Love, Najae
By Kimani Lauren
Copyright © 2012 by Kimani Lauren
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2012
Kimani Lauren
Memphis, Tennessee
www.KimaniLauren.com
All persons fictitious disclaimer:
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Editing and book cover design by:
Kenya Mack
http://www.ImperialInkPublishing.com
Acknowledgments
Giving honor to God, who is the head of my life. I have to thank You and give You all the glory. Without You, I am nothing. My gift of writing is being given back to You through this story. I hope that the person who needed to read this in order to be moved, will do so in time. This story is for the 15 year-old who wanted it all to end. You said, “No, your work is not done.” Now, here I stand, in awe of Your goodness. Thank you, Lord, for this great gift of writing.
To the two most amazing children I have ever met, Jemaine Almod Trotter, Jr. and Shateek Jewan Nelson. Thank you for being mine. You two shining stars are my greatest blessings and I love both of you incredible children.
To my parents, Denise and Artis Smith: Without you, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you for the time and love you put into being my mom and dad. Mommy, I thank you for all of your blood, sweat, and tears. Every sacrifice you made is more than appreciated.
Matthew my brother and my best friend. You have held me down through everything. Thank you for being all the male influence my children will ever need. I am so blessed to have a sibling who I have almost always gotten along with and who has always been there for me.
Kenya L. Mack, I don’t even know where to begin. I know you told me to stop thanking you, but I refuse. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. You taught me to hate Jennifer even more than I thought I could. The time and effort you put into this were nothing short of amazing. Because of you, my dream is now a reality. You just don’t know what you did when you told me you saw greatness in me. Because of your writing, we have formed a friendship. There are not many people in this world―women especially―who I consider my friends. You have proved yourself to be even more than that to me in the time I have known you. Kamiya has one of the most incredible women in the world as a mother.
There are too many for me to call by name, but please know that every writer and everyone I have met via social networking are an inspiration to me. To Mildred D. Taylor: You are the reason I picked up a pen and wrote “Chapter One” on a piece of paper. To Kisha Green and the Writer’s Vibe family: Thank you for my first opportunity to share my gift with the world. Keith Kareem Williams and Aaron Bebo, the first time I read your work, I got high off the ways you put your words together. I aspire to be as great as the two of you. Brandie Randolph of Editing Couture, thank you for every kind word you have every spoken to me, especially about my writing. I look forward to working with you on many more projects to come. Skylin Hagins, Jr., there is no one in this world like you. Thank you for my first radio interview and for being the blueprint behind what this social networking thing is all about.
There were so many people who believed in this story when it was just a note on Facebook. I appreciate all the feedback―be it positive, negative, or the comment that it was “too good for me to have written it”. My favorites were the inboxes on Facebook and the e-mails to my personal account demanding more. You’ll never know how much those meant to me. They gave me the push to keep going. To Mila and Rickey: Thank you for your feedback on the ending.
There were so many people who had a hand in shaping me into the writer I am today. I especially want to thank Mrs. Adina Walker, Mrs. Maureen Dechick, Mr. Anthony Paratore, Mrs. Viola Paris, and Rev. Diane Oliver (Rest in heaven, sweet angel) for always pushing me to do my best. To hear that some of you still have positive things to say about my work until this day, does something indescribable to me.
To Pastor Andre and First Lady Shirelle Dowdell and the whole entire Greater New Testament Missionary Baptist Church (you all know there are way too many of you to name), I love each and every one of you. The best extended family in the world is found on 1121 South Salina Street in Syracuse, N.Y.
And finally, to the love of my life, Richard (I’m not gonna put your whole government on blast) thank you for putting up with my nonsense. I love you, Papi.
To anyone who was not called out by name, please charge it to my head and not my heart. I promise this is not the last book that I am writing. If I didn’t mention you in this one I promise I’ll mention you in the next one or one of the next ones after that.
Thank you for sharing this with me. Thank you for embracing me. Thank you for making my dreams come true.
She hates me. She hates me even more. She hates me. She hates me even more. She despises me.
This little ditty runs through my head every weekend as I ride to my father’s house. Every morning, for all 15 years of my life, I wake up hoping that she’ll magically accept the fact that I’m here. Call me optimistic. Every Saturday morning, I pass by that gaze that cuts me like a knife as I walk through the door. My heart bleeds. I want her to understand that it’s not my fault that I’m here. It is her fault that my father’s relationship with her is so damaged. He wants to do the right thing by loving her and loving me too, but it’s easier to love his wife than it is to love his mistake.
I
do my best to avoid all conflict by trying to stay out of their way.
If it were up to me, it would be just me and my iPod from Saturday
morning until Sunday evening. But my father insists on trying to
force us together when we just don’t fit. He dreams of my
step-mother and I being best friends; of us taking family portraits
together and looking genuinely happy; of my mother dropping the child
support order and trusting him to do what he’s supposed to do
without having a judge tell him to. He also dreams of seeing me on
more than Saturdays and Sundays.
I
wish I could say that I love, adore, and cherish my father, but
something inside of me—perhaps the feelings that my mother refuses
to verbalize regarding this situation in hopes of doing what’s in
my best interest—makes me feel bitter toward him. I shut him out of
my world. Anything that he knows about me is because he pried into my
world. I don’t hate him, but I have a hard time loving someone who
could make my life a lot easier by confronting the problem that is
damaging his family.
My
mother glances in my direction. She takes note of the scowl on my
face. As usual, she ignores my unhappiness. Instead she says, “Najae,
please try to be nice to your father this weekend. He’s trying so
hard to show you how much he loves you.”
I
lift my Fendi shades above my eyes and look at my mother in
disbelief. The shades are something she bought just to show my
step-mother that she can afford nice things without my father’s
help. I appreciate what she’s doing but, at the same time, I hate
it. For years she’s gone from vengeful to putting up a façade that
everything is fine between us and them. She’s never said a negative
word about my father out loud. No one can hold all of that resentment
in. I’ve read her journal. She keeps it on the desktop computer
that we share—not on her laptop. I think she was going to sell it
to some film producer, but she had some big, dramatic turning point
in her life where she decided that raping my father for child support
and cutting his visitation down to her terms was enough. Reading
those journal entries lets me know how she’s really feeling,
though.
I’m over Lorenzo. I swear that I am. But I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that he chose to marry a woman who hated his baby before she was even born.
Nothing hurts more than sending my child to spend two days of her life every week with a woman who hates her existence. I’m conflicted. I know that I don’t have to like her ever, but I feel that she should like my child. I know that she hates Najae. I just hope that I’m doing the right thing by letting Lorenzo be a part of her life. Should I question the fact that he won’t keep his woman’s hate in line when it comes to my daughter? I’ve wondered for years if I’m doing the right thing for my baby.
“Najae, don’t give me that look,” Ma admonishes me, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, but taking her eyes off of the road to give me a glare to let me know that she was serious. “Now you’re going to respect me and you’re going to respect your father as well. And Jennifer.”
“Ma, Jennifer hates me. How can I respect someone who hates me?” I ask as I slump back in the seat.
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just jealous of the position that you hold in your father’s life,” Ma tries to smooth it over.
I sigh. “Then why did she take me to have a DNA test?”
Ma’s eyes grow wide. I can’t quite read what’s going through her mind. I think she leaves Earth for a moment. Her hands tremble, and she loses control of the car. Our car swerves into the next lane and nearly crashes into an SUV. They lay on their horn so long and loud it hurts my ears. My heart races. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Instead I grip the middle console and hope that she can pull it together before we get hurt or die. She regains control and drives to the shoulder. “What do you mean, she took you to have a DNA test?”
“Ma, don’t act like you don’t know.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I’m trying hard not to disrespect her. She’s done so much for my benefit. She truly loves me. “You leave your journal open on the computer, Ma. Do you think that I don’t read? I know that Jennifer hates me. I figured that out on my own. But she’s taken me for a DNA test three times in my life. I guess somehow she figures that paternity changes if you pray hard enough for it.”
“Baby, out of all of the things that I know, I promise you I never knew that she was taking you to have paternity tests. What else has she done?” When I don’t answer fast enough, my mother reaches out, grabs me, and shakes me until I’m too scared not to respond. “Najae, what else has she done?”
“Well, last week she put me on the Nuva Ring. She bought me an iPad so that I wouldn’t tell you. She said that she wanted to make sure that I didn’t give my father a grandchild before she could have his child.”
Ma looks at me like she’s trying to understand what I’m saying and believe what I’m saying is what I’m actually saying.
My body begins to quake from the painful memory of Jennifer, her sister Veronica, and her personal assistant Mariah holding me down on a table in Jennifer’s sewing room. They stripped me of my pants and underwear. Mariah put her weight on my arms and held them to the table. With both of her hands, she covered my mouth so that my father wouldn’t hear me scream. Veronica held both of my legs while Jennifer stepped between them and shoved the Nuva Ring as deep inside of me as her fingers would allow. During the procedure, she taunted me about how wide my hips were spreading and how much my breasts were growing. She told me I was carrying all the signs of having sex and there was no way I was going to get pregnant before my father gave her the baby they’d been working on for all of those years.
Suddenly, she whips the car into traffic so fast that my head feels like it’s glued to the seat. She speeds the car through traffic. After all the weeks of me crying and complaining, saying that I don’t want to go there, refusing to go there, she finally listens. The birth control is her breaking point. We make it to my father’s house faster than we ever have. Instead of pulling up to the curb and waiting for me to get out the way she normally does, she parks in my father’s driveway. I get out. Ma looks like she’s trying to calm herself down before getting out of the car. The last thing she wants to do is make an ass out of herself for my father’s wife.
My father is standing at the door holding it wide open for me. He’s so happy to see me. His firstborn; his one and only child. The one he’s allowed his wife to make feel like crap for the past fifteen years.
“Najae!” he greets me, his voice and face so cheery. His expression changes when he sees Ma trailing behind me. She’s still trying to get herself together. I believe that she could knock down this whole house in one blow.
Jennifer appears in the doorway beside my father. She has a strange look on her face. It’s stuck between trying to be phony toward me and trying to hide disgust for my mother’s presence.
“Cherisse. How are you?” my father’s voice is dry as he addresses my mother.
“I need to talk to you and Jennifer. NOW.”
As always Jennifer speaks for my father. I can’t believe that there’s no guilt on her face. “Sure. Come in. Hey, Najae,” she sings to me, rubbing my shoulder as I walk by her. I still feel her cut her eyes at me. “Ugly little rag doll,” she snaps under her breath.” Ma says nothing about that, but I know that she saw and heard what happened.
“Najae, don’t be rude. Speak to your step-mother.” Ma’s voice sounds like she’s forcing herself to speak in a regular tone.
“Hi,” I say to Jennifer before continuing through the house.
“I’ll be up to say goodbye to you in just a minute,” Ma tells me.
“Okay,” I reply as I go upstairs to put my things away for the weekend.
“You won’t be going upstairs in my house,” I hear Jennifer say, and I stop on the stairs. I know it’s on.
“You know what, Najae? On second thought, come back down the stairs. You may not be staying this weekend.”
As I do as my mother says I see Jennifer rejoicing silently in the fact that she may not have me around for the weekend.
“Cherisse, what’s going on? What do you mean my daughter can’t stay with me this weekend? This is the only time that I get to spend with her, you know?” My father sounds like he is trying to be strong. I’ll give the man credit; no matter how the time is spent he makes sure he gets his time with me. This is just one of many reasons why I can’t hate him.
“Lorenzo, were you aware that your wife took our daughter and put her on birth control – or rather she and her two minions forced a contraceptive device inside of her vagina?”
My father’s face drops. At first his expression says, “Not more drama,” and then it says, “Why do I keep putting up with this?” He drops his head, rubs his temples, runs his palm down his face, heaves a large sigh, and then finally looks at Jennifer. “You did what?”
“Lorenzo, I-” she stammers.
Ma, being the person that she’s shaped herself into being, sees that the outcome of this is going to be bad, and tries to diffuse the situation. “Look, why don’t we just go out on the veranda and discuss this? Clearly there are some issues that we all need to get out in the open, and Najae doesn’t need to be on the receiving end of the aftermath any longer.”
The scene that is set lets us know that we’ve interrupted their cozy little breakfast for two. My father wastes no time preparing extra plates for Ma and me. Ma doesn’t want to eat, but she accepts the plate just to be cordial. Jennifer doesn’t want to eat either.
“Lorenzo, I know that you don’t like me, but why does our child have to suffer as a result?” Ma begins.
“How exactly does a child suffer from receiving 30 times over what it takes to support a child in child support?” Jennifer asks. “It’s not like you’re doing anything with it. The child looks like she comes from rags. You could at least get something done to her hair, Cherisse.” Jennifer rolls her eyes at my tight coils.
“How exactly is making a man support his child wrong?” Ma returns, ignoring the remarks about my hair. Whenever I tell my mother about Jennifer picking on me she doesn’t believe me. Now, even as a firsthand witness to the nasty comments, Ma won’t say anything.
“Because you’re only doing it out of spite, Cherisse. Lorenzo was giving you money-”
“After you got your hair done, a new pair of boots, a new this, and a new that,” Ma cuts her off.
“Cherisse, why don’t we state what the problem really is?” A smug look comes across her face as she pours orange juice into a champagne glass.
“I think the problem is that you put our daughter on birth control without consulting me or her mother.”
Surprised, the three of us turn to my father. This is the first time he’s ever spoken against his wife. Jennifer’s word has always been golden in this house.
“Najae, baby, I know that we haven’t had the best relationship. I’ve compromised too many things as your father. All of that is going to stop now. You come with me. We’re going to get our relationship on the right track starting today. I want you to go upstairs, and get your things, and come with me. Cherisse, I apologize. You can let yourself out, and I will give you a call later on to discuss this. Just please don’t strip me of my time with Najae. Too much of it has been spent the wrong way as it is.”
Ma looks at me as if she wants to say no, but I know that seeing my father and me together does something to her deep inside. “Fine. I’ll be waiting on your call, Lorenzo.” She walks up to me and gives me a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby.”
“Okay, Ma.”
Jennifer hops up as my mother walks away. She’s fuming from sitting through my mother and father interacting with each other. This is the first time they’ve spoken outside of a courtroom. Her long ponytail seems to stand on top of her head. “I’ll just get my purse and we can be on our way.” She mumbles things that I know are about me under her breath.
With a scowl on his face my father growls, “No, Jennifer, you can be on your way. Getting your purse is a good start. Pack a few suitcases while you’re at it. It’s going to be awhile before I let you sleep under the same roof as me.” Not once does he look up from the table. I think that making eye contact with Jennifer would weaken him.
Inside I am singing, dancing, and turning cartwheels. I glance at my mother. Instead of turning around and hugging and praising my father the way I expect her to, she just looks relieved. Her strut has more pep to it as she walks away.
“I’m going to give you a half-hour to pack up some things. I’ll call Veronica or Mariah to come get you.” My father touches my shoulder ever so gently. “Come on, Najae. Let’s get ready for our weekend.”
Pain, defeat, agony, terror, distress, and panic―the look on Jennifer’s face is priceless. Even though I don’t have a good feeling about this weekend, I can’t help but hope this is the turning point my relationship with my father needs. There’s nothing I want more than for him to love me.
Cherisse
I was never Lorenzo’s sidechick, groupie, jump off, or mistress. I try to tell myself this all the time, but I don’t even believe myself. I know that man was never mine. His heart and mind were always elsewhere. The first time we made love I swear I heard him call someone else’s name, but I didn’t care. A man as fine as Lorenzo wanted to date me. He said he was turned on by my mind and my style. I never wore makeup. He told me that meant I was confident in my own skin, and he loved that about me. I should have known that his caramel skin, wavy hair, and body made of 98% muscle would never be all mine. But he was gorgeous, and I was ready to have him for as long as he would stay.
I met Lorenzo while he was sitting in a coffee shop, crying over one of her magazine covers. He told me that she designed the dress that the cover model was wearing, and that she died. I of course felt sympathy for him. I never wanted to be his woman. We were friends for a very long time as I helped him grieve. In fact, at least two years passed before I began to develop feelings for him. Three years passed before we became a couple. And then on that fourth year, we were engaged, and I got pregnant. Four years and three months later, the love he’d told me was “dead” all of these years came to the fantasy island we saved up to get married on and swept him away just as quickly as he came.
I hated the both of them for the way they left me- pregnant, alone, and on an island. I had to return to the United States alone, and I had my baby alone. My Catholic parents would have nothing to do with me and my baby out of wedlock. Lorenzo was untraceable. Jennifer made sure of that. She made a point to harass me every chance she got. She came to my house, called my job, and even waited for me in the parking lot so that she could taunt me like some bully. I think she was trying to stress me to the point of having a miscarriage, but it didn’t work. Najae was born, and I took care of her as best I could. My mental state was off, though. I was depressed without Lorenzo. Depression can lead you to do some crazy things. Jennifer witnessed that first hand and never let me live that down.
Fifteen years later I have long moved past that, but Jennifer can’t. Najae is a flaw in her perfect plan of total domination over Lorenzo’s life. She has been able to make him give up his career in biochemistry to model underwear. She has been able to make him buy three homes―two in the United States and one in Paris She has even been able to convince him that the children’s hospital they purchased makes up for him not being the father his daughter needs. The only thing she has not been able to do is shake was Najae out of his life. Every five years, Jennifer takes her to have a DNA test. In every national interview or article that she does she always makes sure to mention that they don’t have any children. She also makes sure Lorenzo doesn’t mention Najae in public. He has no problem being Lorezo Danzier, the sexy underwear model with no kids.
Jennifer
“Quick! I need a cocktail.” I collapse into the wicker chair and lay my sun hat on the glass table. The waitress knows exactly what I need and rushes to get it. She’d better; if she wants to keep her job. My husband and I own this restaurant. We can own her family in a matter of minutes.
“Jennifer, what’s wrong with you? You never drink before noon.” Veronica doesn’t really care what was wrong with me. She just wanted to make sure she would be able to keep the margarita pitcher to herself. I would never be caught drinking something as cheap as margaritas. I only sip Mimosas made of the finest champagne; although, I’m probably going to down them in rapid succession today.
“Cherisse brought her tacky ass in my house this morning,” I exhale.
“That bush baby was inside of your house?” Veronica repeats. She shudders visibly as she takes a sip of her drink.
“And
parked that raggedy-ass 2008 Jag in my driveway. It’s 2009. How
dare she be claiming to be someone’s baby mama and be seen driving
that bucket? And she wants somebody to acknowledge Najae? Please.
Najae isn’t even classy enough to take on the life that being a
part of our family would mean for her.” I stop to take a drink
before continuing my rant. “All I know is that if Najae wants to
spend another weekend in my home, then she and her mother are going
to have to sign that contract. There’s no reason why Lorenzo should
just be throwing money at her when she’s old enough to earn it.”
“That’s
right. You and I were working long
before our teenage years. That’s why we’re so successful now. And
Najae is just going to grow up to be as useless, talentless, and
ambitionless as her mother. You know, Cherisse could’ve almost been
pretty, but she messed that up focusing on being a biochemist. Isn’t
that something that ugly people resort to?” Veronica pours herself
another margarita.
“Well,
it’s not like Cherisse is cute. I mean, look at how short she is.
And that hair. Ugh!
I can’t wait for natural to go out of style so she can stop with
the afros and twists. I don’t know what Lorenzo ever saw in her. I
can truly understand why he lied to her and told her that I was dead.
He knew that being with her was a fail after being with me.” I sip
my Mimosa and stare off into space. “But I must give her credit.
She does try with her little designer wear. The Independent Woman fad
looks good on her, but I think that it’s high time she grabbed
herself a sponsor. Stop living the lie that she can do bad all by
herself.”
“But,
wait. As bad as she looks, is that really even a lie?” Mariah
redeems herself with that joke.
Our
waitress comes, and promptly takes our orders, even though she knows
already exactly what I want. It’s her job to know what the owner of
this restaurant―me―likes
and to be quick about getting it. Today, though, I order extra food.
Comfort food. Because I know that I am in trouble. Bashing Lorenzo’s
baby’s mama is only to make me feel better. Inside I know the
truth; I may have the ring and the last name, but Cherisse has the
one thing that I can’t seem to produce―his child. I’ve had
three inexplicable miscarriages. Well, truthfully, I’ve only had
two. The second one was an abortion. I was pregnant by our estate
lawyer. I thought about keeping the baby, but he wanted us to be a
family. He wanted me to leave Lorenzo and everything that we’ve
built behind and start over with him. It wouldn’t have been a bad
idea, except I know that if I leave Lorenzo he’s going to be a
father to Najae and expose her to the public. How can my empire
survive if my clientele knows that I’ve been forcing my husband to
keep his illegitimate child a secret for all these years?
I
love Lorenzo. I’ve been in love with him since the first time I
laid eyes on him in the ninth grade. He was so studious sitting in
Earth Science class. He was so wrapped up in his studies, not paying
a drop of attention to me. That soon stopped. I became his world. His
love of science went to the back. He gave up everything
for me. Instead of competing in national science competitions, he was
at my fashion shows. Instead of marrying the woman who loved him from
the bottom up, he married the one who left him. Instead of being the
grade A father he could be to his daughter if he tried, he’s
spending his life making it up to me that he almost married another
woman. Who cares that I left? I was coming back for him eventually. I
just had to take care of myself first. A model has a very limited
career. The late nights waiting for him to get done studying so that
he could pay me attention were very boring. I don’t wait for anyone
to pay me attention. Lorenzo had to learn that the hard way.
“So,
I’m guessing by the number of Mimosas that you’ve consumed,
Lorenzo didn’t take your birth control news very well,” Mariah
says as she sips on her lemon water. She never drinks when we go out.
I don’t allow her to. She’s always the designated driver, even if
we’re just walking across the street to my boutique.
“Had I been given the opportunity to present it to him the proper way, he would have been more understanding. But that hoodrat came into my house and ruined everything. Who is she to ask questions about what is done during visitation? I noticed the little tramp’s booty was starting to stick out the way her mother’s does, and so I asked her if she was having sex. Of course, the little whore lied and said that she’s a virgin. So I did what I had to do since she didn’t want to tell the truth. I refuse to be a grandmother before I’m a mother. And I need to get pregnant now more than ever. Because my biological clock is ticking and I have a feeling that things between me and Lorenzo just might get rocky after this weekend.”
Lorenzo
I
know that she’s my daughter. The angry vibe that she’s throwing
my way is the same vibe I throw Jennifer every Sunday night after
Najae is gone. Her jealousy causes her to do unnecessary things to my
daughter. I keep tight lips until after Najae leaves on Sunday
nights. Then I confront Jennifer about the slapping, berating, and
chastising she does to Najae. There’s no reason she should be so
evil toward a child. She and her sister taunt Najae. They call her
lazy because she’s being raised off of the child support I pay
Cherisse instead of working. Both Jennifer and her sister were models
by the time they were Najae’s age. Jennifer resents the fact that
Najae is given money rather than working for it. She calls Najae an
evil, gold-digging witch because she has to share my money with her.
My wife has issues, but she is the love of my life. I am able to
overlook her jealousy as long as I can be in Najae’s life. I’d
rather have my wife mistreat her than never be able to see her at
all.
I want so badly to be able to show the world my beautiful daughter, but what will the world think of me? I have so many fans, so many endorsements, and so many charities. I also have the children’s hospital. I have so many children that depend on my money. In a way, they are the penance that I pay for not being the father that I need to be to Najae. They stay in the most lavish of settings and are catered to for the duration of their stay no matter how minor or major their reason for stay is or what health insurance they have―if any. All I have to do is keep the fact that I have a 15 year-old daughter a secret. I can still have my visitation and take care of her. I just can’t let anyone know about her.
Not even my parents know they have a granddaughter. When Cherisse and I found out that we were having a baby we rushed to get married. No one knew that was the reason why. I was so happy. That was the first time that I’d been genuinely happy since Jennifer left my life. I was going to have an unconditional love in my life―someone who would love me because of who I am. I could be whoever I wanted to be and I would be great to her. The problem is, I never got the chance to show Najae how great I am. When I left to be with Jennifer, I gave up my right to be Najae’s father. The three of us agreed that I wouldn’t be present for the pregnancy, birth, or delivery.
It’s time to stop lying. The day that I left Cherisse at the altar I knew that I wasn’t a man. I should have never let Cherisse think that I was in love with her or that I deserved her love. I shouldn’t have let her believe that just because she loved me for who I was and gave me everything I deserved, I was going to be that to her or to our daughter. In my mind, the only woman who should have been carrying my baby was Jennifer. I was starting a new life in hopes of burying the old one.
I told Cherisse that Jennifer was dead because she was dead to me. She left me to live her life. All I needed was four more years and then we could do whatever she wanted―together. But, she couldn’t wait. She had to make her mark on the world the way she made her mark on my heart. I let her go because I knew she was going to be something spectacular. By the time I reached her in Paris, there wasn’t a billboard that didn’t have her name or fashions on it. Everyone from the doctors with their lab coats to the business executives with their three-piece suits were wearing something with Jennifer’s name on it. She was doing her thing and she let me be a part of it. I was content with modeling my way through graduate school.
Six months later, we returned to the United States. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to my child and the fiancée I left at the altar. Cherisse was hesitant to let me see her, but I finally convinced her that she was being petty. Jennifer and I went to her house with balloons, toys, diapers, formula, and everything else we could think of.
I felt the shift in the atmosphere the minute Jennifer saw me holding my daughter. I was in love for only the second time in life. Najae looked just like a brown-skinned version of me. She had a curly afro just like her mother. I was so thankful that Cherisse had brought her into the world and even more thankful that she let me share a part of her life. After what I’d done to her, she didn’t have to. She was a woman about it even though seeing the rock on Jennifer’s finger brought tears to her eyes.
That night, as we lay in bed, Jennifer laid down the law. She told me that I wasn’t to bring that child into her house until she’d seen proof of paternity. I had no problem with that. I knew Cherisse hadn’t been with anyone else. She was too in love with me.
After the paternity test, Cherisse changed. I thought that a woman who had nothing to hide wouldn’t be upset that she was asked to prove that she had nothing to hide. I thought wrong. Cherisse wouldn’t let me come near my child until a judge set guidelines for when and where I could see my own baby. By the time the court proceedings were over I had a bill of fifteen hundred dollars to see my child on the weekends. I was so angry with the fact that Cherisse would use the courts to control me that I decided to let Jennifer take over. For an extra three thousand dollars monthly, Cherisse was to keep Najae’s paternity a secret. She disagreed, so Jennifer and I forged her name on a legally binding document. At the time, I let my anger consume me. Cherisse wasn’t going to be an adult about the situation and neither was I.
Fifteen years later, I can’t believe this is me. I love Najae. I don’t want Najae to hurt. She’s beautiful. The world should know that she’s mine. I should be able to spend more time with her than two days a week. Her mother shouldn’t have to drop her off to make sure that she comes to my house instead of hiding out in her own basement just so that she doesn’t have to deal with my wife. I may have to make the toughest choice of my life. My time with Jennifer may have come to an end. I may have to give up the love of my life in order to be with the love of my life.