RIPPED & READY (PART 59)

RIPPED & READY (PART LIX) 

I assisted Tootchie, taking her by the arm, and we walked in silence down the ward, stopping at an empty lobby.  I aided her as she sat down.  I took the seat beside her and prepared myself for whatever it was she had to get off of her milk-filled chest.  I allowed her a moment to gather her thoughts, and when she had them together and spoke, I thought I was going to fall out of my seat. 

"Marco, I already know about Collin and you -- he told me when he returned home that night, but after you saved his life, I didn't feel right about reprimanding you; however, I need you to know that this baby I'm carrying is an extension of his love for me, so I need you to back off for a little bit," she said, grabbing me by my hand, tenderly.

You got to love a strong black woman, because they seem to always put up with a lot of shit from us men.  Deep down inside I guess I always knew that she had an idea that Collin and I were feeling each other more than just the "buddies" thing.  Now this is tripping me the hell out because I had Joseph but, somehow, I subconsciously considered Collin to be a back up nigga, just in case. 

I never even considered Tootchie's feelings and that was fucked up on my part.  I decided right then and there that I did not want to be an obstacle in their relationship (Shit, it was enough to be black and a couple).  I also believed that God frowned on anyone who put "asunder" what he, clearly, had put together.  I turned my hand around, and gripped hers tightly. 

"Tootchie, you and Denise kicked it so does that mean you're bisexual?”  I asked her out of curiosity.

"Marco, I ain't no fool when it comes to human sexuality; add a blunt or two, some cocktails, two sexual beings and what do you get?" She asked, looking over at me with this sheepish grin on her face.

"Yea, I feel you on that one," I said, chortling, knowing it was the same identical thing that had happened between Collin and me. 

"You know he really does love you, Marco," she said, in a sweet approving tone.

I was beside myself. 

I smiled.

"Nigga, I see you over there...don't act like you didn't know how fond he is of you," she added.

I wondered if she knew what that M6 tattoo meant.  I was one curious cat, but I wasn't that "got-dayum" curious.  Shit, over his heart was a tattoo signifying his love for me -- I knew that wouldn't go over too well. 

"Tootchie, I have a question to ask you," I told her.

"Okay, go for it," she said.

"Darrius showed up with a gun at my apartment early this morning and, had it not been for D'Andre, Joseph and I might be dead," I told her. 

She snatched her hand from out of my grasp, and put it on her stomach.  "Oh, my God, I cannot believe his stupid ass!  He is such a damn idiot, that's why I left him -- his little ass dinky wasn't the only reason -- I could've worked with that, but his crazy ass ways were too much," she said. 

Yea, Darrius was the type of crazy ass mofo that would drive around with pink hair-curlers in his hair (Just like Big Worm in that movie “Friday”).

She grabbed me by the hand again.  "I'm so glad nothing happened to ya'll," she said. 

"Me too," I said in agreement.   

I paused before I started telling her what Darrius had told me about the baby she was carrying. 

I hesitated.

I hemmed.

I hawed.

Okay, here goes nothing.

"Tootchie, Darrius said that the bun in your oven wasn't Collin's, he said it was his; now I know that nigga is lying, but I felt you needed to know what he was saying because he has probably spread that rumor all over the neighborhood," I told her. 

Silence 

The expression on her face shifted from ease to worry.

I hoped her delayed response meant something other than an admission about the baby being anyone's other than Collin.  Her silence was jabbing me in the neck (that's where tension always gathered, in my neck and back). 

"Tootchie, humor me, tell me that that is not Darrius' baby you're carrying," I asked again, trying to get her to answer my question. 

Still, there was nothing.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I know "got-dayum" well this girl ain't sitting here next to me getting ready to blow the lid off this fucking hospital roof. 

She still didn't respond.  She just looked out the window, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. 

OH-FUCK-NO!

Out of all the lives in the world, why in the hell did my life seem to be filled with so many highs and then followed, too quickly, by the lowest of lows? 

I allowed her to get herself together before asking her again.  I wanted to shake that damn answer out of her, but I didn't want to stress the baby out -- hell, she was doing a good job of that on her own. 

Hurry up “got-dayum-it” I yelled, silently, to myself.

Then, finally…

"Marco..."

D'Andre's interruption stopped her mid-sentence. 

Damn it!

"Hey, ya'll, the doctor is in there with Collin right now.  I think ya'll should be in there with us right now," he said, helping me pull Tootchie up from her sitting position. 

I didn't like the look on D's face. 

What the hell now? 

As we started our journey down the ward, a familiar, baritone voice called out D'Andre's and my name.  When we all turned around, the three of us broke into huge grins.  He was just what the doctor ordered, another soldier for support.

Damn, he looked so handsome.