20. Major
She tried not to react as her eyes filled with tears. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but Dynastie had me fucked up if she thought hiding the fact that she was once pregnant with my child was okay.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pushed away from the table and ran to the bathroom before I could stop her.
I gave her time to gather herself because I knew this wouldn’t be an easy conversation for a few reasons. Aside from the fact that I wasn’t supposed to know, whatever the reason was that our child wasn’t here with us was probably hard for her to discuss.
I went to the bathroom door and gently tapped on it. When she didn’t respond, my big ass sat on the floor in front of it. She couldn’t ignore me forever.
“I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” I said.
“I think I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve apologized since I walked in your front door. I’m over it.”
“Regardless of how many times I’ve apologized, I mean it every time. I will always make mistakes, but I won’t make the same mistake twice, because I learn from each one.”
She was quiet, hopefully considering my words, so I continued.
“One mistake I won’t make is losing you again. There’s nothing you could ever do that would cause me to let you go again. Nothing, baby. I keep apologizing because I keep fucking up. If the only thing I get right is loving you, I’m cool with that.”
I was met by another bout of silence, and I thought if I kept talking, she’d open up eventually.
“Lovie, can I tell you why I was upset when I heard you mention our baby?”
“Sure.”
“Because whatever happened, I wasn’t there to support you.
If you decided to have an abortion, I wasn’t there to support you in that decision.
If you miscarried or gave birth and, for whatever reason, our baby didn’t make it, I wasn’t there to support you through a difficult time.
I wasn’t there to hold you while you cried.
I wasn’t there to give you words of encouragement while you mourned and grieved.
I’m hurt that you didn’t think I should know, but I’m more upset at myself because I should’ve been there.
I hate that you had to go through it alone, whatever it was, and I am so sorry. ”
More silence followed, but this time, I didn’t fill it. I let my words settle in her spirit and prayed she’d talk to me eventually. About ten minutes passed before I heard movement, and I got on my feet. The door opened, and she fell into my arms.
“He was your son, too, and I should’ve told you. I was so upset and angry about everything that happened between us, and I let those emotions rule my decision. I’m sorry, Major.”
“Your feelings were valid, and you had every right to feel that way. Let’s sit down.”
I sat on the edge of the bed before moving to the center, resting my back against the headboard, and she crawled between my legs and made herself comfortable. A few minutes passed before she spoke.
“We had a boy, and I wanted to name him after you, but thought you might have a son with someone else and want to name him after you,” she finally said, her voice cracking.
“We had a son?”
“Yeah, but I went into labor at twenty-six weeks, and they couldn’t save him.”
I held her tighter as thoughts of her going through something so traumatic filled my mind.
“Was anyone with you?”
“Thank God, my friend, Zena, met me at the hospital and was there the whole time. My parents and brother came as soon as they could, but he was already gone.”
“Fuck, baby.”
I bit my bottom lip as I fought tears. It broke my heart, knowing she was alone.
“The nurses and doctors were very nice, but I’d never felt so alone in my life. I wouldn’t wish what I experienced on my worst enemy.”
“I know you’re sick of me saying it, but I don’t know what else to say, baby.
I hate that I wasn’t there. I hate that I let anything get in the way of my love for you.
If you never spoke to me again, you’d be justified.
If I could go back in time, I would do everything differently. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“My therapist said it’s called the past because that’s where it should be left. I know it’s easier said than done, but if we want this to work, we can’t focus on our mistakes.”
Her therapist was right. We couldn’t change what we’d done, but we could learn and grow from it.
“What did you name him?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Love Major Lloyd, and Major, he was so perfect.”
“Do you have pictures?”
“In my safe. Do you want to see them?”
I did want to see them, but I was hesitant to respond. My stomach was in knots, and I wasn’t sure I could look at pictures of the deceased son I didn’t know existed. When I didn’t respond, Dynastie tilted her head to look up at me.
“We don’t have to do it now. I know you’re still processing, so let me know when you’re ready.”
I nodded, relieved that she understood, but disappointed in myself for showing weakness.
“Did you—ahem—did you have a . . . a funeral?”
“It was small, just my parents, brother, and both sets of my grandparents. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because I never got a chance to say hello.”
I’d held back my tears for as long as I could, but the dam had finally broken. I should’ve been consoling Dynastie, but instead, it was the other way around. I was very in tune with my emotions and not afraid to cry, but it had been several years since I’d cried like this.
Eventually, my tears summoned hers, and for the first time since I dropped her off at the airport to start her journey in Onyx City, we cried together. Later that day, she took me to my son’s gravesite, and I broke down again.
We stayed there for hours, crying, reminiscing, laughing, apologizing, and strengthening our bond. It was hard to leave, but when we finally did, I was more confident than ever that we’d be just fine.
It had been two months since the fiasco with Dontrell. I still couldn’t believe he’d gone to those lengths just to get back at me, as if I’d beaten him to a pulp for no reason. One had to be a special kind of crazy to hold a grudge against and seek revenge on someone for protecting their loved one.
Dontrell was arrested, and because he made a copy of the key to Dynastie’s condo without permission, he was ultimately charged with breaking and entering, criminal trespass, possession of burglary tools, and vandalism for the damage he’d caused.
He was also charged with stalking because, unbeknownst to her, he had placed a tracking device in her backpack, among other things that were discovered later.
Once again, I messed up Dontrell’s face pretty badly, but the arresting officers were huge fans of mine and didn’t arrest me.
By the time the story hit the news outlets, it was a case of self-defense, and I wasn’t held liable.
Thankfully, that was one of those instances when being a celebrity paid off.
The attorneys I’d hired for Dynastie obtained search warrants for Dontrell’s residence, his office at the real estate company where he worked, and all his technology. He had files with information about Dynastie and me that dated back several years.
When we found out about the files, Dynastie became physically ill and shut everyone out for a little over a week. The only person she talked to during that time was her therapist, and I was grateful she was willing to talk to her.
My parents were heartbroken when I told them about their grandson, and for a couple of weeks, there was some tension between them and Mr. and Mrs. Love. My parents were hurt that the Loves didn’t tell them, but after an emotional conversation, my parents understood their position.
I’d already gone back to Onyx City a few times to visit my son, and my parents and sister had gone with me once. It was hard having him buried so far away, and I contemplated having him moved, but something about that didn’t sit well with me, so I let him continue to rest in peace where he was.
Dynastie and I still hadn’t discussed the ordeal in great detail. Between getting her condo ready to sell, moving her back to Illinois, my training, writing the memoir, and filming the documentary, it was easy to avoid the conversation.
However, we couldn’t avoid it any longer. I started therapy with Dr. Simone about six weeks ago, and she thought it would be a good idea for Dynastie and me to have the conversation we’d been avoiding in a joint session. Today was the day.
I’d connected my laptop to our 85-inch TV in the family room and logged into the video conferencing app. Our session didn’t start for about five minutes, so once everything was connected, I went to find Dynastie.
“You ready?” I asked when I found her in what used to be the second guest room but was now her office.
“Is it time?”
“Almost. What are you doing?”
“Looking through the pictures your mother gave me for the memoir. You’ll have to narrow these down for me.”
“I can tell you right now, you can forget about using this one, this one, and this one.”
She laughed and snatched the pictures I’d picked up from my hand.
“Of course, you pick the cutest ones.”
“Cute? Baby, I was fifteen in those pics and well into my fine stage.”
She shook her head and said, “On that note, it’s time to go.”