+Positively Unexpected Part 7

…Happy Holidays…

Tasha told herself she would tell Kingston the truth. When he could handle the truth. If he only called 911 for the sake of the child she carried, she did not want to give him an excuse to end his life for good.

Tasha’s mother sent an old fashion postcard from Cancoon. She and Pat enjoyed riding horses on the beach, eating shrimp cocktails by the pool, and getting massages from their room balcony whenever they requested one. Her mother made no mention of the scandal Tasha recently found herself in, and for some reason, Tasha was relieved her mother ignored the drama, but at the same time, felt like her mother didn’t care enough by ignoring the subject all together.

Jenny had been helpful… For the past three weeks, she had been Tasha’s best friend all over again. The paparazzi wouldn’t leave Tasha alone and bombarded the front doors of her apartment building. Jenny delivered groceries, pre-natal vitamins, and most helpful of all, Jenny and Humphrey had delivered comforting company. Tasha wanted to spend Christmas with Jenny, but Jenny suggested Christmas with the Rourkes was best, since Hope graciously offered. Granted, Jenny made the suggestion thinking Kingston was the father of the baby, not Dax.

On several occasions, Tasha nearly broke down and told Jenny the truth, but she partly feared Jenny would support her notion to lie and help Tasha perpetuate the lie of paternity. Jenny growing up was the one that said a good lie never hurt anyone. Tasha in her innocence said truth and transparency was the only way to live. Tasha wondered where that sweet, honesty hungry girl went, because she was a total stranger to her and the world now.

Kingston would text Tasha here and there. He would ask her how she was and if she needed anything, but with Jenny taking such good care of her, she didn’t need anything from him.

Hope stopped by last week and brought Tasha some paperback books on pregnancy. The gift was significant because Hope selected the best literature from all that she read through all three of her pregnancies. Tasha felt worse about her looming lie on that day, but the fear of Hope going public with Tasha’s lie fueled Tasha’s silence.

Hope extended an invite to come a few days before Christmas and spend a few nights, but Tasha only agreed to Christmas Day and that was all she was going to do.

Tasha spent Christmas Eve with her father, Jenny, and Humphrey. After dinner, they sat in the living room and allowed Humphrey to open one gift. He selected the one from Tasha and was blessed with a dinosaur toy Jenny swore he wanted more than anything. By his reaction of sheer joy and enthusiasm when he tore the paper to reveal what the toy was, Jenny didn’t lie about that. The plastic raptor was the only thing Tasha could afford.

While Humphrey ran around the living room with his new toy from his sister, and Jenny went to get dessert ready, Tanner handed Tasha an envelope. Inside was a transaction slip for a large sum of money and the code to get the amount released to any account she wanted. It was enough to pay off her fines and legal fees. Accepting those funds would cancel her debt.

“Dad, you don’t need to do–,” Tasha tried to hand him back his offer.

But he walked away from her.

Humphrey sped toward Tanner making raptor noises as he led with the raptor toy out before him like a sword. Tanner crouched low and pretended to be a dinosaur whisperer and the two cautiously danced in a circle, waiting for the other to make a move first. Impatiently, Humphrey lunged first and Tanner rapidly picked the boy up as they spun in a circle. He held Humphrey by the legs holding him upside down. Humphrey giggled and begged to be put down.

“Please daddy! I have to go pee!” Humphrey squealed as his father tickled his stomach and he dangled by his father’s clutches. “DADDY!” Humphrey screamed.

Chuckling Tanner finally listened to his son’s request. Humphrey sprung toward the first floor restroom, dropping his toy on the rug by the tree.

“Children are expensive. Your money should be invested in your child, not spent paying for one mistake you happened to get caught doing.”

“What if I place the child in adoption?”

“Pay off your debt anyway… in case you ever want a child one day…”

“You’re so good with him…” Tasha said, safely placing the envelope in her purse.

“I wish I was better with you… I remember the day you were born as clear as day. When I held you I never loved anyone as much as I loved you then and still do… Every fiber of my being and molecule of my body loved you so much… I was so freaked out I was going to destroy your whole life… I was glad you were a girl… I figured you had a better chance of being sweet and innocent, I prayed to God that you would be…”

“You’re not religious…” Tasha wondered if Jenny finally convinced her father to attend mass regularly. Jenny’s entire family were devote Roman Catholics. Dean was always open about his faith, even in the workplace, that was part of the reason Dean and Tanner would clash in business decisions, when actions necessary to take would violate something about Dean’s religion.

“No, not really, but if you were to ask me with all the years I lived if there was a God, I would say there has to be one… For if humanity had the power we think we did, we would have already destroyed each other eons ago. There must be some power in the universe that loves us too much to let us do away with each other like that…”

That evening Tasha left her father’s house feeling loved. The words that he said about her. That he loved her with every fiber of his being and every molecule in his body. For a second, she imagined having a daughter and loving her the same way or maybe even more. Tasha couldn’t remember the last time she truly loved anyone or anything. Did she ever love someone? And the sad reality that she had never been in love made her realize she would fail as a mother.

After the Happy Holidays, Tasha was going back to the clinic to enter NYSAPP: New York State Adoption Placement Program. The greatest act of love she was ever going to do was find a family that functioned normally and knew how to love properly.

…Christmas…

Tasha arrived to a happy, cozy home in the suburbs outside Manhattan. The finest suburb upper-middle class had to offer. The two story home was modern age, with a flat top roof as sections of the home stacked like skewed blocks.

Blue, yellow, and purple icicle lights hung from the first and second stories. The walk way to the door flashed with strobe lighting with each step Tasha took. From the front door, Tasha heard Christmas music and laughter. She rung the door bell and the H.A.I. (House Artificial Intelligence) asked her to state who she was, without hesitation, the door popped open and announced her arrival.

“Tasha Turner has arrived…” said the H.A.I. with a soothing, female voice.

Kingston’s whole family stopped their fun in the living room, playing a virtual game on a holo-sphere and stared at Tasha, holding a tin of fruit cake. Normally, as a guest at dinner she usually brought wine, but as a pregnant woman, she thought wine would send a negative message. Plus, with how religious Hope was at the hospital, Tasha took a bold guess to assume the family didn’t drink wine.

Everyone in the room were adults. Only two people were familiar to Tasha. Kingston sat in a recliner smiling at Tasha. Hope stood near the foyer, closest to Tasha, standing by a man that had Kingston’s jawline and dimpled cheeks. He was too young to be his father, therefore, that must be his brother, Logos.

Looking over their shoulders to gaze at Tasha, sitting at the couch, were two men on each side and a woman in the middle. The man on Tasha’s left was black with long dreads. He had his arm on the back of the couch around the woman’s back. The woman had Kingston’s hair and Hope’s eyes and nose. She had to be Kingston’s sister, Genesis aka Gen. The other man with a bald head and a long gray beard was clearly the man where Kingston and his brothers got their eyes, Mr. John Luke Rourke.

“Welcome Tasha,” Hope said.

Kingston rushed over to Tasha. Logos took her coat and hung it up as Hope took the tin of fruit cake gratefully. Kingston greeted Tasha with a sincerely warm hug, which brought Tasha a great deal of comfort. Not just because he was a great hugger, but a hug like that meant the man had hope, and could bare to hear the truth. The truth she craved to get off her chest.

Immediately, everyone broke the awkward tension and sat her down on another recliner in the living room. Hope laid gifts at her feet and on her lap. Gen made small talk. Logos brought her fresh hot chocolate. John Luke introduced the black man. He was Gen’s husband, Cress.

Overwhelmed, Tasha asked where the nearest bathroom was. Kingston jumped to her rescue to show her the way. Through the kitchen and toward the garage. The door to a half bath was in the nook to a second staircase that led upstairs.

“I don’t need to go to the bathroom…” Tasha confessed.

“I figured…” Kingston laughed. He looked into her eyes with intrigue like he wanted to kiss her. “They just want you to feel welcomed.”

“Yeah…” Tasha averted her eyes, and began to pick at her thumbnail nervously. “I may not be welcomed here much longer, when everyone finds out…”

He took her by the shoulders and bent his head to catch her gaze with his, “Just take a deep breath and don’t worry about anything. You’ll learn nothing stops this family from loving anyone… That’s what make them pretty great.”

Tasha was about to blurt it all out, when a framed newspaper clipping caught her eye with the title: Wayd v. Rowe. Pointing at the frame of history, she asked, “You’re mother was alive during this case?”

Wayd v. Rowe was the very case that helped shape modern abortion law and led way to the adoption placement program across the country. A man sued the woman pregnant with his unborn child, and by some miracle won. The judge ruled for the woman to carry until the fetus was viable outside the womb.

The man’s lawyer was a genius. Arguing the fetus was not part of the woman’s body but was a life temporarily a resident in the woman’s womb. And that if the abortion was carried out, it should count as murder, since in Manhattan, if a pregnant woman was murdered, the murderer was prosecuted for two murders.

By the time the case made it to supreme court, the baby was born, placed in the NICU, where the child miraculously survived and was 9 months old when the Supreme Court finally ruled.

“Um… sort of…” Kingston huffed, coming behind Tasha. Standing so close behind her she could feel his breath against her neck. “My grandfather was the man who sued for the right to have a choice, whether his child should live or die.”

Shocked but not shocked, Tasha turned to Kingston, “Your mother is the fetus that reversed Roe v. Wade?

“Yeah…”

Tasha felt closed in a box. She walked toward the kitchen, needing the relief a spacious area brought. Hope’s passion for Tasha’s child to live wasn’t just for religious reasons but for heritage reasons too.

The urge to blurt out the truth ate away at Tasha’s soul. She was able to fight it off around Jenny and at home, but in this house it was like being placed in a furnace and the heat begged her to scream the truth. For the lie alone tormented her. Lies usually were easy for her to keep, but this lie was too heavy. Tasha no longer cared if her career died or survived, she wanted out from the weighty burden of her child’s false paternity.

Tasha rested her hands on Kingston’s shoulders as she stood on her toes to whisper loudly in his ear, “You’re not the father…”

A Quick Note from the Author

This section is short but sweet. Turns out there’s a law in Arkansas that gives father’s the right to slap an injunction to stop a woman from getting an abortion. The article I read on it was really biased and left-wing. A little interesting how my story may not be that far fetched after all.

Much love,

“Can Death You Be an Angel?”

Death can you deliver me?

Can you set me free?

Will you come from for her?

Cancer. Incurable, just compressible.

The worst woman in the world,

Finally got what she deserved.

Cancer. Stage 3. Deadly.

I thought I’d be happy to see her go.

But I’m sort of sad about it.

Death can you be an angel,

And promise everything will be okay,

When my mother has gone away?

“Mottoes”

My job is the best, but working minimum wage for five hours, five days a week will not pay for bills and taking care of a baby. I haven’t physically gone into the office down town since I started showing. I’ve been emailing all my work, but I’m stuck going in today because Esmeralda refused to accept my photos for February’s Magazine without seeing me.

The jerk left his old camo jacket behind, which is super warm and majorly baggy to hide my baby bump.

I started working for Mottoes last year. I forged Jewel’s signature, so I could start working at 15. Only my counselor at school knows I work there. The job fits well with going to college classes at night.

Mottoes is a media group where young voices provide the content. Ages 15-26 either write for Mottoes magazine or take pictures or do both like I do. Then we have a radio show and a few podcasts. It’s amazing. But for all the work we do, we do workshops and get paid for it. Actual professional journalists and media moguls come and share their methods to their craft. We also do fun activities and hang out together.

As usual we circle up in the center of the meeting room, which just has boring white tiles and boring cream ceiling tiles, and we’re in a basement room so there’s no natural lighting. We’re going to spend the next 30 minutes sharing one blessing and one curse. This time gives us all some peace in our very messed up lives, and this circle time also makes us like family to each other.

Troy Eldridge, his entire left arm is burnt up like a crisp, and he has severe nerve damage in all four of his left fingers. Somehow his thumb is normal. His parents were cooking meth when he was four and their meth lab blew up. He caught fire while he was running out of the house and he was too little to stop, drop and roll.  Part of his body is burnt too, but no one can see it. He went to go live with his aunt who was married to an alcoholic. For years he was his uncles punching bag when he was drunk. In middle school, Troy was the bully, beating the snot out his victims. He got kicked out of nearly every public middle school on the Eastside. CPS finally figured out he was being abused and but him with his paternal grandparents his freshman year of high school. He grandpa was a retired minister and his grandma turned out to be a sweetheart saint. It took a couple years, a lot of counseling, and Mottoes for a few months, but now Troy is a creature he likes to call human. If I wasn’t in love with Derek, or pregnant, I would totally date him. He’s not the cutest guy, but he has a warm charm and kind, soulful sage green eyes. Nah, I would not date him… His scars are really cool though… maybe I would…

Alice is a recovering anorexic.

Blaine suffers with severe depression.

Misha’s a former drug addict: painkillers. She used to be like a soccer prodigy, but a year ago she got in a car accident with her mom and they both survived, but due to injuries to Misha’s pelvis and left leg, she’ll never play sports again. She can’t even run and needs a cane to walk. After she got out of rehab, she was referred to this place and host’s a sports radio show, she surprising loves it.

Kyler doesn’t talk, and no one, but Esmeralda knows why… he’s the magazine’s current co-editor. He’ll write on notepads, send texts, and send emails, so he’s literate, but he simply doesn’t talk.

Fiona is a hot-head, she gets pissed off super quickly.

Then there’s me… I seem like the fairly, normal one. I’m honest about Jewel’s verbal abuse. I’m honest about being more of a mom to my sisters than Jewel. I’m honest about me and Derek, but everything else I sweep under the rug.

Mottoes has more meeting rooms with more groups similar to ours, but we meet in a small setting, with one leader. Esmeralda Ranaldi is our fearless leader. She has a gold nose ring in her left nostril. Her long, dark drown dreads are held back by head scarfs. Long flowy dresses with wild designs are her style. Bold and big gaudy, sparkly jewelry in her ears, around her neck, and on her wrists. And rain or shine, hot or cold, she only wears some form of sandals. Inside, she walks around barefoot as frequently as possible.

Trying to sit down on the ground without looking 20 weeks pregnant is a challenge. Troy notices I’m wincing as I squat low.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He reaches out to help me, but I smack his hand away. “Don’t help. I’m good.”

I realized kneeling on the floor and then slowly adjusting to sit down made it possible.

Esmeralda smiles ear to ear not taking her eyes off me, which means she wants me to go first.

“Savannah! It’s too good to have you back! In honor of your return, please, go first.”

I’m totally embarrassed. I wish I could curl into a ball and disappear. “Can I go last?”

Esmeralda cautiously nods her head yes agreeing. “Sure…” she mutters. “Troy, you’re up!”

“Curse: I’m flunking Algebra 2. Blessing: I’m getting A’s in every other class. This is my best semester academically in the history of my school career… so I guess I need to find a tutor so I can end the semester well?”

“Sav should tutor you. She’s a math genius.” Misha says. She’s lucky and gets to sit in a chair. I guess I could have faked a leg injury to get a chair… but then I would have to create a lie how I got hurt. Less lying this way, maybe no lying.

“I don’t know… I have like zero free time…” I say, which is true now that I’m living with Jewel and my sisters again.

One by one, everyone shared their blessing and their curse for the day. I zoned out after Troy, trying to figure out what I’m going to say. I think I have to go big. I can’t hide a baby from everyone.

“Okay Savvy, you’re up…”

“Did Kyler go? I hadn’t noticed.” I admit.

Everyone squeals yes in various ways as Kyler holds his little whiteboard aggressively. The top reads: BLESSING: I tried coffee and liked it. The bottom reads: CURSE: I PEE A LOT FROM TOO MANY CUPS.

“Peeing a lot sucks dude… but at least you can stop it by not drinking coffee… me however, I have like a little person growing inside of me that kicks my bladder a lot and makes me pee all the time. That’s my curse: teen pregnancy. Blessing: impending motherhood… I think.”

Misha, Blaine, and Alice think I’m joking. They laugh hysterically.

“Good one!” Blaine blurts out.

“I don’t think she’s joking. It may be winter, but you don’t need a military winter jacket for Tucson.” Fiona states.

I unveil the bump by opening the jacket, the laughing stops, and all eyes bug out except for Fiona.

Reluctantly, Esmeralda asks, “Do you…want to… share more with… us?”

“No, I’m good.”

Getting up from the floor, I let Troy help me up. He’s sweet. Everyone disperses to their battle stations, except, I join Esmeralda at her desk.

She leans back in her swivel chair, nervously clicking the top of her retractable pen without stopping. I struggle to find comfort in the modern, egg-shaped plastic chair.

“This is why you haven’t come in,” leaning forward and resting her arms on the desk, “You were ashamed of your pregnancy?”

“No… not totally… my mom has stage 3 lung cancer. She doesn’t want traditional chemo, and she doesn’t want surgery to try and live. She wants to die… So we maybe have a year with her. I just thought my time has been more important to spend with her and my sisters than coming here.”

Okay, so I tell a little white lie… but it would be true if I knew sooner. It’s more of an excuse than a lie, right?

+Positively Unexpected – 6

…Rm 1234…

IT was ironic Kingston stayed in a room with consecutive numbered digits. Tasha stood near with the door, with Hop standing close behind her in the threshold.

Kingston was still asleep. His complexion a pale gray, void of life. The strong aromas of cleaners made Tasha extra queasy.

The corner view of the city couldn’t be more depressing with a looming, dark overcast sky. Tasha wanted to blackout tint the windows, or change the view to a peaceful beach. However, with psych patients modern medicine overloads them with truth. And the truth was a blizzard was fast approaching and the sky said so.

Incredibly intimidated by this circumstance and her thoughts about work, Kingston, Jennifer, Hope’s threat, Manhattan, Giles, her reputation, the baby…

Oh no, she referred to her pregnancy as a baby in her thoughts…

Then murder rung loud in her ears. The nightmare of battling Hope in court flashed visions in her mind of the possible torture. The term “legal fees” made her heart hurt. What if she lost the baby due to stress? Could a miscarriage be a blessing?

How insensitive of her thoughts?! How insensitive of her? But if she did miscarry the world would sympathize with her. But not once Kingston was dead though, because that’s probably what he would do! …He would die, if she lost the baby…

But none of this would be a problem if she was honest to begin with. She held a secret in her purse that could dissolve any further connection to Kingston’s life. But then, the chaos would collapse on her and all people would focus on what a liar she was… Yet, the longer she stood in that room, the truer it became that she was and always will be a deceiver.

“I’m sorry…” She turned to Hope behind her. Tasha clutched the straps of her purse, and clung them tightly.  Avoiding eye contact, Tasha explained, “I shouldn’t be here…” She rushed to the door, expecting Hope to move out of the way but she didn’t.

“You’re family now. You’re welcome here.”

Gasping with a chortle, Tasha snickered at that statement. She didn’t feel welcomed.

Hope’s eyes finally caught Tasha’s gaze, which made Tasha realize she was welcomed in that room.

Hope explained earlier she didn’t know how to cope with her gay teenage son all those years ago and now deliverance stood in the form of pregnant Tasha. Tasha wasn’t easy when it came to affairs, but she knew when a lover enjoyed sharing the sheets with her, and Kingston most likely didn’t… Tasha’s curiosity and Kingston’s anger is probably what made it worth while, will there be a repeat? Probably not.

Awkwardly, Tasha reached inside her purse and glanced at her phone, hoping to find an excuse to suddenly leave. She did miss a gazillion fresh calls from Rodeheaver, yes that was his name, Dax Rodeheaver executive producer for the Deets– her boss.

She held up a paper thin, Pure G XXI, the size of an Ace playing card that can expand to an 8″ x 10″ tablet, when placed in a Pure Tab XI shell. Tasha pointed to the missed Vid Chat notifications on the surface as she faced it towards Hope, “Work calls, if I don’t go I’ll be out of a job. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I should be putting this fire out at work.”

Hope stood out of the way stating, “All you do is slander and gossip about people…”

Defending herself, “I vowed to not lie on TV again. All I do is place reasonable doubt based on factual information I find. People watch my show because I’m a famous liar.”

Hope allowed Tasha to exit the room.

As Tasha stepped into the hallway, Hope asked, “What do you plan to do?”

Tasha slipped her arm through her purse handle straps. The purse slid down into the nook of her elbow. As sincerely as possibly, she said, “Tell the world what you told me… And announce my pregnancy. I won’t say anything else.”

…Rodeheaver’s Office…

“[Bleep] no,” Rodeheaver refused to stream Tasha’s pitch.

“I told his mother that I was going to do it.”

“The public doesn’t care why he’s still alive. Stories about why he tried to off himself is trending.”

“We can get ahead of the crib–curb…” Tasha cleared her throat after correcting herself, “by shifting everyone’s attention to the fact he’s still alive, not that he almost died.”

“Still [BLEEP] no,” Rodeheaver said puffing on his e-cig. He blew the vapor into Tasha’s face.

She couldn’t fight her nausea anymore. Grabbing the waste bucket next to Rodeheaver’s desk, Tasha placed the round trashcan on her lap and threw up in it. She dry-heaved out of disgust with vomit splattering in her face.

Rodeheaver went on a cursing tangent, grossed out.

Tasha put the bucket on the floor, next to her seat. Rodeheaver, stood up from behind his desk and set his e-cig down. He crossed to the front of his desk, and sat on the desk surface before Tasha. He loosened his crimson red tie and rolled up his sleeves to his navy blue button down. With the back of his hand, he rubbed the beaded sweat off his forehead. Squinting his hazel eyes, the more defined the crows feet on the outside corners of his eyes were. Lastly, he crossed his arms and the light bounced off his shiny bald head as he stared at Tasha with scrutiny.

“I thought, according to our contract, your tubes were tied…” He pondered.

“The Network Contract does not say that,” Tasha never signed a document she didn’t read thoroughly.

He grumbled and Tasha knew he meant their private contract.

“No, that contract required me to be on birth control and if we ever became exclusive said I would agree to tie my tubes… By the way, I don’t see why you just don’t get snipped yourself.”

“I wish I could, but I’m the last Rodeheaver of American descent. Until, I have an heir I can’t get the procedure authorized by my insurance. I can’t do it illegally, because I could lose everything if a doctor found out at one of my quarterly check-ups.”

“Right… and you don’t want any heirs to take everything from you and leave you in a senior home.”

Grunting subtly to Tasha’s last statement, he pressed forward, “A lot of stories are spinning the same gunk. You were sited at his club hangout kissing him by the bar, went back to his place while Giles was in Japan last month. Last week you were seen going in and leaving the clinic, you’re what? Seven to eight weeks with child?”

“About nine weeks actually…”

“You’re two weeks pregnant at conception… We finished our private contract seven weeks ago, on my desk remember?”

She remembered, but she didn’t realize the technicality.

“A source told Now News that Kingston was posing as the father to co-sign. Did you get the results back?”

“No…” Tasha lied. She knew he’d ask to see it and if he saw it, she could kiss her career and her life good-bye. Sure, getting the abortion would be easier. Because Kingston definitely wasn’t the father… Now, Tasha suddenly felt worse for lying to Mrs. Rourke. Carter couldn’t be the father… because he was snipped. And well, the father just made it obvious he didn’t want the kid to usurp his throne. But if it got out Kingston wasn’t the father of her baby, she would become a home-wrecker and a gold-digger…

“Any other candidate other than me and Bordner’s leftovers?”

“No…” Tasha sighed rolling her eyes. She should have stayed at the hospital.

“Well, until those results come in or we figure out how to spin this [bleep] the way I like, you’re on paid leave.”

“What?” Tasha was confused.

“I can’t fire you, you’re pregnant.”

“Whoa, wait, you want to fire me?!”

“We hired you because you were the most, beloved, trusted liar in TV… Now you’re just a liar and potentially a money-leech with that parasite you’re carrying. We need your story to somehow be historical to blow all this [bleep] out of the [bleep]-ing water. Depending on how Kingston Rourke’s name trends, will determine if you get canned once you don’t have a reason to be on paid leave.”

Tasha couldn’t believe him. Normally, Rodeheaver wasn’t like that with Tasha. He would let her spin anything she sunk her teeth into, even after their private contracted ended, he granted her favor. And Tasha was fine with renewing the contract, he was the one that decided the terms and bylaws for their affair was played out.

Tasha stood up grabbing her purse. He took her by the arms and told her, “You know insurance won’t authorize the procedure if I’m…” he cleared his throat, “if I’m the lucky candidate…”

“I won’t say anything. I’ll say I don’t know…”

“We had a contract, they look up that kind of stuff…”

“Well, then I either go to Canada and get it done or I just give the kid away because I said it before and I’ll say it again, I will never be a mother and I may be in debt until I die, but I will walk in front of a cab before I take money from a man for child support.” Shoving herself away from his grasp, she snapped, “You’re not contracted to touch me like that anymore. Keep your hands off me you mother [beep]er!”

Author’s Note:

I get that this is a very controversial topic, filtered through more controversy. I am honored to have freedom of religion and speech in America. I don’t feel thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs should be forced on anyone, but I do feel like it IS MORE than okay for every individual to express how they feel, what they believe, and show what they stand for in life.

I do believe the Bible is the Word of God and I don’t think there are any loop holes in the pages. God’s love isn’t gray and SIN is SIN. The Holy Spirit inspired the author of John’s Gospel to write, “the Truth will Set You Free” because Jesus the Messiah said it… Truth is like fire. It needs the wind of our voice to catch or pages to spread across, and the truth is warm to those inside the inner courts of God’s throne room, but a burning furnace to those outside the temple gates.

Real truth can burn and a soul either becomes gold in that honesty furnace or ashes. Repenting from a lifestyle apart from God, and turning towards God leads a soul to life with an eternity filled with gold, but not repenting and staying away from God leads a soul to death and in death a man becomes nothing but dusty ashes.

If you’re a fellow saint who struggles with a desire that grieves the Spirit of God, forget about what the people of the church say, forget about what the world says, and think about you and our beautiful Savior and how amazing His love is and what He meant when He said “It is Finished” on the cross. Your struggle is finished, take that ungodly desire to God and embrace the freedom the Blood of the Messiah purchased for you! I pray you’re free right now, in Jesus’ name. There is no greater name, no greater power.

I’ll be a little transparent…

I grew up in a mostly Christian family. We didn’t always go to church, but we believed in Jesus, the Bible, and God. I would say since I was 6, I had faith in God (still do). Yet, when I was 8 years old, I found myself disgusted with being a girl and I actually formed crushes on girls… not boys. I would have dreams about dating girls my age and looking in the mirror at certain points in the dream and being a boy. This conflicted feeling stayed with me well into my adult years.

When I came to the point where I believed I was meant to be a woman. I started getting dreams about being a lesbian and dating celebrity woman, that I was attracted to in real life. And this was a time in the church where the LBGTQ community was being accepted by branches of Lutheranism, Catholicism, Black Churches, Methodism, etc. I wondered if I could be a lesbian and not practice and become an advocate for the LGBTQ community.

I constantly suffered from anxiety, and I wasn’t fretful of getting sent to hell… I would just get random panic attacks. I would wake up in a cold sweat from night terrors. And I never had any peace feeling like a dark presence was following me.

When I came to the conclusion in my own faith, that homosexuality and changing genders is not biblical and that God could transform me… I got to a point where I cried out to God for deliverance and I got it.

To this day, I have not had same-sex attraction nor have I felt like I was a man. I embrace my womanhood and I’m excited to walk out this life as a woman, a daughter of God.

Much love,

“Without You”

I don’t want to be here

Why do I exist?

For the longest time-

I felt like I was for you

And you were for me

Like we were cosmically meant to be

But now, I can’t talk to you

I don’t deserve you

You’re clearly fine without me

Better even now that you have a savior

I wish I could be like you

I wish I could believe in magic

I wish I could believe in a god

But all I’ve ever known is-

FLUFF

I don’t even know what I know

I wish I could get drunk

I wish I was heartless enough to get high

Without you I feel like I’m drowning

Without you I want to die

Without you I mean nothing

“With You”

Your heartbeat keeps me going

You’re the one good thing in my life

With you, the future is bright

With you, I can weather any fight

It’s crazy how we’ve never met

You don’t even have a personality yet

And when I close my eyes

I dream of your smile

I listen to your possible little voice

Saying, “I love you.”

Hear me, if you can

I love you

I sort of want to wake up tomorrow

I can’t promise I’ll stay with you

But my life looks better with you

So here’s to the next day

Me with you in me 

“Belated Merry Christmas”

Jewel messaged me online today, my last day of Winter Break and asked if we could meet up at Gimmel Park by Brink. The girls missed me and wanted to give me a Christmas gift. She promised the jerk wouldn’t be with them. At first, I was so angry and I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to go because she’s still with the jerk… but I missed Genie and Albany like crazy.

When Netty asked me where I was going, I told her to meet up with Kaylie. Lying to her is getting easier and I’m not sure why… I thought for sure the other night when I yelled at Derek on FaceTime and told him the truth that Netty and Deshuan overheard everything, but they didn’t. The just new I went ballistic and I lost my phone privileges for a few days.

Derek won’t stop calling and texting me, but I just ignore him. I can’t take preachiness from him. I’m used to it from Netty, but not from him.

For the first time, in a long time, I take the bus. An old man gave up his front seat for me. Being pregnant has some advantages.

I forgot how soothing this bus can be. The loud hum of the engine. The warmth the overcrowded-ness brings. Looking out the window, watching the buildings along the road blur together, just peaceful.

The bus driver lowers the bus to make it easier for me to step off. Bussing isn’t so bad. I guess it depends on how you look at things. I could find a million reasons to hate taking the bus, but I could easily find things I like about riding the bus… and even though the good may not out way the bad, the good reasons are better, and have more value than the bad things… This baby must be producing good hormones because I kind of love my life right now.

Jewel sits at be bench by the playground. Genie and Albany are too absorbed in their imaginary world to notice me. Or maybe they do see me, but they’re ignoring me. They rarely ever get to go to the park. The fact that Jewel is with them, at the park, they’re busy making a good memory while it lasts.

Jewel loudly smacks her gum as I take a seat next to her.

“Look at them. If I knew taking them to the park would make them this fluffing happy, I would have done this sniff fluffing forever ago.”

“Yeah…” I’m scared. Like, how quickly will this get sour?

“So ah, you want to come back and live with us? The fluffing jerk is gone. That butthole was stealing from the store and tried to pin it on me… he didn’t get any jail time, but he’s got a record now.”

Jewel’s been stealing from the store since she’s been working there. Did she frame the jerk for me?

“Oh yeah… when did that happen?”

“A few days after you left… I noticed you left your shoes by the door… Your feet okay?”

“Yeah… Netty patched me up really good. She took me to a doctor to make sure I didn’t do any permanent damage.”

“You like it at Nurse Netty’s?” Jewel wonders.

I shrug my shoulders. I’m afraid to admit yes. Staying neutral is safe.

“I quit smoking. I got those nicotine patches and gum. I wish I could afford the pill.”

“Mmm…”

“Yeah, turns out getting burned by a fluffing cigarette hurts like sniff!” Jewel laughs.

I catch the contagion of her laughter and together we crack up uncontrollably. The baby kicks like crazy. I put my hands on my belly and beg the booger to stop.

“What?! SNIFF! You alright?” Jewel says leaning across the bench, holding her hands in front me like she’s about to catch me from falling forward.

“I’m fine. The baby was just kicking…It annoys me.”

“Ah, babies do annoying sniff all the time and there’s nothing you can do really to force them to stop. And if we’re being honest, the annoying things are the cutest things.” Jewel smiles… “When I was seven months pregnant with Genie, any time Mexican music played, she would just go wild in my womb. She had to be fluffing dancing, because now, any time Mexican music is playing-,”

In unison we say, “She dances like crazy.”

Laughing in sync again, Jewel adds, “She’s not even Mexican!”

“We still lived on the Southside, before Bobby lost his house. Remember how, there were always parties going on?”

“O my God! I felt like we were in Mexico… not that I hated it. Maria, in 2431, made a mean margarita!” Jewel covers her mouth trying to force herself to stop laughing.

“Savvy!” Genie screams running towards me.

I lean forward to swoop that little beauty into my arms. I hug her so hard I don’t care if I break her. I smother her ridiculously in kisses. When Albany comes up, I spare an arm to hook her in my clutches too.

“Come home Savvy,” Genie says with her adorable pouty lip, and puppy dog blue eyes.

“Yeah Sav, we miss you.” Albany says.

“It will just be us girls. No jerks. No fluffing men. Just us.” Jewel says.