Friends Are Foes 2

By: Natalie Sade

I went to my supervisor to tell him that my daughter had been rushed to the hospital after fainting at school. He allowed me to leave, and I couldn’t be happier. I was going to check on Jada and then head home. Jada needed to stay with my mother for a while anyway. We were too much alike, and that little bitch ain’t about to make me catch a case.

When I made it to the hospital they were still waiting.

“How long y’all been out here?” I asked my mother.

“Two damn hours,” she told me.

“You know they take forever. I’m about to go,” I said. I rolled my eyes and flopped down in the chair.

“You just got here,” she said.

“And I have three other kids that I have to get to,” I told her.

“You got a unemployed boyfriend staying there, he can’t get ‘em?”

“Jada Lewis,” the nurse called. We all stood and followed her to a room. “I’m just going to take a little blood from you,” she told Jada.

“Do you know how long this will take?” I asked.

“Not long,” she said and smiled.

“So you’re going to take the blood and then what?” I asked.

“And then test it,” she said with a smile. This time she looked annoyed.

“I’m asking because I have three kids at home that I need to get to,” I told her, working my neck.

“So go,” Jada said. “Granny got me.” I wanted to knock her damn head off her shoulders.

“Jada, please don’t get fucked up.” I said after the nurse left the room.

“You’ve been here ten minutes, and you’re already complaining. School ain’t even out yet. You just don’t want to be here. So leave,” she told me. She wasn’t being a smart ass. Honestly, I could tell by her tone that she was hurt.

“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have came.” I said and took a seat. She made me feel bad. I decided to chill out. An hour later the doctor came in. He had a stern look on his face. Lord, please don’t let my baby have cancer, I prayed.

“There is no easy way to say this,” he began. “Jada is pregnant.” He announced. I sat there staring at him, with my mouth wide open. I didn’t know what to say. Yes, Jada had a smart mouth, and yes she was sassy. But I never thought she was having sex. She never mentioned boys. I hadn’t caught her on the phone with one. I never caught her outside talking or flirting.

“Pregnant,” my mother gasped. This shit was all her fault. She had Jada for the past three years. Why in the hell would I trust her with my baby, hell, I got pregnant at 15 on her watch. But Jada knew better. I always told her how hard it was to be a young mother. She could have come to me. The more I thought about it, the more pissed I became.

“You little bitch,” I said and lunged at her. The doctor grabbed me before I could make contact.

“You need to calm down.” He fumed.

“Pregnant, Jada? Are you fucking serious?” She sat there with her head down crying. “By who, Jada?” I screamed. She didn’t respond.

“Someone from Child Protective Services will be in to speak with you,” he said trying to make his exit.

“CPS? For what?” I asked.

“Because your 13-year-old daughter is pregnant,” he said appalled. He looked at me like I was clueless. I completely understood what was going on with my daughter.

“It’s not my damn fault. I didn’t even know she was fuckin’,” I told him.

“Maybe you should pay closer attention,” he said and left the room. He was lucky he did. I couldn’t take all these muthafuckas implying that I was an unfit mother.

“I’m not going to jail behind you. You getting that muthafucka sucked out of you. I can guarantee you that,” I hissed and left the hospital. That shit was on them. My mother had raised her. Hell, I just let her move back in with me. I was doing well, and I wasn’t about to let them pull me down.

My mother called me the next day and told me we had to go talk to Child Protective Services. If I didn’t make it to the meeting, I could go to jail. I met them at my mother’s house so that we could all go together.

“I called and made an appointment for the abortion,” I told my mother. Jada was sitting at the kitchen table with us, but I didn’t have shit to say to her.

“I don’t want to,” she mumbled.

“You don’t want to what?” I asked.

“Kill my baby,” she said. I slapped her; she tried that same shit again, where she stared me in the eyes. I slapped her two more times, and if my mother didn’t jump in, I would have kept going.

“Bitch, are you crazy? You gon’ take her into the CPS office with bruises on her?” she fussed.

“If you ever in yo’ fuckin’ life say that shit again, I will kill you. Do you hear me?” I said gripping her chin.


We had been talking to the social worker for about fifteen minutes, and it was getting worse and worse. She was looking at me like I was the culprit. She was asking me questions that I knew she should be asking Jada. Her fass ass was the one fucking.

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