I mean it’s been eight years since we broke up. There is no reason to keep this crap going because whatever feelings are still lingering in our hearts aren’t enough to make whatever relationship we have work.
“I’m not the right person to ask,” I say, chuckling awkwardly. “He’s always working. Even I have a hard time meeting up with him because of it but I’ll tell him about you and Catie as soon as I see him.”
As if, I’m not going to do shit about it.
She grabs my hands and smiles from ear to ear as if I just announced she won the lottery. “Oh dear, aren’t you the sweetest? Thank you so much. I won’t hold you back any longer, I’m sure you’re very busy too.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Turning towards the cart, I grab a box of cereal and throw it inside. Rather than depart as she claimed to, she stays put and a sudden sheepish smile tugs at her lips.
What the hell does she want now?
“You know I’m not usually nosy,” she starts, lowering her voice. “But the rumor has it that you have a young teenager living with you.”
Of course she’d ask about Visha. “Ah, well yes. Why?”
“I was just worried about you in case the rumors were all lies.” She leans in and that sheepish smile morphs into a haughty one. “You don’t mind me asking if he’s yours, do you? I mean it couldn’t possibly be the case. You’re far too young.”
“Does it matter?” I raise my head up high. “Whatever I do in my life is my business. He’s my family and whether he’s my blood or not shouldn’t matter.” I smile but it couldn’t be more fake. “Thank you for your supposed concern but I don’t need it. Good afternoon,Darcy.”
She gasps at the viciousness in my tone as I pronounce her name like a slur. Astonished by not letting her walk all over me like I would have years ago, she stomps away like the old hag she is.
I keep strolling through the store, picking up various items and groaning at the prices.
Fuck Capitalism.
I arrive at the check-out and sense the cashier staring at me as I unload the cart. Ignoring her incessant staring and obvious desire to speak, I pull out my wallet to pay.
“It’ll be eighty-nine dollars and fifty-two cents,” she says, fidgety.
I insert my card in the terminal and sigh at how much I spent again. I begin packing the groceries in my bags when the cashier speaks up. “Uhm, excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you but do you have a girlfriend? If not, could I have your number?”
I gawk at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t have a girlfriend but either way you’re too pretty to be asking me my number.”
A soft rosy blush coats her cheeks, and she looks away. “Is that a no?”
“You should raise your standards and find someone who’ll give you a straight yes,” I say and don’t wait for her to reply as I exit the store.
She’s really pretty, that’s true but I don’t like women which is a shame. Being attracted to men is a drag and a curse. There’s nothing good about men. We’re all unnecessarily complicated and many are literally trash. Besides, guys are rats and that’s an insult to the rats.
I unload the bags into the trunk of my car and push back the cart in its rightful place when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.
Struggling with full hands, I juggle with the cart and keys before finally freeing one hand to pull out the device. “What’s going on?”
“Where are you?”
I massage my temple. “Grocery shopping, I told you earlier.” I walk back to the car and settle down behind the steering wheel. “What’s the matter?”
“When are you coming home,” Visha retorts, ignoring my question.
This habit he has to answer a question with a question absolutely infuriates me. Just answer the question!
“If you’re not dying, stop calling me for no reason.”
“Answer me.”
“Now,” I oblige. “I’ll be home in a bit. Did you start a fire in the kitchen or what?”
