1 Jermaine's Day Jermaine Banks sat on the side of the bathtub as his three-year-old-son, Khalil, played in the sudsy water with a green-and-white plastic boat. The boat was one of the few toys that remained from Jermaine's own childhood. Khalil loved it and wouldn't take a bath without it. As Jermaine watched his child's carefree smile, he felt uneasy. He knew that, in order to keep that smile on his son's face, he was going to have to make some drastic changes in his life. But how? He was almost thirty years old with only a high school education and absolutely no work experience. Just as he got lost in his thoughts he looked up to see his pregnant girlfriend, Erin, in the doorway. "Are you guys almost done?" Erin whined, crossing her arms.
"We just got in, Erin. Give us a minute," Jermaine said, shaking his head. That girl wants everything on her time, he thought. "I'm just checking, no need for the attitude," Erin said as she turned and stomped down the stairs to the living room. Jermaine shook his head again and went back to washing his son. For the most part he loved Erin and she was a good woman. She had her ways, but who didn't? They had been together through a lot of thick and thin. Even when Jermaine had stepped out on her and got Khalil's mother, Amani, pregnant while Erin was completing her undergraduate work at Morgan State University down in Baltimore.
But then again, that forgiveness had come with a price, and now that Jermaine was trying to take a more active role in Khalil's life, he was starting to notice that Erin was pretty ambivalent about her feelings toward his son. Sometimes she went overboard, trying to act as if Khalil were her best friend, like making sure he had a bedroom at her place, but whenever she was upset with Jermaine, her true feelings about Khalil surfaced. The last few months had been pretty stressful for both of them: Erin getting used to the idea of being a real mom and Jermaine with the burden of becoming a daddy for the second time with no real plans for his future. Rightfully so, Jermaine seemed to be getting it the worst; it seemed as if every day someone was on his case about getting a real job and leaving his hustling days behind him. But just the thought of wearing one of those fast-food uniforms turned Jermaine's stomach. As far as he was concerned, those kinds of jobs were for high school kids and grown-up losers. Plus, he didn't see anything wrong with his current "job"-selling weed. As a matter of fact, he felt like he was doing Philadelphians a favor by providing a natural herb that helped folks calm the hell down.
"Jermaine. Jermaine," Khalil called out, with his arms outstretched toward his father. "What's up, lil guy?" "I'm ready to get out of the bathtub." "Okay." Jermaine pulled the stopper and lifted his son onto the toilet seat. He toweled him dry, rubbed lotion all over his already soft skin, and helped him into his favorite Superman pajamas. The kind with the feet attached. "You're all set, my man.
" "Will you sleep with me?" "You scared?" "Yep," Khalil said with no shame. "Man, how you gonna be a tough guy all day and a big baby at night?" "I am tough." Khalil flexed his muscles for his father to examine. "But I still want you to sleep with me. Please." Khalil smiled. Jermaine smiled too. He placed his hands on both sides of Khalil's face and looked down at his son.
Khalil looked like a miniature version of himself. They shared the same caramel complexion and the same big brown eyes. Khalil even wore his hair in cornrow braids like his father. As Jermaine stared into his child's eyes, he wondered if he had what it took to raise Khalil the way he deserved to be reared. An overwhelming fear came over him. Nothing else on God's green earth scared him like letting his son down. "Yeah, I guess I can lay down with you for a minute. But you know what? I want you to stop calling me Jermaine and call me Daddy.
Is that a'ight with you?" "Yep," Khalil said, unaware of the powerful responsibility the word carried for his father. Jermaine turned around and let Khalil jump on his back. He walked with him into his bedroom and laid him down on his bed. "Jermaine, I mean Daddy. Miss Erin said I need to say my prayers." "And Miss Erin is right. Let's do it." They both got down on their knees and thanked God for his blessings.
Once they were done, Jermaine lay down beside his son, and before a good five minutes were up, Khalil was snoring. Jermaine eased out of the bed and made the dreaded trip downstairs to have the same old tired conversation with Erin. "So is he off to sleep?" Erin asked as she reached for the remote control to turn the television off. "Sure is," Jermaine said, plopping down in the love seat across from her. "And I wish I could join him." Jermaine sighed, rubbing his temples. "You can join him but you're going to have to face the truth about yourself one day, Jermaine." "What truth?" Jermaine asked wearily.
"I already know the truth about me, Erin. I live it every day. But what I don't need is for you to sit around all day figuring out ways to judge me." "Nobody's judging you. But you need to get it together because we are having a baby and I'm not about to let you have my child around your drug-dealing friends while I'm at work. Now, you've let it be known that I can't tell you what to do when it comes to Khalil, but that line won't fly when the baby gets here because this child will be my responsibility." "Baby, baby, baby. That's all you ever talk about.
That and me turning into some kind of nerd. This pregnancy is still suspect." "Suspect? What is that suppose to mean?" "All of a sudden Erin just has to have a baby. For the life of me I can't understand why you feel like you need to compete with Amani." "Compete with Amani?" Erin frowned. "Please! Trust me when I say that hood rat is no competition for me." "Look at you. Always putting yourself up on some pedestal.
If you were as high and mighty as you think you are, you wouldn't be trying to trap me with a baby." Erin started laughing. Laughing so hard she had to hold her side. "You must've fell and bumped your head. Jermaine, what is there about you that would make me want to trap you? You don't have a job. You got major baby-momma drama and there's a new police report out on you every month. Please! Now you need to come down off of your pedestal. If there's anybody that should be doing the trapping it's you.
" "You crazy! Your family's got you thinking you're some kind of prize." "Here we go," Erin said, huffing, leaning back against the sofa with her arms crossed. "That's right, here we go. You didn't have a problem with where my money was coming from when it was paying for those expensive books that you needed for your bachelor's and your master's, which you only got so your mother could brag to her corny-ass friends, but that's another subject." "Leave my mother out of this," Erin shot back. "Whatever," Jermaine said, knowing how sensitive Erin was about her family. "Let's talk about that new car that you had to have, that brand-new Acura TL that my dirty money paid for, or what about when that dirty money paid your rent and all your other bills for two whole years so you could concentrate on school? But now you're straight and I'm the bad guy." "I never told you or encouraged you to sell one dime bag.
As a matter of fact, I begged you to stop and get a real job." "Yeah, after you got everything you needed. Damn hypocrite!" "That still doesn't change the fact that you need a job. And I can do without the name-calling." "What kind of job do you want me to get? You want me to throw on a suit and tie and head down to Center City and walk up in one of those high-rises? Maybe then I'll be good enough for you, huh? You don't have a problem spending my dough but you got a problem with where it comes from." "You know what, Jermaine? You are right. I didn't always have a problem with how you made your money, but I've grown up and you haven't. When are you going to grow up? You're still doing the same things you did when we were in high school.
The only difference is you went from misdemeanors to felonies." "So now I gotta operate on your schedule?" "Just get a life," Erin said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She pushed the button on the remote control, letting Jermaine know that their conversation was over. "You self-centered, arrogant bitch," Jermaine growled. Erin.