Chapter 9
“You shouldn’t have been so mean when he tried to talk to you, and you would’ve known sooner,” Skye said.
It had been three days since Kilo approached me on the track, and I’d finally had time to have an in-depth conversation with my best friend. We’d talked, but I was still processing the information and wasn’t prepared to share until now.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. It’s been over two months since that night, so regardless, it was still too late to take any immediate precautions if that was something I wanted to do.”
“You’re right about that. Do you think you could be pregnant?”
“I had my period, so I don’t think so.”
“Was it normal?”
I thought about it for a moment and did recall it being lighter and shorter than usual, but it didn’t alarm me.
“Now that I think about it, it was lighter and shorter.”
“And you’ve been feeling sluggish for about a month.”
“That’s true. Damn, sis. I haven’t had a pregnancy scare in over eighteen years. I’m too old for this kind of nonsense.”
We were on FaceTime while moving around our respective kitchens. I had a taste for Alfredo chicken lasagna, so I was in the process of preparing it. She was also making dinner for her and Stokely since he was home for a few weeks.
“You may be too old for nonsense, but you’re not too old to get pregnant. Have you thought about what you’ll do if you are?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since he told me, which is why I didn’t tell you right away. Am I crazy for not being too concerned if I am?”
“Umm, he’s fine as fuck, he has a stable career, and he doesn’t give off psycho vibes. If you consider your options in this trash ass world of dating, your baby daddy could be much worse.”
I laughed at my friend’s perspective. She might tell jokes, but lying was something she rarely did.
“Ugh! Baby daddy. I definitely didn’t anticipate having another one of those, not that the one I have has ever been a factor. As much as I would love to get married and have at least one more child, this might be my last chance.”
“Girl, stop.”
“No, seriously, Skye. I’m not interested in being over forty and pregnant. There’s nothing wrong with it, and I think it’s beautiful that women who want to have babies in their forties are doing so, especially when they’ve been intentional about waiting or have had difficulty conceiving.”
“I think it’s wonderful, too, but I know what you mean. As you know, I’ve been saying one and done since Stokley was born.”
“That you have. I guess this conversation is premature, since I have no idea if I’m pregnant.”
“When is your next period due?”
“Any time between tomorrow and Sunday.”
“And you haven’t had any symptoms?” she questioned.
“Besides feeling sluggish, a slightly lighter and shorter period, nothing else. You know period symptoms and pregnancy symptoms are damn near the same.”
“Damn, women sure do get the short end of the stick when it comes to what we have to deal with.”
“Tell me about it. When my mother started menopause, she thought she was pregnant. The shit is never-ending.”
“Seriously. Well, I guess you’ll know soon enough, and it sounds like you’re okay with the idea.”
“I chose to have Nyeem as a nineteen-year-old who didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, and we survived and thrived. I suppose I should be making better decisions at thirty-six, but fuck it. I’ll survive and thrive again.”
“I heard that! And you know I take pride in being the best Titi and Godmother on earth. I always got you, sis.”
“And I love you for that and many more reasons. In the meantime, I’m about to do some research on my possible baby daddy.
I already scrolled through his Flikstagram page, but it’s not very telling.
It’s mostly pics of football-related stuff, his parents, him, and Knox.
There’s nothing there that gives me any insight into him. ”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, and tell my nephew I expect to see him before he goes back to school.”
“He already knows, sis, but I’ll tell him again.”
Our call ended just as Nyeem entered the house. Between his summer classes, his job, and his training, my son was rarely home.
“Hey, Ma. What’s for dinner?” he greeted, kissing my cheek.
“Alfredo chicken lasagna, salad, and garlic bread.”
“That sounds good. I’m starving. I’ll be back after I shower.”
He left the kitchen, and I continued preparing dinner. The lasagna had been in the oven for thirty minutes. I was almost done making the salad, and I would put the garlic bread in the oven in about five minutes.
By the time Nyeem returned, everything was done, and the food was plated. He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips when he saw his plate. I said a quick blessing, and we dug in.
“Thanks for cooking this tonight, Ma. My workout was intense.”
“What did your uncle have you doing now that you’ll be playing football?”
He blew out a breath and rubbed his hand down his face. For the next few minutes, he talked about the workout my brother put him through with some of his old teammates. Although he was complaining, I was met with a wide smile that reached his eyes, making them sparkle with excitement.
“I’ll be ready for whatever they send my way, Ma. Now that the idea of doing both sports has settled in, I’m excited about it.”
“That’s good. I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“Coach Kilo said there will be a press release tomorrow morning naming the new coaching staff and the most recent recruits. He told me to be prepared for the media to reach out to me.”
“You’re not new to this, Son. You got it.”
“I know, but you know some of them may want to talk to you. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“We’ve told our story enough times. If they want to hear or read it again, they can find it online. This is your time to shine, baby boy.”
“I like it when they interview us both.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m proud of how you raised me and everything you’ve instilled in me. I don’t care how many times we tell our story. You did it alone, without help from the other person who helped create me. You never complained, at least not in front of me. I’m proud of you, Ma. I’m proud of us.”
Tears filled my eyes before a few fell down my cheeks.
“Thank you, Nyeem. I didn’t do it alone, though. Mimi, GP, Uncle Robby, and TiTi Skye were there every step of the way.”
“I know, and I’m glad we had their support, but you’re my mama, and you handled being a single mother like a champ.
You never missed a home or away game, you took me to ninety-five percent of my practices, and you made sure I knew that my education came before everything.
You’re the reason I’m where I am today, so it’s our time to shine. ”
“You’re really trying to make me bawl my eyes out tonight.”
He was seated next to me, and I leaned toward him, pulling him into a hug.
“I love you, Ma. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”
“I love you too, Son, and you know what? I wouldn’t be who I am today without you either.”
Later that night, I sat in my bed with my laptop. The plan was to see what I could find out about Kilo St. Patrick, but after an emotional dinner with Nyeem, during which we somewhat reminisced about our journey, I ended up reading old articles about us.
I cried at dinner, but by the time I’d read the third article, I was boo-hooing. When I found out I was pregnant, I was pretty sure my life was ruined because I wanted to have my baby. When I told my family, not once did they express any disappointment or make me feel ashamed.
We came up with a plan, told my track coach, and put the plan into action. It wasn’t easy, and I was met with many challenges along the way, but I was determined not to let what most deemed a mistake define me.
After a good cry, I went to the bathroom to clean my face, then finally did what I’d initially planned.
There were a lot of articles about Kilo, but most of them were about his more recent endeavors.
In my interactions with him, it never dawned on me that he’d played professional football for ten years.
He also owned a gym in Chicago and a line of workout clothing for men sold only online.
I searched his name again, adding “BEU football,” and found older stories. I was a senior in high school when he was a senior at BEU, so we just missed being on campus at the same time. He and my sperm donor were on the team together, so I was certain they knew each other.
He was drafted in the first round by the Chicago Coyotes and played for them for his entire career before retiring eight years ago. As I looked through the pictures, I couldn’t ignore how handsome he was and how little he’d changed since then.
Kilo had a very clean image. He’d never been married and had no children, which meant he had no baby mamas to cause any drama if we were to date. I was thoroughly impressed that he’d managed to have a successful career as a professional athlete, and nothing negative was attached to his name.
I had no idea what I thought I’d find out about the man who had a chokehold on my mind since the first time I saw him.
Yet I was pleasantly surprised and slightly disappointed at the same time, because nothing I read made me less attracted to him, nor did anything make me oppose having his child if I were, in fact, pregnant.
When I finally put my laptop away, it didn’t take me long to fall asleep, but I tossed and turned throughout the night.
Something in me felt unsettled, and I couldn’t pinpoint what.
I wanted to blame Kilo because his presence in my life was the only thing that had changed.
Yet, blaming him didn’t make any sense because every time I thought of him, I smiled and felt warm and fuzzy inside.
When my alarm sounded, I begrudgingly got up and started my morning routine. On Fridays, my workout consisted of walking two miles around my neighborhood, or on my treadmill, depending on my mood and the weather.