I had no baby shower. I didn’t want the attention. I knew it would primarily be my church family in attendance, and after seeing how they did Karen and Angela at their showers compared to women who were married before becoming pregnant, I decided to spare myself the humiliation of it all. My mother didn’t like my decision on the matter, but respected it. She offered something on a smaller scale to include my friends from school only for me to decline that, too. Stenton had me draw up a list of the baby’s needs and send it over to Paul in early March. He himself had things for the baby delivered by the day to the apartment in Philly. I had to ask him to slow down. Hence why I explained to my mother, I had no need for a shower.
And then there was Stenton. He was a busy man, closing up the ’07-’08 NBA season. Though we weren’t in touch like we used to be, I could tell he was stretched. One night, I stalked Stenton online. I went to Facebook and Twitter, scouring the happenings of Stenton Rogers and came across a couple of clips of him surprising fans with cars for an endorsement deal he had with Toyota. Then I saw “behind the scenes” pictures he posted of his car giveaway campaign. Underneath them I observed the way the women went crazy over him, even read some comments where fans offered themselves to him sexually. I almost gagged. They knew nothing about Stenton. Sometimes I wondered if I really knew him. Since our time together in the Cayman Islands, I questioned a lot.
The closer I drew to my due date, the more I’d see him, but things weren’t the same. He made each doctor’s appointment he possibly could when his schedule permitted. He’d stop by the apartment in Philly to check on the progress. I chose not to stay there. It was too soon, too big, and every square inch of the place reminded me of him.
We had not been together since my birthday. As much as I needed the connection, I didn’t want the confusion. I had to prepare for this baby. Stenton may not have been decided on his desire for me, but I had to keep my head clear for Jordan.
~~~~~~~~~~
March 2008
~Stenton~
I rolled my phone in my hand at least fifty times, brooding. My chest was heavy, mind racing. So much shit on me: conflicting endorsements opportunities, disgruntled coaches, angry and fickle-ass fans, pesky-ass managers, shallow-ass friends…and Zoey.
We’d just lost a second game in a row. First to the Bulls and now to the Knicks. Coach was in my face bitching the same tune. Get your head in the fucking game, StentRo! As much as I wanted to provide a rebuttal, I couldn’t because I had no idea where the fuck my head was. I’d only known where my heart was and that was with two human beings in one body. I missed Zoey.
My Ni?a.
In the short time I’d known her, I’d grown accustomed to having a real friend. Her laughter alone did shit to me. And not to mention my heavy sacs. I missed her touch. Her enthusiasm to please me. Her ability to switch from smart-ass teacher, to eager freak. I longed for her eyes to soften and ask me about me; the real me, not the Stenton Rogers everyone pulled on for their own agendas. At night, when I often craved her, I wondered what she was doing and wearing while doing it. I wondered how many people experienced her smile, or her brilliance. If it were not for her being pregnant and that being a repellent for most men, I’d go fucking crazy about her fucking someone else. But would I still be with her if she was not pregnant? How would our story have played out if things had turned out differently?
I felt so fucking crazy. I couldn’t think most days and even when I did what I loved most, balling, I was in a zone trying to make sense of these feelings I’d had since meeting that smart-mouthed, pretty brainiac last summer.
I knew Zoey was in South Carolina visiting family this week. I kept an account of her whereabouts even though we weren’t exactly in touch. I knew she was hurt by my decision to walk away. I was pretty sure I was the last person she wanted to hear from, so I had my assistant check in with her regularly. I also had Tynisha keeping tabs on her. And if Zoey wanted something of significance, I had Chesney be her first contact. He didn’t like it, thought it was beneath him to be accessible to a client’s baby’s mother, but I paid him enough to change my child’s fucking diaper if needed.