Material Girl 2: Labels and Love by Keisha Ervin Page A

prostitution whore and said that she didn’t like me, that I was a rebound, and that you weren’t really going to marry me.”
    “Word?” Angel asked furiously.
    “Yes,” Milania wailed.
    “Hold up,” Angel released her from his hold and dialed Dylan’s number.
    She answered on the first ring.
    “I was just about to call you,” she said taking off her black peacoat.
    “Yo’, when you met up wit’ Milania, did you call her a prostitution whore?”
    “I sure as hell did.”
    “I thought the whole point of y’all gettin’ together was so y’all could try to get along?”
    “Umm, it was, but—”
    “But nothin’,” Angel shouted, furious. “That shit wasn’t necessary.”
    “Hold up,” Dylan’s upper lip curled. “Who in the hell do you think you’re talkin’ to? She’s the one that came to lunch wit’ an ole aggressive-ass attitude, actin’ all high saddity like I owed her something!” she yelled into the phone, snapping her neck.
    “Yo’, you can go head wit’ all that neck poppin’ and lip smackin’ you doing,” Angel barked, knowing her all too well. “All I was tryin’ to do is get both of you on the same page for the sake of this baby, but you can’t even be adult enough to do that.”
    “You know what? I ain’t got time for this BS,” Dylan scoffed. “You gon’ sit up here and chastise me like I’m a fuckin’ child over a bitch you’ve known five seconds! She’s the one who came at me crazy, and you damn right I called her a prostitution whore, a skank, and a bitch too! Fuck her and fuck you! Now get the fuck off my line!” she snapped, mashing the end button on her cell phone.
    “Stupid bitch make me sick. I wish I wasn’t pregnant so I wouldn’t have to deal wit’ her ass or him.” Dylan shook her head trying her best not to cry but a bucketful of tears had already begun to spill down her cheeks.
    Seeing her in tears, Fuck’em Gurl ran over to Dylan and stood on her hind legs so she would pick her up, but Dylan wasn’t in the mood, so she ignored her.
    “I can’t believe that he would even have the audacity to believe her word over mine. I just wish this shit would be over already,” she sniffed, wiping her nose. “I can’t take this shit anymore.” She held her head back and cried.
    Everything seemed to be falling down around her at once. Her business was failing miserably, therefore affecting her livelihood. Disconnect notices swarmed her mailbox daily. Hell, Dylan didn’t even have health insurance. Every time she visited the doctor, she paid out of pocket, and she’d be damned if she’d ask Angel for a dime with the way he was acting.
    And sure, Tee-Tee or Billie would gladly give her a loan, but Dylan couldn’t bear looking like a failure to them once again. That, coupled along with how she would provide for a child she wasn’t even sure she wanted and a baby father who she loved more than life itself who was acting like a goddamn fool was too much to handle.
    If Dylan could, she would gladly fall asleep and never wake up again. But just when death became the best solution to her problems, a sharp pain raced throughout her lower stomach. Writhing in pain, Dylan slowly made her way over to the bed to call 911. It felt like she was having the worst menstrual cramp anyone could experience in life, and with each second that passed the feeling got worse.
    Oh God, please help me, Dylan said, doubled over in agony as she felt a warm sensation slide down her leg. She couldn’t handle the realization that she might lose the baby. Yes, for months she’d secretly loathed the baby, but now she felt nothing but worry and regret.
     
     
    An hour later, Dylan lay nervously in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm and a heart monitor on her belly awaiting the emergency room doctor’s return. A million and one thoughts ran through her mind, like, what if the baby had died or if it were still alive, would it have brain damage or Down syndrome. Deciding the