5. Zurmani
Several Days Later
"Wait, this man just walked up and interrupted your conversation out of the blue?" Evie asks, laughing.
"Why were you at Shadow Stew Memorial? Is everything okay?" Jamaica probes.
"Stay focused, Jamaica. Yes, he did, Evie. It's crazy that I'm still mad about it days later. The man was a damn doctor and fine as frogs' hair. Despite wanting to date anyone, I might have reconsidered depending on how the conversation went."
Dropping my head on my desk, I jump when it hits harder than I anticipated, and pain radiates across my forehead. I had planned on spending several hours in the NICU after taking the afternoon off from work. My growling stomach led me to the cafeteria instead to provide sustenance to my empty belly. Dr. Maurice Slaughter and I had only exchanged pleasantries before Jawaan's aggy ass decided to forestall our conversation. At first, I thought Jawaan was going to say sike or something, but he kept up the charade, even looking butt hurt as if he'd really caught his wife with another man. I'm not sure which part of his face I wanted to rearrange more the longer he talked, but my mood went to the garbage disposal when Dr. Slaughter damn near ran from the table. Livid was an understatement for how I was when only Jawaan stood at my table.
"Stay focused, my ass. Are you all right, Zurmani?" Jamaica asks, cutting into my thoughts.
"Yes. I'm fine." My attitude is on ten because I can't deny how my pearl reacted to Jawaan's interruption.
The hairs on my arms stood up seconds before he made his presence known, and the seat of my panties became moist upon hearing Jawaan's voice. That's the real reason I'm so irritated and talking about the incident with Evie and Jamaica. Neither knows about my volunteering at the hospital, which is another thing I'm not sharing for fear of having to mention the miscarriage. I won't tell them about either thing for now, but I need their female perspective on handling or dealing with Jawaan. I should be recording invoices and adding supporting documentation for my department's accounts receivables. Yet, Jawaan has been occupying my mind, and I need to get him out of my head.
"I'm glad to hear that, but back to this man. How does he look? Can he replace the sexy doctor and become a candidate to eliminate your single status?" Evie asks.
An image of Jawaan pops into my mind, causing warmth to spread through my body and I bite my bottom lip while Jawaan's light brown eyes twinkle with merriment. The casual attire he'd shown up to the hospital and the woodsy aroma from the cologne he wore gave me hood dude with swag vibes. I'm used to dating men in business suits and nine-to-five types, so men like Jawaan are anomalies to me.
Maybe that's the problem. You've been spending too much time with those suits and tie-wearing brothas and might need to consider what lies behind the drawstring of a man dressed in gray sweats wearing socks with slides.
"Zurmani," Evie calls my name, causing me to lift my head from the desk while opening my eyes.
"He looks like a man who can break my heart worse than Aldis ever did," I lowly admit.
"Ooh. That's saying a lot without saying much, girl," Jamaica adds, rejoining the conversation after several minutes of silence from her end of the line.
"Picture a man with dreads that look soft like butter, light brown eyes that have the potential to glow in the dark, smooth brown skin the shade of cinnamon, and a swag that causes you to wonder how heavy his dick is," I recite sighing.
"Ooh. I'm putting my vote in for this hood nigga with a reckless mouth and childish antics," Evie cheers, laughing.
"Hm. I'm going to reserve my opinion and vote until I have a chance to feel him out in person," Jamaica counters.
Rolling my eyes, I move my mouse, bringing my computer back to life to resume my tasks while this conversation takes an unexpected turn.
"That's gonna be hard since I'm going to avoid his ass like he has COVID and pneumonia. I have no time for the problems he could bring to my life. Hell, I'm still dodging Aldis. I ain't got time to consider anything but what I'm having for dinner on a daily basis. Men are in time out with me right now," I insist.
"What happened to wanting to date and all that jazz you were talking about the last time we talked?" Jamaica brings up.
"That's cute. Let me ask you this. What's the likelihood that you'll run into this man again?" Evie asks.
My heart rate increases because neither Jawaan nor I have set hours to volunteer, yet it's not uncommon for us to run into each other at any given time.
"Very," I whisper, answering Evie without answering Jamaica because I didn't want to face the reality of her words.
Mhm. You're attracted to Jawaan and don't want to admit it.
"Mhm. Then let me know if thug-a-boo lets you make it a week, and then we'll reconvene," Evie says.
"Right. It seems like he's a man without the ability to rationalize or care about your protests. Like Evie said, we'll discuss this again in a week," Jamaica agrees.
"I hate you bitches. Where is the confidence in me?"
Pausing my fingers, I stare at the numbers while waiting for one of my friends to change her stance about my avoiding engaging with Jawaan. Honestly, I don't have much confidence in myself, especially since I'll be returning to the hospital to spend some time in the NICU when I get off work.
God, if you love me like you say, can you please keep that man away from the hospital today?
Later That Day
"Oh, you're back," the nurse I saw the day I came to the hospital initially says, smiling while adjusting the monitor above the incubator.
"Yes. How's he doing?" My eyes are on the small person who has me ignoring every other baby in the room to see about and give my attention solely to him.
The tube coming from his nose has my chest tightening despite the comfort I feel while observing the rise and fall of his chest. The diaper covering his private parts looks too big for his tiny frame, causing a slight smile to form on my lips. Just like the first time I saw him, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be resting peacefully.
"I'm sure he'll be better if you're able to provide him some kangaroo time. His mother has been too sick to see him and do it herself. So, he could benefit from having someone stand in the gap for her," the nurse informs me.
"That's why I'm here. Let me wash my hands and get situated in this rocking chair. Can you help me position him in the best way possible for his comfort?" I ask, pointing to the lounger adjacent to the baby's crib.
"I sure will."
Nodding, I walk to the nearby sink and clean my hands while ignoring the stampede in my chest at the thought of holding such a tiny baby. Hearing that his mother is sick and can't come to love on him makes me want to jump in more than ever. After silently reciting the birthday song twice, I turn off the water and grab paper towels before returning to the awaiting chair. The nurse is smiling and waits for me to confirm my readiness before she moves to remove the baby from the bed. My teeth clench my bottom lip when the nurse slowly moves toward me.
"All right. Skin-to-skin care is best when placing the baby on your chest. Unbutton your blouse, and I'll gently lay him on you. Once he's in position and you're comfortable, I'll grab a blanket so you don't have to worry about being exposed to anyone even though no one else is currently here," the nurse says, causing me to nod and do as instructed.
Oh God. Oh God. Please don't let me hurt this baby.
The wires attached to his little hand have me antsy despite seeing how seamless it is for the nurse to handle him. My fingers shake while I unbutton the top three buttons on my blouse before nodding to let the nurse know I'm ready. She moves slowly and gently lays the baby on my bare chest before adjusting the blanket. She lifts him out of the crib that covers his tiny frame. My heart jumps at the unfamiliar yet soothing feeling coursing through me from feeling the baby's heart beating against my chest.
"Okay, we like babies to receive kangaroo care for at least an hour, but if it becomes too much, let me know. I'm going to grab a blanket for you, and I'll be back," the nurse says before walking off without waiting for my response.
My lips tremble, forcing me to close my eyes to prevent me from releasing the tears fighting to escape. The overwhelming nostalgia flowing through me at this moment has me out of sorts. I feel like I'm having the best out-of-body experience I never knew I could benefit from. My arm unconsciously rubs up and down the tiny back in my arms, making me take liberty with this child no one asked me to.
Father, in the name of Jesus, first... I want to say thank you. Thank you for this baby's life. Thank you for allowing him to see this day. Thank you for allowing him to survive despite whatever obstacles he faces. Right now, I ask that you touch his little body. Send your healing virtue to not only him but to his mother. God, you know their ailments, so I ask that you heal their bodies. Thank you in advance for doing what only you can do. You are the chief physician and I place this baby and his mother at your feet. Finally, I want to thank you for allowing me to be in the position to stand in proxy for his mother during her absence. I don't take this opportunity lightly or for granted. In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen.
"Damn, I ain't ever seen a sexier sight than this one right here," a familiar deep masculine timbre comments, instantly causing my eyes to open to see Jawaan with his phone lifted in my direction.
Now, God, is this the sign confirming that you don't love me? I thought we had an understanding.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
The statement enters my mind before I can form anything else, leaving me momentarily speechless because God doesn't play fair.
Twenty Minutes Later
Jawaan and I have switched places, and my eyes seem stuck on the image before me. The minute I saw Jawaan taking off his shirt, my eyes and feet froze, making it easy for Jawaan to get me to keep him company. My 'yes' to his asking came faster than it took him to slip the shirt over his head. My hands have been twitching with the urge to run my fingers through Jawaan's dreads since watching his man bun shift from the shirt touching his head.
Lord, why am I feeling like this after all the hell I went through with my ex? I don't understand my attraction to this man, especially on the heels of so much pain from my loss.
For I know the thoughts I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, not evil, to give you an expected end.
What does that mean, God?
In this moment, you need to understand that I will give you beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
"Stop staring and talk to me, Tigress. How was your day?" Jawaan asks, causing me to jump from unexpectedly hearing his voice.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight I was witnessing while watching a shirtless Jawaan with a muscular tattoo-covered upper torso cradling this tiny baby against his chest. Like me, Jawaan has his eyes closed as if he's savoring the moment. Unlike Jawaan, I'm mentally snapping pictures of this sight because I know it's one image I'll never be able to forget. My mouth is watering because of my thoughts about playing Tic Tac Toe or following the tattoos on Jawaan's chest with my tongue. When my pearl starts weeping, I clench my thighs to calm her down and prevent her from becoming a slip-and-slide.
Focus, Zurmani. There's a baby between you two, for goodness sake. Have some decorum.
"Nothing exciting to talk about, which is why I'm here. I wanted a better way to end the day. How was yours?"
"Mundane and routine. How long are you planning on being here?"
Hell, had you not started taking off your shirt, I would have left after the nurse took the baby from me.
"Not long. I need to get home to cook and get ready for work tomorrow," I answer, forcing a fake yawn when Jawaan opens his eyes, and a smirk plays on his lips.
Feeling my glasses slide, I push the frames higher before pulling my gaze away from Jawaan to look around the room. A few parents and volunteers are now occupying the space, making me smile.
"How about you let me treat you to a quick bite to eat so we can talk without disturbing Little Man's rest?" Jawaan suggests.
Returning my focus to Jawaan and the baby, my gaze shifts between them, and warmth unlike anything I've ever felt surges through my body. Jawaan looks like a proud parent, with merriment shining in his eyes and his arm protectively placed on the baby, whose body wiggles like an inchworm before the sound of little cries.
"Whaa..."
"What's wrong, man? Do you need me to move you to the other side or what? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable." Jawaan's voice is softer than when speaking with me, and his hand glides over the baby's back soothingly.
"Whaa. Whaa..."
The Little Man's cries intensified, causing me to stand and move closer to assist Jawaan with calming him down. Unconsciously, my hand went to the baby's back, and a zing of awareness surged through me when my hand collided with Jawaan.
"Oh, it must be time for him to eat," the nurse declares, appearing out of nowhere. "Would either of you like to feed him or do you have somewhere else to be?" the nurse asks, oblivious to Jawaan's words and my staggering heartbeat.
Words fail me when my gaze connects with Jawaan's eyes, and the temperature in the room becomes charged. I quickly remove my hand from the baby's back while disconnecting the eye contact between Jawaan and me. I'm not sure how this man had me cussing him out after interrupting my lunch one minute and then swooning the next. Jawaan's attentiveness to a baby who he didn't help procreate has my feelings all over the place.