Chapter 20 Business
Business
“Welcome, Zara.” Dr. Jacobs’ voice is warm, grounding. She smiles politely at Mama, extending her hand. “And you must be her grandmother.”
“Yes, I am,” Mama replies, shaking her hand with grace.
“Have a seat, ladies.”
We sit. The room smells like antiseptic and lavender-scented hand lotion.
Nickoi and my mother had flown out on Monday.
My mom kept a family dinner Sunday night, something to make it feel like Christmas for Mama before she headed back to California.
Work calls, always. So, it’s just me and Mama now. Just like old times.
Dr. Jacobs turns her attention to me. “How are you feeling today, Zara?”
I look away from my phone. Nickoi’s face lights up the screen. He’s lying down, half-awake, staring at me like I’m the only thing in his world.
“I’m okay,” I say, managing a soft smile.
“Good. Today we’ll do a few checks. And if we’re lucky, we’ll hear the heartbeat.”
That catches me. My lips curl into a real smile, and I glance at the screen. Nickoi’s smiling too, eyes still sleepy, but awake now, alert.
“Where’s Mari?” she asks, casually.
I flip the screen to show her. “Right here.”
Dr. Jacobs chuckles. “So you’re attending this visit virtually?”
“Wish mi was there in person,” he says, voice gruff through the speaker. “But mi did affi sort out some things.”
She nods. “Well, you won’t miss anything.”
“You a check her pressure?” he asks.
“Of course,” she smiles, pulling out the cuff.
I exhale, roll up my sleeve. She wraps the cuff around my arm, places the stethoscope to my chest. This time her smile grows when she looks at the monitor.
“Much better. Blood pressure’s normal today.”
I glance at Mama and squeeze her hand gently. “It was low last time.”
She nods, concern softening her face. Dr. Jacobs hands me a cup for the urine sample, and I slip into the bathroom. When I return, she tests it quickly and motions for us to follow her to the ultrasound room.
“It’s not guaranteed we’ll hear the heartbeat,” she says as we walk. “The baby’s still very small.”
“I hope we do,” Mama says softly.
I glance at my phone. Nickoi’s walking now, carrying the screen with him like he doesn’t want to miss a single frame.
“Nickoi?” I say.
“Wah gwan, mami?”
“We’re about to check for the heartbeat.”
“Mi ready,” he grins.
Dr. Jacobs looks at me. “You’ll need to undress from the waist down. We’re doing a transvaginal scan.”
The words hit harder than I expected. Intimate. Vulnerable. But necessary.
I nod. Mama helps me onto the table after I wrap the towel around my waist. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the machine as Dr. Jacobs begins the scan. I watch her face, searching for answers before she even speaks. And then, there it is.
Tiny. Fragile. A flicker of life on the screen. My baby.
She points. “You see that right there? That’s your baby. Eight weeks in about the size of a raspberry.”
My hand covers my mouth. A laugh and a gasp fight for space in my throat.
“Send mi a picture,” Nickoi says from the phone, voice thick with awe.
“You’ll get one,” Dr. Jacobs assures, focused on the screen.
Then she adjusts the probe slightly, and suddenly the room fills with a soft, rapid pulsing sound. The heartbeat. I blink fast, trying to stop the tears before they spill. But they come anyway. A sound so small, yet so enormous.
“God is good,” Mama whispers, squeezing my hand.
I glance at the screen again. Nickoi’s outside now, seated on what looks like a patio. He’s silent, watching.
Then he speaks, voice low and full. “Mi love yuh enuh.”
My heart splits wide open. “I love you too.”
Dr. Jacobs prints the picture and hands it to me.
I take it with trembling fingers, studying the small form like it’s a miracle.
Because it is. We schedule the next appointment.
She talks with Nickoi a little, then sends him the images.
I get dressed, wiping my eyes once more before stepping back into the hallway.
We stop at the grocery store on the way back. Mama grabs a basket and heads straight for the breakfast aisle. “Mi nuh need much,” she says. “Just some cereal and thing for you while yuh here.”
“Gavin eat out everything,” she adds with a little huff, making me laugh. “Gavin nuh easy eno.”
She grabs cheese, oats, fruit. “You want eggs?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Can’t stand them since mi get pregnant.”
“Dat normal,” she says, moving toward the freezer. “Pick out what yuh want.”
My eyes scan the shelves. Then I see it; kidney. I smile.
Mama catches it. “A kidney yuh waan?”
I laugh. “Mi know… mi used to hate it, but lately? Mi love it.”
She gives me a knowing look and moves on.
I carry the basket while she finishes up.
When we get to the register, I hand her the money before she can protest. We pack the bags and head to the car.
I get behind the wheel, watching Mama settle in beside me.
The ultrasound picture is on the dash, catching a little bit of sunlight.
And just like that, I started smiling again.
NICKOI
“So your G never bury yet?” Dwight asks.
He’s my dawg, grew up a few doors down from Grandma, Miss Cherry. She’s living here again, but she still keeps a place next to my mother’s in Jamaica. That’s where she was staying before she started traveling so much.
I shake my head. “Nah. With how him dead, and the way it look like gang war, dem a hold out the funeral.”
I take a sip of my Henny, the taste burns, but soothing. Dwight nods, serious. Just then, his sister steps outside. She’s giving me loose gyal energy, the kinda girl who pree you hard, pop her gum loud, and can’t keep her eyes in her head.
“Wah ‘bout Rick girlfriend?” he asks.
“Same ting mi a wonder. Gina get shot same time too. But maybe ‘cause it was a woman and she died inna the hospital, dem never wul out fi har thing.”
“Yeah man, probably dat,” he agrees, chin tilted like it’s making sense to him.
Then Chi calls him from the porch. She’s watching me hard, gum still smacking in her mouth. “Who’s this fine ass?” she says with attitude. She reminds me of Sash. That same energy.
“Mi bredrin this from box truck days, back when mi did live a yard,” Dwight says.
She flips her hair. “Oh, I’m Chyanne. But everybody round here call me Chicago. Or just Chi.”
I nod once. Mi nuh give a f—
I glance down at my phone. Zara flashes in my thoughts. She’s the only one mi actually care ‘bout. Dat a dat. “Later wi talk enuh, cuz,” I say, turning away. He stretches out a hand, surprised I’m cutting it short.
“Alright, mi G,” he says as I head inside.
I call Zara. The screen lights up and there she is, lying on the bed, looking soft and glowing like she missed me. “Hey… mi miss yuh enuh,” she says, her voice lower than usual.
“Mi miss you too, but mi uncle nuh reach yet. So mi still deh a foot,” I tell her.
She nods, then smiles to herself.
“Wah you a smile bout?” She flips the camera and holds up the ultrasound pic.
“Like, I knew I was pregnant, yeah… but from mi get dis? It feel real,” she says, giggling. I smile, watching her light up. The pride in her eyes damn near choke me. “It hit mi now. I’m really someone’s mom,” she adds, sitting up straighter.
I smile too. She look happy in a way mi wish mi could actually explain. I have no words. She sets the photo down, eyes still locked on me. “So… weh you a go now?”
“Just waiting pon mi uncle fi reach,” I say.
“Okay,” she says with a soft smile, then: “What business y’all dealing with?” Always curious.
“Him a open a hotel. Mi partner wid him, so mi deh yah fi sign some documents and work out wi percentages,” I explain.
She nods. “Oh, that’s big. Congrats baby.”
“Thanks,” I say, then pause. “Wah you eat since you reach home?”
She holds up her plate with Cobb salad and nuggets. “Hot,” I grin.
She flicks her wrist and do that lil’ gesture the girls do these days. “Periodt.”
I laugh.
“Mi love it. Mama add nuggets too,” she giggles again.
Then I hear Miss Cherry calling from the other room. “Nickoi! Your uncle reach!”
I exhale hard. Zara pouts. “Guess that mean mi affi go now.”
“Nuh fi long b. Soon as mi finish up, mi a call yuh back, Mami.”
“I know,” she says softly. “Mi just a wait. Keep mi updated though, okay?”
“Mi soon link yuh… heart a love,” I tell her. She kisses the screen before it goes black.