And Celie?
She’s behind me with the fire extinguisher.
“Yo. But real talk—after sendin’ the rap?
“You sure you still gotta go?”
“Yeah. I need to look him in the eye when I say I wasn't playin' games.
"Then be the one to walk away fromhisass.”
ATTIDS:
(All the things I didn't say.)
I care, okay? I fuckin' care about him.
I gotta be sure he's not mopin', cryin',
broken-hearted, and confused.
I don't want him thinkin' he didn't matter.
I just miss him. Hate him. Miss him anyway.
I'm a fuckin' slut for him.
“Okay, but, is this a smart move?”
Probably not.
“Yeah.
“This time I know what I’m walking into.”
But knowing doesn’t make it easier.
It just makes the pain punctual.
“I’m gonna get my last word in, then I’m out.”
Celie hums, suspicious.
“One question, baby girl.”
I rub my temple. “Shoot.”
She pauses for maximum dramatic effect.
Then: “What the fuck you gonna wear?”
I groan, my head falling back. “Celie.”
“Nah, for real. I’m serious. This is important. You goin’ for‘please don’t hate me’chic? Sad girl in silk? Babe, you need to pick a whole mood. No half-assin’ a your-loss outfit.”
Fucking A?—
it’s like I’m dressin’ for my own heart’s funeral.
