“Of course. I’ll be out back.” Truthfully, I was overwhelmed with all the wedding and baby talk. I may have told Kenzi I was good, but I felt the anxiety creeping up my spine like slow heat from a burning furnace. I had to go get some air and blow one to calm my nerves.
I excused myself from the table, went into my smoke room, grabbed a sack and some leafs, then slid the patio door back and stepped out.
I took a seat on the couch and rolled up. Once done, I put fire to the end, inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly.
I relaxed, looking out at the greenery of my land. I purchased this home for us after Nichelle told me she was pregnant. Since she wanted to be closer to her family in Memphis, I got us a six-bedroom, three-bath home in Collierville.
As a literal African American, Ashanti made sure we learned about our African culture. I planted flowers for Nichelle and a garden for me. My grass was plush and deep green. I had a gazebo set up across the yard, with a fire pit in the center, for chilly nights when we wanted to enjoy the scenery or watch a movie on the projector.
I wasn’t a heartless nigga.
I wasn’t crazy either.
I was just a man with too many emotions and often thought too damn much, which made me feel overwhelmed and lash out.
I stayed on top of my meds because I refused to hurt the woman I loved or my child she carried.
I pulled on the blunt again, feeling my anxiety coming down with each puff.
The door slid open, and Ruger stepped out with the decanter of bourbon and two glasses.
“Need some company?” he asked.
“Of course, fam,” I said, waving him over.
“I mean, you left a nigga hanging with two chatty-ass women. I figured you wanted some space.” He chuckled.
“My bad. I needed some air. I just forgot to invite you out here.”
“It’s all good.” He took a seat in the chair to the right of me and poured us both a thumb. He handed me a glass, then picked his up and tapped it against mine.
I took a sip, letting the smooth, almond-flavored liquid ease my worries.
“Your home is dope, G.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re doing well for yourself. Got me feeling like a proud father and shit.” We both chuckled, mine being less humorous. “What’s on ya mind, Grue?”
I pulled from the blunt again before smashing it out in the ashtray. “Everything. The more I try to fight the feeling, the more fucked up I feel.”
“I had a learning disability in school. You gotta be more specific.”
I smirked, but then it dropped. “I don’t want to be a father,” I blurted. “I don’t want to get married either. It’s fucked up, and I feel fucked up for even saying this shit, but I’m fucking scared, Ru.”
Silence filled the space, and he allowed me to have my moment before speaking. “It’s normal to feel scared, man. Every father gets a little nervous about having their first kid. I already know my ass is going to be nervous as hell once Kenzi has my baby. Shit, she might be pregnant now, as much as I be?—”
“Come on, nigga. Chill.”
He laughed heartily, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. This time, it was real.
“I just wanted you to perk up, nigga. It’s not the end of the world because you’re about to have a baby, G. Once you lay eyes on her, your whole world is going to change. I promise you.”
“How you know?”
“I’ve seen it firsthand. You think Jax wasn’t a ball of fucking nerves when Sage was born? That nigga called on Jesus so much, I think He unplugged the phone on his annoying ass.” We both laughed. “But when she came sliding into this world, that man fell in love with her. Same as Sadé. He’d steal, kill, and destroy anybody that fuck with them or Wes.”
I nodded. “But Jax ain’t me. He ain’t walking around with mental health issues. I’m fucking terrified that my daughter is going to come out like me. People will judge her; they’ll tell her she’s crazy and try to make her take medicine for showing a deeper emotion than a normal person would.