Epilogue
KWAMé
“Excuse me.” A woman’s soft voice took my attention off the wall-window overlooking the street line. My office space was fully furnished now, and being next door to my man was poetic.
Glancing over at the door, my breath hitched in my chest. Stunning, she was.
Looking at the slightly older version of myself was like looking into a mirror that could see into the future.
She was dressed in denim jeans, expensive loafers, and a navy blue fitted blouse.
Diamond earrings graced her ears, wrists, and the diamond ring on her left ring finger rivaled mine.
Her makeup was flawless, her pixie cut was flawless… she was flawless.
Hesitantly, she entered my office. Thinking I was dreaming, I blinked a few times. The vision of her only grew clearer as she approached my desk and sat in the chair opposite my desk.
She cleared her throat and said, “Your husband said it was okay if we talk.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I felt the threat of tears on the horizon.
“It’s alright,” I whispered.
Her eyes shined with tears. “My name is Trinity.”
“Kwamé,” I replied.
Her smile was gentle. “That’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The weight of what she had to say was loaded in her eyes. Still, she revealed, “I was fifteen years old. I was sexually assaulted by my mother’s boyfriend.”
Instantly, my heart broke.
“He was a prominent judge who could make any and everything disappear.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
“When my mother found out that I was pregnant, instead of reporting what happened, she protected him. A part of me grew to blame her. Another part of me understood how scared she must’ve been.
He was capable of doing things that I can’t even speak of. ”
I knew the Bells, so it wasn’t farfetched to think that other people didn’t move the same. They could make anyone disappear.
“Despite how I ended up pregnant with you, I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to hold you.
Little did I know, he had other plans.” Her tears came a little quicker, prompting me to stand and go to her side.
I handed her tissues and placed my hand on her shoulder for comfort.
“The morning after I delivered you, I woke up to find that they had given you up for adoption. I was devastated. Leaving the hospital without you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. ”
I found myself in tears, too. Trinity had been lied to, and I was robbed of having a relationship with my birth mother.
“Initially, I wasn’t adopted,” I informed her. “I wasn’t adopted until I was nine.”
She gasped. “What?”
“A nice couple…my parents, Gion and Margarite adopted me. You’d love them,” I stated. “They’re still taking great care of me.”
She softly cried, and I wiped her tears this time.
“How’d you find me?” I asked.
Sniffling, she said, “My husband and I saw your press conference.” She shook her head.
“That man has always wanted to be a father, and my fear of the past kept me from giving him one. Your courage to stand in front of those cameras gave me all the courage I needed to come here, and to give my husband something he’s wanted forever.
Do you think you can forgive me? And do you think it’s too late to carry a child? ” Hopeful, she peered up at me.
Smiling through my tears, I said, “You’ve always been forgiven, Trinity. And I know just the doctor who will see you safely through a pregnancy should you make that decision.”
As if I gave her the extra push she needed, her hands palmed my protruding belly, and she laid her head on it. Chuckling, I wiped my tears and understood why I had to make the step to come out and speak my truth. It healed not just me, but other women who faced the same trauma.
“When are you due?” she quizzed.
“November. However, these babies belong to my brother, Antonias, and his wife, Bianca.”
She balked. “Babies?”
Grinning, I nodded. “They’re healthy and going strong.”
She put her ear back to my belly, and I giggled.
Then, something occurred to me. “You said he was a prominent judge?” I recalled.
She nodded. “He passed from a heart attack several years ago.”
Relieved, I responded, “Good.” It was either that, or my man and his family were going to have to kill him. And this time, I wouldn’t dare feel a way about it.
Just hours later, Ari went into labor. There was no hesitation in Russ to step in and guide her through the journey of becoming a mother. Russ was quietly professing his love for Ari, much like Adrian did with me. I was excited for my friend. She deserved happiness.
ADRIAN
As many times as I’d been in the trenches of nursing, nothing compared to being beside Kwamé during the delivery of the twins. I was barking orders like Dr. Cartright wasn’t that nigga when it came to this shit. He shot me a glance or two that warned me to chill out.
Baby A, a boy, made his way into the world with ease. Baby B, a girl, was stubborn as fuck. She waited five damn minutes to make her introduction. She screamed and carried on like we tried to kill her little ass.
Both babies were healthily above six pounds. Mama and Daddy each held one of their babies. Bianca was a basket case, and I’d never seen Antonias with tears in his eyes. I was happy for them. More importantly, I was proud as fuck of my baby.
Kwamé walked the pregnancy out like a big dog.
Not once did she complain—not even when she was tired or in pain.
That was where I came in. Since she was banned from spa days, I stepped the fuck up.
She was thoroughly massaged at the drop of a hat.
No matter how stressful my days were, I made time to please my woman and continue building a deeper bond with my daughter.
One day Kwamé and I would travel this road again.
This time it would be for our own child.
Her ass finally took me off the shelf. Day in and day out, I showed her why I was the best decision she ever made.
DR. PERCY CARTRIGHT
The holidays were hell for me. It would be so easy to pull the trigger.
If fear didn’t stop me, the barrel against my head would’ve forced hot lead through my skull.
Instead, I sat on the floor of my bathroom, contemplating, stewing, and finding everything but the right thing to talk me out of ending it all.
This world was hell, and I wasn’t living in it.
Every day, I walked the halls of Dr. Bell & Associates, wondering why no one could see death written all over me.
Which was crazy, considering I brought life into the world.
Delivering babies was a hard job, one that I wasn’t ready to give up. Not even for a death that awaited me.
High as fuck, I wiped my tears with the same hand that held the gun.
My ass hurt from sitting on this floor, but I wasn’t ready to get up.
I wasn’t ready to walk away from death again.
Several times, I sat in this same spot, fighting for death to take me.
Those closest to me would hate me. However, I hated this world.
I hated the life I had to live without my wife and baby.
Rylan was everything to me. She and I were middle school sweethearts and never missed a day of loving each other.
Since eighth grade, I’d never missed a day of seeing her.
Not even on weekends. Every time I thought I was over losing her, something set me off and plunged me back into the abyss of guilt and depression.
This last catalyst happened this past summer.
Seeing Zia Holmes jutted me back into a time before I met Rylan.
Sixth grade was the hardest year of my life.
Battling for my sanity while being juggled between two parents was hell.
Finally, my parents settled on me living with my pops for a while.
That was how I met Zia. My first day at a new school was easier because of her.
Zia and I had science together and would always joke about how we would one day work side by side.
All that changed at the beginning of my eighth-grade year.
My mother decided to uproot me and move me out of state with her.
For a time, my pops fought the move. However, he folded the minute he got a job offer out of the country.
So, I had to leave Zia and everything I knew in Pensacola to live with my mama in Virginia.
Zia and I failed to stay in contact, and I almost hated living in Virginia.
That was until I met Rylan. Life changed after meeting her.
“If you told me I would have to do this life without you, I would’ve called you a liar, Rylan.” Talking to the floor was just plain crazy. A puddle of tears were there, staring back at me. “If you don’t tell me what to do, I’m gon’ have to end it. I can’t take this pain anymore.”
“Dr. Cartright. Trauma alert.”
The clear voice coming through my intercom forced me off the floor. With a little less pep than I normally responded to staff, I pressed the button to offer feedback.
“Dr. Cartright,” I stated.
“Good evening, Doc. We have a thirty-two-year-old female enroute. GSW chest. Approximately thirty-five weeks gestation. ETA five minutes.”
“Copy,” I replied.
Moving through my apartment just a few floors up from the trauma units, I placed the nine-millimeter on my nightstand. There was a picture of Rylan there, mocking me. She smiled big and brightly, something she always did. My baby had always been carefree. I thought she was invincible.
Closing my eyes against the image of her stretched out in a casket, I went back to the bathroom, avoided looking in the mirror, and splashed some water onto my face. Grabbing a face towel, I wiped the water off and followed it up with some moisturizer.
Within seconds, I slipped my feet into my shoes, grabbed my keys, and left out of my apartment. On the elevator ride down to the first floor, I popped a piece of gum into my mouth. The blunt made me smell loud as hell. Delivering babies was second nature to me, though. I wasn’t worried.