Imani All Mine by Connie Rose Porter

them.
    I ain’t want to believe her. I told Mama I’m going to call the pediatrician. Maybe he’d let me bring her by real quick and I could make it to school by lunchtime.
    Mama say, Stop being a hardhead and listen to me. The doctor won’t let you bring her in with the chicken pox. Call him if you don’t believe me.
    I was going to call the doctor, but I knew that would make Mama mad. Anyway, I was thinking she might be right.
    I had to stay home from school for the next week and a half, worrying about what Mr. Toliver was thinking of me. I called up to the school for him every day for the first week. Them secretaries nem maybe never give him my message. But I told them to tell him I done my work. He ain’t never call me back. I know that each day he was driving
his
car to
his
house and looking at
his
degree on his wall, and not even stutting me. He was probably thinking I’m not serious. I ended up calling this girl I hardly even know that’s in all my classes, and got her to give me the assignments I was missing. That would show Mr. Toliver I wasn’t no belle trying to dance my way through life. I ain’t even know how he could think that about me, with me having a baby. But I knew he was thinking it. There wasn’t no telling what my other teachers was thinking, even while I was trying to keep up. While I was home with Imani, who was looking worse every day.
    Them bumps was popping up everywhere on her. Even in her mouth. In her head. We wasn’t going to no party at no Party Time Pizza. I rubbed Imani down with calamine lotion that Mama bring home to me when she went on one of her dates. I bit off her nails to keep her from scratching. But Imani kept on scratching. My baby looked like a monster. She ain’t do nothing but whine whine whine. Scratch and scratch and cry and squeal like a little pig.
    I know I was going crazy, because I almost ask Mama to keep Imani for me so I could go on back to school. Just for a day. I almost begged her to when it was starting on the second week. I want to see Mr. Toliver to explain myself. But I couldn’t get out the words to even ask Mama.
    I know that’s why I shook my baby the way I did. Because I was feeling like I was some kind of prisoner to her and I can’t never get away. I can’t even fart without Imani smelling it. She always be with me. Always. So I shook her right on that day we was supposed to be going to that birthday party. When we was supposed to be having pizza with the other girls and babies. When I looked at Imani, I got to thinking about her birthday. How when it come I’m supposed to remember what a sweet day it was when I had her, and nothing about him. About how I love her.
    I grabbed Imani right out her crib and shook her the way Mrs. Poole shook the baby doll. Because she was whining and I couldn’t take it no more. Not one more second. Her head flopped just like that doll.
    Shut up, I say to her. I want to scream. But I ain’t scream, because I ain’t want Mama to hear me. I say it in a mean whisper. You make me sick! You messed up everything! Just shut up and leave me alone.
    I was still shaking her when I seen her face all smeared in lotion. She was looking at me like she scared of me. Like she ain’t know me. I stopped shaking her. Imani was quiet, just like I told her to be. Then she bust out crying, and I thought my heart would fall right out of me. I wanted to run out that room and take me a time-out. Mrs. Poole say if your baby giving you stress and ain’t old enough for a time-out, you take a time-out.
    But Imani ain’t want me to go. She grabbed hold of me real tight to love her. To hold her near my heart. Even after what I done. I felt like a real dog. Like some bitch that ain’t even have a right to have a baby so sweet. I was glad she was so close to me so I ain’t have to look at her face. I ain’t even know how to say to her how sorry I was in