Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,40

knee.

“You are fucking insane,” she scoffed. “What the hell?”

“Are you finished?” I asked.

“No, I’m not fucking finished,” She demanded. “Get up.”

“Can’t do that until you finish.”

“Fine, I’m finished.” Sheryl slammed her hands on her hips.

“I agree with you,” I began. “The way we had it going would not work. If I’m saying it right, I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to have the cow to get the milk for free. I do want a child, as I’ve mentioned, but the other thing is – I want more. With you. It makes sense, and I’m not sure why I didn’t see it before. I want to give us a try. Well, we have been, this entire time, but my mind hadn’t been wrapped around it. I’m down here because I want you to give us a try. A solid try. From the beginning I knew what I wanted, Sheryl. That was you before and after the baby.”

That look was back on her face. The one where her mouth was open and eyes wide. No words were spoken, though, as I continued to kneel on one knee.

“What are you asking me?” She finally spoke.

“Asking if you would give us a try,” I repeated.

“Why are you on bended knee?” she asked.

“Because it’s a proposal.” This time she folded her arms in front of her.

“A proposal of what?”

Here was the moment of truth. Did I risk losing her permanently or overplay my hand?

Fuck it.

“First for you to give me a chance. Then a proposal for you to accept my hand in marriage. Then for you to have our baby. Then for you to live happily ever after.”

This time she laughed as if I had said something funny. Did she find this humorous?

“I’m serious,” I confirmed to combat her jovial vibe.

“Oh, I know,” Sheryl was still laughing “I can’t keep up, Jacquez. One minute it’s this, another minute, it’s that. I don’t think you really know what you want. It sure as hell ain’t me. You want a baby, sure, but this…I mean, I feel like we are always wrong.”

Always wrong?

My mind began to go back to our first encounter, the sex, her leaving, the baby, the loss of the baby, the back and forth. Consistently and all the time. Hell, I was on one knee and she was still turning me down. Was it right?

What was I missing?

“Sheryl.” I sighed and for the first time, just took a moment to breathe. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing is not tying the both of us down, so you say.” She walked over to me and held out her hand. “The right thing, Jacquez, may be to just let it be. Hell, this is fucking stressful. Will you get up?”

Looking at the hand that she was extending to me, I scoffed, took it, and stood up. The two of us just stared at each other for what felt like eternity.

It was entirely too long, but it was as if we were stuck.

That notion of always wrong kept running through my head.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“I was just going to ask you the same question” was my reply.

Chapter Thirteen

Sheryl South

The process for getting a paternity test was so sterile. It was as if the person that was taking my blood did not know the significance of what she was doing. This was no ordinary blood test. This was my future in the hands of someone who seemed to be waiting on getting her lunch break.

“All done,” she announced as if I was in a rush.

I was not.

She gave me some orange slices and then labeled the vials and placed them in a plastic casing with more vials. My name, clearly written in bold Arial font. The deadbeat had actually agreed to take the test, probably to absolve himself of guilt. The man was never there, and he lived one county over from where I grew up. He knew my mother wasn’t well, and I guess he made a decision not to mess with her or us for that matter. It wasn’t like a one-night stand. He had three kids by her, so this was a relationship of sorts. Either way, I decided to take whatever was happening with a new lease on life.

Honestly, it was in thinking and the coordination of having a baby. One of the rules I had for business is to never make rush decisions. If it required me to make an instant decision, then I