Page 28 of Own It

I already knew who it was since there was only one person who had this specific number, so I retrieved the phone from my pocket with my eyes still shut and put it to my ear.

“Yeah,” I answered somewhat groggily. I’d called Dr. Conrad, let it ring once and hung up, as I’d told him I’d do so he would know where to call for this night only.

“Yes, um, the second surgery is finished. When should I be expecting my child?” Dr. Conrad got right down to business.

“When Talid is out of the woods completely.” I got up from the couch and went to check on Daylin who had fallen asleep with her free hand between the pages of the James Baldwin book.

Dr. Conrad chuckled mirthlessly before sputtering a little bit, clearly trying to pull his thoughts together.

“Look, I have removed the tumors, but it’s possible they could grow back. It’s also possible they won’t, but it takes a while to know that,” he explained.

“Well however long it takes for you to be sure Talid is cancer free and out of the woods like I fucking said, is how long I will have Daylin, Doc.”

It was quiet as I waited for Dr. Conrad’s response, which took a while.

Exhaling heavily, he finally asked, “What if he dies? Talid’s cancer is aggressive, and I’m not God.”

“Then so does she. Put it this way, my nigga; whatever happens to Talid will happen to Daylin. Hopefully that’s some incentive for yo’ ass.” I hung up.

My chest felt heavy as I broke down the flip phone to pieces. I wasn’t a fool. I knew doctors weren’t gods, but they were some semblance of a middleman between regular folk and God. So if anyone could keep Talid from joining our mothers, it was Dr. Conrad.

SEVEN

daylin

DAYS LATER . . .

I was restless, needing to walk around or pace or anything other than sit on this bed. While it was comfortable, I still felt terrible. I wished I hadn’t tried to escape, because then I wouldn’t be cuffed to this bed nor would my ankle be so sensitive and weak.

Now I had to notify Rakim anytime I needed to pee or do other things, and even worse, the negro stayed in the bedroom the whole time. So, he knew every time I was taking a shit, which for some reason unnerved me.

No woman wanted a fine nigga knowing when they took a shit unless they’d bagged said nigga already. And even then, as fine as Rakim was, I would prefer he think I was a non-shitting little princess.

As if I’d talked him up, Rakim entered the bedroom, and I felt relief I couldn’t quite explain.

“Can I ask a question?” I spoke aloud as he busied himself with something behind the desk.

“Yeah.” Like usual, he gave me no eye contact.

I began wondering if he was this reserved while having intercourse. The visual made me smirk subtly.

“My boyfriend . . .”

“What about the nigga?” Rakim inquired harshly, and I could’ve sworn I saw his lip curl and heard him scoff in the process, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Did you do something to him? Has he asked about me? I mean, something had to be told to him. He wouldn’t just know what happened to me and go on about his life.”

“He’s taken care of,” Rakim threw out, but once his eyes locked with my worried ones, he added, “He alive, if that’s what you wanna know.”

“Oh, okay.” I exhaled out of ease. “I’d like to take a shower again. I’ve been sweating a lot in this hot ass room, so can you un-cuff me? Thanks.”

I turned to look off but felt him staring at me, so I could assume it was because of how I was talking to him.

Without a word, he moseyed over and fetched the key to the handcuffs from his pocket to unlock it.

“I hope you don’t plan on taking another shower tonight. This counts as ya second and last,” he told me, and I felt like he only did to exert his authority since I had, only moments ago, bossed his ass around.

“I could’ve hit you in the face with something when you unlocked this. You should step back next time,” I replied.