santa-like belly any justice. Whatever I showed up to my baby shower looking like, I knew I’d be surrounded by people who would be there to spoil my baby girl with love.
My baby shower rolled around, and I was surprised but thankful to be in better spirits.The clubhouse was decorated in sage green and soft pink, with ivory accents for my ‘Baby in Bloom’ themed shower. The tables were covered in pink satin runners and floral centerpieces with pink honeycomb bases, and there was a balloon arch leaning to the left by the gift table. The playlist was rocking with some of my favorite hits from the likesof Beyoncé, H.E.R., and my old-school faves, Frankie Beverly and Maze, and Chaka Khan.
There were mason jar-shaped drink dispensers filled with pink lemonade and regular lemonade with lemon slices in them, and platters of all my favorite comfort foods, catered by my coworker’s cousin—homemade baked mac and cheese, jerk chicken wings, smoked collard greens, and banana pudding with the Chessman cookies.
Soleil had gone all out without me having to lift a finger. I found myself trying not to cry before the event even started. Just as my eyes began to get watery, Neesh and Brit burst through the door. Neesh’s arms were full of gift bags, and Brit was right behind her, dragging a large box.
“Have no fear, the god-mommies of the year are here!” Neesh announced in all her dramatic flair. “I’ve got a box of diapers, some pacifiers, the best baby bottles on the market, and a flower tub. Oh, and a onesie that says, ‘My Auntie is Finer Than Yours.’ Thank me later.”
“And I’ve got a sound machine, and one of those vibrating baby swings that cost me more than my rent, but my goddaughter deserves royalty, so royalty she shall have,” Brit added.
I grinned from ear to ear as I waddled over to hug them. “Thank y’all so much. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Reunited and it feels so good,” Brit sang, giving her best rendition of Peaches and Herb’s classic.
“You know we had to show out for you. You’re the first one in the group to get preggers. We’re living vicariously through you right now,” Neesh insisted.
Brit nodded. “Besides, we know one day you’ll return the favor.”
“Just y’all don’t fuck around and get pregnant at the same time,” I responded.
“So, y’all hos are trying to upstage me on the gift giving, huh?” Soleil called out to them from across the room. “It’s war, bitches!”
Before either of them could respond, my mom walked in carrying a tray of mini sweet potato pies—courtesy of my grandmother’s recipe. To me, seeing her standing there with those pies was better than any baby gift.
“Y’all better stop all that cussing around my grandbaby. I don’t care if she’s still baking—she’s got ears and she’s listening to all y’all foolishness.”
Neesh nodded at my mother. “Yes, ma’am. We promise to keep things PG. I can’t say the same for that daughter of yours over there, though,” she commented through a giggle.