Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(18)

“What, Maverick?” she mumbles.

“Li’l Man won’t stop crying.”

Ma pull back the covers and squint at us. My son cry and gnaw on his hand. Drool and tears run down his face.

“He’s teething,” she says.

“How you know?”

“Trust me, I know.” She touch his forehead. “He doesn’t have a fever. His gums are probably bothering him. Get him one of those teething rings I bought. He’ll calm down.”

“What if he don’t? I got school in the morning, Ma. I’m tryna sleep.”

The look she give me . . . man, she cuss me out with her eyes. “You should’ve thought of that before you had sex with that girl.” She turn her back to us.

“Ma—”

“Take care of your son, Maverick.”

Fine, then. I take him to my room and grab the teething ring.

“C’mon, man,” I mutter as I put it to his mouth. “Gnaw on it, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

He cry around it. I sit on my bed and rock him. I talk in them hushed tones like Ma do and tell him it’s okay. Minutes and minutes and minutes pass, and that li’l brown face scrunched up with tears all over it, and that tiny mouth won’t stop wailing.

“Please, man?” My voice crack. I only wanna sleep. “I’m tired. Please, calm down.”

He cry louder.

“What’s wrong with you?” I cry. “Just take the teething ring!”

I shouldn’t snap, but I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

I can’t make him stop crying.

I can’t sleep.

I can’t do this.

I set him in his crib as he scream at the top of his li’l lungs, and I walk out the room.

To the hallway.

Then the living room.

And out the front door.

I stop at the porch. It’s so quiet and calm outside, unlike in my room. I sit on the steps, and I bury my face in my hands.

What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t get a teeny little baby to stop crying. Then I left him in there by himself when he need me the most.

He need so damn much. I don’t wanna be needed no more.

I’m tired. I wanna sleep. And now I’m sobbing like a baby as if I ain’t got a baby sobbing for me.

I don’t know how long I been sitting here when the front door squeak open.

Ma come up behind me, rubbing my shoulder.

I try to suck it up. “I’m sorry.”

“All parents have moments,” she says softly. “I got him settled and back to sleep. Go get some rest, baby.”

Somehow I’m still her baby.

I drag myself back to my room. It feel like I just got back in my bed and closed my eyes when it’s time for me to get up for school. My body ache, I’m so tired.

I check on Li’l Man in his crib. He sleep peacefully as he suck on his pacifier. I hope he don’t realize I walked out on him. I love him, I swear I do, but it’s a lot, man.

I lean in the crib and kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

While he sleep, I iron my clothes: Girbaud jeans and a red Polo shirt to go with my white-on-white Reeboks. I’m gon’ have to throw a durag over my cornrows. Lisa would go in on me if she saw them all frizzy like this. Would say I better come to her house after school so she could redo them. I’d grin and tell her that’s what I hoped for.

I’m all twisted up over her.

Li’l Man still asleep, so I can go eat. I pour a bowl of cereal and watch a little TV. Maybe these Martin reruns will help wake me up. Ma stand in the living room doorway, rubbing cocoa butter on her arms. She never leave the house ashy.

“I know you’re probably exhausted, but you have to push through today, Maverick,” she says. “The first day of school sets the tone for the rest of the year.”

Then the rest of the year ain’t looking good. I just tell her, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t go to school with your pants sagging. Don’t nobody wanna see your drawers. Hell, I clean them, and I don’t wanna see them.”

She always say that, and I always wait till she gone to let them sag. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t be late on your first day of work. Mr. Wyatt was kind enough to give you this job, show him you appreciate it by being prompt.”

“Ma, you ain’t gotta lecture me, dang.”

She set her hand on her hip and tilt her head. That mean shut up. I do.

“As I was saying, be prompt,” she go on. “Whatever he tells you to do, you do it. Did you pack enough stuff for Mrs. Wyatt for Man-Man?”

I took Mrs. Wyatt up on her offer to watch him. It was either her or this daycare nearby and they charge way more. “Yes, ma’am. I packed his diaper bag last night.”

“Good,” Ma says. “See if you can talk to Iesha at school. Some conversations are better held face-to-face, and you obviously need some help.”

I watch my Froot Loops float in my milk. I know exactly what she getting at. “I’m sorry for last night, Ma.”

“I told you, Maverick, all parents have moments. At least now you have a small idea of how Iesha felt. You’ve had him for two weeks. She took care of him by herself for three months.”