Isis knew that a girl named Chesteria was my ex—nothing more. Hell, I think she knew just how much I still loved her; that’s why she tried so hard to prove she could be enough, or maybe to see if she could make me forget her. The only reason Isis even knew about the trip was because I slipped up and mentioned it one night after a long flight. Next thing I knew, she was begging, wearing that sad little expression kids gets when the ice cream truck pulls up. I was too tired to argue, and it wasn’t like I would be spending actualChristmaswith her, so I told her she could come. AndmaybeI agreed because, for some reason, I didn’t want to be alone up there that time of the year. Usually, I had no problem spending a few quiet days at the cabin by myself, but that month hit different.
So yeah, I told Isis she could tag along, but not to try to become anything more than what we were, because that shit wasnevergonna happen. I wasn’t looking to build anything new; I was still walking around with pieces of my old life lodged in my chest, jagged and unmoving, and there was no room for anything else. So I truly hoped Isis took heed to my words and didn’t go into it thinking it meant more than what it was, because it didn’t… at least not for me.
Truth was, I wanted Chesteria back. I actually planned to talk to her—for the first time in two years—after the trip, though, since I knew that time of the year was rough for her too.
Moments later, my homie Davion’s voice blasted through the phone the second I answered.
“Frost, what you got going, my boy?”
“Shit, bro… just landed. I’m ‘bout to head to the crib, shower, and crash for a few hours. I gotta get back up around nine to start packing.”
“Right… for yo’romantic getaway,” he clowned.
“Fuck you, nigga,” I laughed. “Ain’t shit romantic about this trip.”
Davion scoffed. “Nigga, you taking awomanto the mountains; that’s romance in every hood love story ever made.”
I shook my head. “Yeah… well, this ain’t no damn movie. I’m trying to relax, not propose.”
“The same girl still going with you, right? What’s her name? Isis?”
“Unfortunately,” I replied, chewing on my bottom lip.
“Unfortunately? Nigga, you saying that like you can’t tell her ass no or like she got some ownership in that muthafucka. That’syo’shit. It ain’t like she’ll know which side of the mountain the driveway on, anyway.”
I massaged my temple. “Bro, real shit, if I tell this girl no, I’m afraid she might fall into a full depressive episode… like lights-off, curtains-closed, sad playlist on repeat. She been planning this shit like it’s her last damn vacation. Talkin’ ‘bout matching sweaters and a couple photos. She read into everything as a sign of commitment. When we were fucking one time, I said ‘damn’ one time, and she hit me with that soft voice like I just confessed my love.”
“Damn. I still can’t believe you taking shorty there like that, ain’t Chesteria’s territory.”
I looked out the cockpit window, calm as ever. “It’s mine too, nigga.”
“Yeah, but Chesteria built that damn kitchen. She picked that furniture, chose them soft-ass blankets you pretend you don’t like,but I do, and hung up that little corny-ass ‘Home Is Where the Heart Is’ sign.”
I chuckled. “It ain’t corny, nigga. And if I ever talk to her again, I’ma tell her you said that.”
“Don’t do that, bro. You know I love Chesteria like a sister. Hell, I’m still rooting for y’all to get back together. But see, if sheever found out I said that, she’d probably ban me from the cabin, and you know I ain’t trying to lose my summertime ho’ spot. It got good lighting for lies and great scenery for manipulation. I light a bonfire, play Usher, and pretend I’m emotionally available! It’s a whole experience.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
Everybody’s got that one wild, reckless, funny-ass friend—Davion was mine. That nigga fit all three descriptions like it was a job requirement.
“Real talk, though,” he continued, “you know everything about that damn cabin screams ‘in love.’ Not ‘let’s see where this goes with that Isis chick.”
“You damn right about that last part, because it ain’teventhat serious with me and shawty.”
“That’s the damn problem; you ain’t serious about nobody but one woman, and she ain’t the one going with you.”
I didn’t respond.
I rubbed my thumb over the faint scar on my hand. Davion didn’t know the meaning of it, but Chesteria did.
I got it the night she slipped on the icy porch steps. I grabbed her so fast I sliced my hand on the railing. She cried harder than I did, kept apologizing, and kissed it like she could fix it. That scar stayed… so did she… in my memory, anyway.
And for a brief second, I saw her sitting on the cabin porch in her big sweater, hair in a puff, and cheeks pink from the cold as she laughed at something I said.
Davion’s voice cut in, sighing on the other end. “Look, man… I get it. The holidays hit you different. But you sure you wanna go up withher? You know I don’t mind riding with you, but if I go, I gotta bring one of my hoes, and you know they loud, bro. One of ‘em breathe heavy, and the other one talk like she on a podcast 24/7.”
“Nigga, I need some quietness,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
