Myeyeballshaven’tstoppedsweating. Sadé was born three eighteen P.M., and now it’s three in the morning. Baby girl has been here twelve hours and I ain’t stopped crying yet. That’s part of the reason I ain’t called nobody yet. I can’t be slipping like this.
I changed her first diaper, fed her a bottle, bathed her, and now she’s sleep in my arms. She’s the most beautiful thing on this earth, and she’s named after me.
I hear a sigh and shift my gaze to the hospital bed. Mace is still asleep though, knocked out from her emergency surgery.
I knew she had PCOS, but I didn’t know how serious a ruptured cyst could be. Two of them ruptured when she went into labor, and the stress of that exacerbated them. She barely made it to the hospital in time to remove them, but thankfully, her ovaries are fine, and they went ahead and removed all of her cysts, so she’s out for the count.
My warrior woman. She needs a blue rose ASAP.
She told me Sadé’s name like she didn’t think she’d make it. And shit, with all that blood, I don’t blame her. But she’s here, will make a full recovery, and will be the best mom to her daughter.
Our daughter.
And if she can go through a rebirth, I can too. I owe it to both of them to try. Shit, after I blew chunks, I zoned in and helped her deliver. I’m starting to feel like we can do anything.
I focus back on my junior and try to blink away these dumb ass tears. “You got a nigga soft already, Bean. You came into this world dramatic as fuck, just like yo mama. But I wouldn’t trade the experience of delivering you earthside for anything, blood and all,” I whisper.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and when I look up, I see YT peek in. She says something to whoever’s behind her before coming in and closing the door behind her.
A gold cuban link choker covers her scars, but other than that she’s dressed down again, in baggy sweats that are lowkey sagging and a hella cropped shirt.
“Go wash your hands,” I whisper.
She does it immediately, before coming back with her hands out. I put Sadé in her arms. “Her name is Sadé Reese Washington.”
Her head snaps up when I say the last name, before her lips begin to spread in a smile.
“Macy will wake up in a few hours. Tell her that her cysts ruptured, and they got all of them out. Tell her the birth certificate is taken care of, and that wire to her account is to make sure she’s straight for as long as she needs so she can take her time going back to work.”
YT kisses her teeth. “I thought–”
“Chill… I found my reason, bro.” I glance back at Mace, before focusing back on a new grinning YT. “Two reasons. When I call, be ready to light some shit up, and not a second before.”
I go to grab the birth certificate off the table and squeeze YT’s shoulder as I pass her. When I open the door, YP and YC are posted up on the wall, talking low to each other.
“And YT?”
She turns to me.
“Keep this between us.”
Shad
Ninety-one days later…
Youknowhowmuchthinking you get done if that’s all you’re permitted to do? I thought. A lot. Especially for the first forty-five days of this program at Limitless Rehabilitation and Recovery Center. No computer, no phone, no television, shit, not even a gym. Just four walls, group therapy, and my brain.
Oh, and taking my antidepressant.
I ain’t wanna take nothing. Besides the fact that taking it meant something was foreal wrong with me, and made my condition tangible, I didn't want it to block my creative flow, or my dick. Hey, I read the side effects. Lil Shaddy still needs to report for duty.
But I’d be lying if I said my lil blue pill didn’t lift the heavy weight off my shoulders. And judging by the five comp books filled with lyrics, and my palm damn near growing hair, nothing has been blocked.
Day forty-six I was approved for a computer. I mean, I still had shit to do. And being clear-headed, and shedding two and a half decades of big feelings every day in group and individual therapy meant my mind was clear enough to keep an eye on shit back home. Just because I was taking a sabbatical didn’t mean the world stopped. I had to keep an eye on my family, make sure my shorty and lil shorty were straight. Make sure Sincere not tryna pop up and take out my bro or anyone else. Dig up as much info as I can.
And you know, my usual hobby of spying on niggas.
Sometimes it was the homies. Most of the time it was Mace. Sometimes it was whoever I felt like she knew based off her social media.
