I’m Jasmine Mujahid. I married the love of my life, Faheem. Faheem is considered the big daddy of the crew. You know, the level headed one, the one who keeps everyone on point. For example, when we lived in Jersey, everybody would call him for advice. Now don’t get me wrong, we had our share of drama. Everyone recalls and still talks about how I wouldn’t get with Faheem for the longest time. And I wouldn’t. Hell, no. Not as long as he was in the game. So he eventually gets out and then he later discovers that I, Miss ‘don’t want to fuck with a drug dealer’ Jaz, had my hands dirty cooking meth for the white boys. Man! You would have thought that I murdered the president! His family was mad and he was that much madder, more like … mad amplified by ten. I was called every hypocrite in the book. But to me I wasn’t in the game … well not like he was. I wasn’t flippin’ birds or nothing like that. I would cook, get paid and keep it moving. Them white boys loved me. But then it all came tumbling down. Faheem would have never found out if I hadn’t gotten busted in a meth lab, and he had to get me a lawyer, bail me out, make a witness disappear, the whole nine. All the shit you see in the movies. And to this day, I don’t know what was worst—getting busted by the Feds or by Faheem. Thanks to Faheem, except for a couple of days in a holding facility, my ass walked.
To keep some of the heat off me, I had to remind him that he was no angel either. It wasn’t as if he just quit hustling in one day. Hell no. That nigga hustled and stacked and hustled and stacked until he was ready
to get out. It just so happened that I waited for him. I did my best not to give him that impression, but hell yeah, I waited. I wanted to be with him.
Anyways, that was then and we got through that and Faheem is still the love of my life. We’ve been happily married for almost five years and we have a seven year old daughter named Kaeerah Aaliyah. I was the first one in the crew to get pregnant. Then it was Kyra, Tasha and finally Angel. Me and Faheem relocated to Georgia where I enrolled at Spelman. School is kicking my ass as usual, but Faheem keeps pushing me, and seems more determined than me that I finish. I think he just likes me out of the house so he can milk the stay-at-home dad role. Yes, he takes the daddy role very seriously. He has Kaeerah on a rigid schedule. She goes to dance class, takes piano lessons and is on her school’s soccer team. He makes sure she stays involved in something all year round. I’m not surprised though, as bad as he wanted me to get pregnant, I knew that he would be a good father.
But our shit took a turn for the worse on the Saturday morning that Faheem wanted to go to ghetto-ass South DeKalb Mall to check out his boy Jabree. Jabree just recently opened up a clothing store. He’s from Jersey and also relocated to the ATL. We were chillin’, strolling through the mall, mostly window shopping. I was munching on an almond pretzel from Auntie Anne’s, and Kaeerah was begging her daddy to buy her everything she saw, when this little boy runs right pass us almost knocking Kaeerah over. I was getting ready to snatch his ass up but Faheem beat me to it. FAHEEM
“Daddy, that little boy kicked me,” Kaeerah whined.
“Lil’ man. You gotta slow down. You can’t be running and stepping on the ladies.” Lil’ man didn’t say anything. Why was he by himself?
I wondered. I looked around to see if someone may have been looking for him but there was no one in sight. So I walked over to him and kneeled down in front of him. The more I looked at him the more he reminded me of someone.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said as he looked at Kaeerah and apologized.
“It’s cool. Are you lost?” I asked him.
“Yes, I don’t see my mommy,” he responded with a low voice. I guess he knew that mama was going to beat that ass when she found him.
Then I heard a woman yelling out, “Faheem. Oh my God where is he? Faheem.” I rose to my feet, turned around, and was face to face with Oni … my ex. And from the look on her face you would have thought that she saw a ghost. She reached out and grabbed lil’ man’s hand and put him behind her which said it all.
“So you named your son after me?” I asked with a smug grin.
She returned the same grin and then said with sarcasm dripping from her voice. “No I named your son
Faheem.” She then turned to walk away. I reached out and grabbed her by her shoulder, stopping her dead in her tracks.
“Come again. Did you say my son
?” I was confused and was sure that this bitch was fuckin’ with me.
Oni turned around and said, “Yes, Faheem. If you weren’t being such a fucked up, self-centered person maybe you would have tried to find out.” This bitch had the audacity to knock my hand off her shoulder.
“Fuck you mean, ‘find out’? You was supposed to tell me!”
“Faheem, why don’t you do what you do best, leave.” JAZ
Faheem? Faheem is not a common name. I looked at the little boy and my mouth hit the floor. And recognizing Oni it was obvious that I was seeing exactly what Faheem was seeing.
And before I knew it Faheem had his hands around her neck and was trying to choke her to death. Thank God we were in the hood, because instead of getting a whole bunch of white people screaming, the hood niggas simply gathered around and enjoyed the spectacle. The security guards came and managed to pull Faheem off of her. Little Faheem was crying while Kaeerah was holding on to me for dear life. She didn’t know what was going on. I was only praying that the mall cops wouldn’t try to play ‘captain save a ho’ because Faheem was seeing fire and I knew that he was packin’ a burner.
“Nigga, if you don’t get your fuckin’ hands off of me,” Faheem threatened the rent-a-cop.
Thank God the rent-a-cop was a little shook. He let Faheem go and turned his attention to Oni, “Ma’am, are you okay? Do you want to press charges?” The mall cop asked as two other ones ran over.
Faheem was towering over her yelling, “Oni, how could you fuckin’ do this? What the fuck is the matter with you?” he spat.
Like a bitch with some sense, she got the fuck away from a crazed Faheem and came over to where I was. “Here.” She handed me her business card. Then she looked at Faheem and said, “When you calm down, call me.”
“Call you? Bitch … call you? Calm … down?” Faheem was starting to stutter, which meant that shit was getting ready to get ugly … again.
Sure enough, no sooner than I thought it, he lunged for her ass again. She ducked, grabbed little Faheem and the bitch took off running. We both stood there looking at the little replica of Faheem. The same little boy who was the spittin’ image of our daughter. I was at a loss for words. FAHEEM
I took off my NY fitted and wiped the sweat off my forehead. A big nigga like me was actually feeling dizzy. Niggas were gathered around me as if I was a circus animal or some shit. I started walking and the people parted as if I was Moses and they were the Red Sea. There was no doubt in my mind that lil’ man was my seed. My son.
And here this bitch done robbed me of the most important years of his life. The years that I, the father, was supposed to do the molding and shaping. I should have snapped that bitch’s neck right there on the spot.
Oni and I kicked it off and on back in Jersey. Mostly when me and Jaz were fighting. Those other broads were too jealous and would come at me with all the bullshit that a real hustler didn’t have the time or the patience for. They couldn’t grasp that I just needed a jump-off for the moment. Oni understood and accepted that Jaz was wifey and a dog would always find his way home. That’s the only reason I would always fuck with her. She knew her position and played it well.
From looking at my son … damn did I just say that? My son?
He looks to be the same age as Kaeerah. This shit is crazy. That means that her and Jaz must have gotten pregnant at the same time. But why would she keep it from me? Most chicks would use that as leverage. But she just ups and disappears. Oh, this bitch is
going to pay for this shit. ONI
I first spotted him
and Jaz strolling through the food court. At first I was telling myself, that couldn’t be.
I kept staring and following behind them. I was so focused on them that little Faheem took off running. When I finally realized that he was out of my sight, that’s when I slipped up and called out his name and I knew, right then and there I was busted.
“Girl, what is the matter with you? Why are you crying? What happened? Are you and Faheem okay?” My mother Marie was obviously ready to call the police.
“No, Ma. I mean, we are fine.” I made a feeble attempt to calm her down.
“Then why are you crying?”
“I just saw him
My mother was quiet. But I knew she was trying to find the right way to say, I told you so!
So, I waited patiently.
“Oni, I tried to tell you that one day whether it would be five, ten, fifteen years from now, a child always finds the way to their parents soul.” Here she goes with that tribal shit
. I thought to myself.