Rehabilitated Love
Zakai Elijah Tillman
*ding, dong*
Stirring in my sleep, I lie still, wondering if the doorbell sound is real or if I’m manifesting sounds in my dream.
A single vibration from my phone on the nightstand has me fully opening my eyes while reaching to grab the device. Unlocking my device, I take note of the alert from my alarm camera on the front porch that instantly wrinkles my brows.
*Your package is being protected*
“What package?” Throwing my blankets off my body, I slide my feet into my house shoes and exit my bedroom.
I take the steps two at a time, and I reach the bottom level within minutes. I disarm my alarm at the panel beside the door before I unlock the locks and pull it open. A frown slides into place when my eyes connect with a car seat in front of my security door.
“What the fuck?” I grumble.
I turn the lock on the security door before I step onto the porch.
I look from left to right and search for whoever is responsible for leaving this carrier.
Unlike my thoughts, the street is quiet, with nothing appearing out of place.
Squatting in front of the carrier, I pull the blanket back to see a baby girl slumbering peacefully.
“Now, who left you out here by yourself, cutie?” My question is rhetorical because this baby is sleeping and too young to respond.
In my perusal of this little girl, my eyes connect with a manila envelope that is haphazardly on the child’s right side.
“Hm. Let’s take this in the house, and maybe I’ll find out what’s going on.” Gently, I lift the carrier with one hand and return inside the house.
Securing the screen and front door, I move toward my kitchen and place the carrier on the island.
While holding my breath, I stealthily remove the envelope from the car seat and remove the contents from inside.
A birth certificate and a folded piece of paper are the only contents, causing my brows to furrow as wrinkles form on my forehead.
Ignoring the birth certificate, I unfold the piece of paper, and my stomach drops to my feet when the information registers in my brain.
Dear Zakai,
Surprise, surprise, you’re the pappy, my nigga.
I would have told you sooner, but I’m still mad about you ending it with me.
Having drunk sex with you all those months ago wasn’t worth the positive pregnancy test two months later.
I hate you for allowing your nut to plant itself in my womb.
Being comfortable with you sexually and enabling you to slide into me raw despite our breakup was stupid on my part.
Ugh. Then I went through a horrible nine months only to birth someone who not only resembles my nemesis but reminds me of what I no longer want…
you. I have spent the past month trying to love this child despite her paternal lineage, but the truth is, every time I look at her, I become angry.
So, this is not only a fuck you to you but to her. Enjoy single parenthood, motherfucker.
Smiling on the inside while laughing on the outside,
Danica
“I know this woman didn’t—wow, this shit is crazy.” Reading over the letter for a second time, my chest tightens and releases before my eyes shift to the small sleeping person in the carrier. “There’s no way I’m a father. No fucking way I helped make a baby without knowing.”