Carl Weber: Baby Momma Drama

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve had a chance to be in both their court-rooms quite a few times,” Derrick answered with confidence, although he did look a little agitated.

“Then how come neither of them seem to know you? They both belong to my bridge club, and I asked about you.” Big Momma tilted her head as she released the smoke from her lungs.

“Well, there’s a lot of lawyers in Richmond, especially in night court. You know the night court judges are pretty busy men.” Derrick was visibly nervous as he glanced back and forth from Big Momma to me. “They probably don’t pay attention to a young lawyer like me.”

“That’s not what Judge Jones said. He told me that night court was actually a very small world and he made it his business to know every lawyer that came into his courtroom.” Big Momma took a long drag on her cigarette, then blew the smoke in Derrick’s face. “How old are you, young man?”

“Twenty-four,” he answered meekly.

“And how old were you when you finished college?” I could see Derrick doing the math in his head.

“Twenty-two.” It sounded almost like a question rather than a statement.

“Lord have mercy. Either you’re the smartest man in the world or the dumbest! ’Cause in addition to college, law school takes three years to complete, and your math don’t add up.” Big Momma shook her head and stared Derrick in the face. “Now, young man, what do you really do for a living?”

Derrick was so embarrassed that he walked straight out the door without saying another word. I got up from my chair to chase him, but Big Momma grabbed my arm.

“Child, if I told you and your sister once, I told you a thousand times. A good man is hard to find, and that is not a good man.” I sat down reluctantly and listened to her lecture.

Derrick didn’t return home for three days, and I was sick to my stomach with worry. It didn’t matter what Big Momma said; it didn’t matter what anyone said. Derrick was a good man. He was probably just a night watchman or factory worker who got caught up in a lie he couldn’t get himself out of. I promised myself right then and there that if God sent him home to me, I would forgive all his lies and be supportive in whatever he really did for a living. But I must admit I never expected what he would finally tell me.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbled, walking past me into the bedroom. I followed behind him and sat on the bed as he opened the closet and pulled out his suitcase.

“What that foul” I asked, taking the suitcase out of his hands.

He looked at me like I’d just asked the craziest question.

“You’re not leaving me, Derrick. I love you too much to let you leave me.”

“Look, Jazz, I’m not a lawyer. I’m the furthest thing from a lawyer.” I could see he was embarrassed.

“I know, and I don’t care if you’re not a lawyer. You lied to impress me? Well, baby, I’m impressed. Not with you being a lawyer, but with you as a man. I love you, Derrick. I just want to be with you.” I walked over and placed my arms around him.

“Jasmine, I love you, too.” He hesitated before continuing. “But baby, I’m a hustler, a drug dealer. When you first met me I was leaving my lawyer’s office trying to beat a possession charge. My lawyer asked me to do him a favor and mail a package.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked. For some stupid reason, I never even imagined that he could possibly be a drug dealer. I suppose the tons of cash he always carried should have tipped me off, but I was blinded by my love for this man. He always seemed so mature, nothing like those rough-neck gangbangers whose pants hung halfway down their backsides. I looked up at him. Nothing about him said “drug dealer.”

“Our whole relationship is built on a lie, Jasmine.” He reached for the suitcase.

“That’s not true. Our relationship is built on love.” I felt compelled to reassure him of my love. So without thinking or caring I said, “If you’re a drug dealer, Derrick, then so be it Just make sure you’re the boss and not some unimportant street-corner gangbanger. Be the best drug dealer you can be, ’cause I don’t want my man to be anything but the best” I could see the shock on his face as I pulled him onto the bed. We made love right there, sealing a relationship that would end up with Derrick spending three years of his life behind bars and me traveling up every weekend to see him.

I was stunned out of my thoughts when the PA system for the bus blared, the driver’s voice announcing that we had arrived at Roanoke Regional Prison. As usual, I got the chills when I looked at the tall, castlelike structure of the prison. This place gave me the creeps. Thank God Derrick only had six months to go.

It took almost an hour before I finally reached the visiting room. By then I was dying to see him. I smiled, eagerly telling the captain I was signing in to visit Derrick Winter. A brief look of jealousy came across his face but disappeared just as quickly. I bet he was wondering why a five-foot-eight-inch-tall, caramel-colored Tyra Banks look-alike would be visiting a convicted drug dealer. Well, it was none of his fucking business. I hated black correction officers more than any law enforcement officers, mostly because of the stories of abuse Derrick had told me. They always seemed to be harder on the black inmates because they needed to prove to the white officers that they weren’t cut from the same cloth. I wanted them all to know that someone like me was out of their class.

The captain flipped through his book, managing to keep one eye on my chest at all times before he found Derrick’s sign-in page. He smirked as he handed me a pen. I almost cursed out loud right then and there when I looked down at the sheet. There on the sign-in sheet for the previous day was Wendy Wood’s name. She was Derrick’s baby’s momma, and I couldn’t stand that bitch. She’d been trying to take Derrick away from me ever since we started goin’ together. I sighed heavily, tempted to turn around and not visit him at all, though I quickly changed my mind. I had traveled three hours to see him, so I was going to stick around to have the satisfaction of cursing his ass out. I stalked into the visiting room and found Derrick sitting at a table, waiting for me.

Even in those orange prison overalls he was so damn fine. I almost wanted to forgive him for Wendy’s little visit. But I couldn’t let him get away with that. I had made too many trips to see him and brought too many pairs of sneakers, not to mention the two and a half years of celibacy I was going through. He wasn’t gonna play me, especially not for that big-ass, weave-wearing bitch he had a baby with. Hell, no!

“Damn, baby, you think you could look any better? Every week you seem to get finer and finer. Mmm, mmm, mmm, come ’ere and give your man a kiss.” He smiled flirtatiously, and I almost melted at the sight of his gorgeous dimples.

He was doing it to me. He was making me blush even though I was mad at him. God, I hated the power he had over me. I was mad. He had done me wrong. Nonetheless, a smile was creeping over my face and I was about to give in as I felt his hands wrap around my waist.

“What the fuck was Wendy doing here?” I pushed him away as I regained my resolve. I could have plenty of attitude when I wanted, and I needed it then. I had to, because he was going to kiss me, and if he did it would have been all over “I asked you a question, Derrick! What the fuck was Wendy doing here?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then looked around to see who was watching.

“Sit down and I‘ll tell you,” he ordered me through gritted teeth. “What you tryin’a do, make me look like a punk?” He guided me into a chair.

“This had better be good, Derrick, or this is the last time I bring my black ass to visit you.” I sat down but wouldn’t let him touch me. My hands were trembling with anger.