“Knew what?”
“That you’d make a good mother. That you’d be better at it than yours was.”
I almost laugh, then my chest tightens.
“Have you given any thought to it?”
“Of course,” I lie. “But I think I just wanna enjoy my husband for a while before we start talking about a family.”
There’s a long, silent pause.
“How long is a while?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I lie again. Because I absolutely do know. Ineverwanna have a kid. I’m not pushing out a fucking crotch goblin that will make me fat and tired and irritated. It’s enough keeping myself alive. I don’t need another human to look after.
He sighs, disappointed with that answer. I almost feel bad, but that’s the thing men don’t understand. We do all of the fucking work. We take all of the fucking risk. White women ate withmy body, my choice. Or maybe black women ate with that, and theystole it and vomited it up. Either way, the statement goes hard. I get to decide, and the answer is a resounding fuckingno.
But I say, “One day,” because you have to dangle the carrot. “I promise.”
He nods, and I can tell by his pinched expression that the conversation isn’t over. He just put a mental bookmark on it.
“Speaking of…you done obsessing over that little girl and her family?”
I squeeze his hand. “Yep. We did what needed to be done.”
And I put a mental bookmark onthat.
At home, while Ace is in the shower, I hop on live to do a beat. I’m feeling triumphant this evening, so I do a bold look—burgundy lip, dramatic wing, heavy contour. The second the ring light clicks on, everything feels familiar and comforting. My voice slips into its practiced cadence. The chat starts rolling.
“Went to a birthday party today,” I say softly as I dot powder under my eyes. “One of my husband’s friends.”
Swernjpj21 - I still get a charge when you say ‘my husband’
Adef90sw - me tooooo
Loijweor - when do we get to see this alleged husband
I chuckle at that. “Anyway, I met a couple of girls. They were actually nice to me.”
I contour my left side, then my right. “I never wanted to be the kind of silly bitch who says she doesn’t have female friends, but honestly, I don’t. Not because I don’t want them, just…never really had the chance, I guess.”
As I’m lining my lips, the office door bursts open and there’s my alleged husband, shirtless and smelling like soap.
“Oh, my bad. I ain’t know you were recording,” he says as he backs out. “I’m going to bed.”
But it’s too late. He’s already been seen.
kitty66- omg is that your husband
1lemur - aaaaaaaaaace!
K;opkmer - make him say hi to us
ZZ7mq3wer - damn bitch he fine af
Qwerk4 - ok now I understand the crashouts
“Wait,” I say, laughing softly. “It’s okay. You can come in. The chat likes you.”
