He puts a hand over his heart in relief. “Okay, cuz I think you know I’d have to make some calls and we’d all gather round and beat yo ass.”
“Nothing like that. I…youreallycan’t tell nobodythispart. I got her pregnant.”
“Aww man, congratulations!” His genuine smile makes me feel bad for what I say next.
“Thanks, but I did it…against her will. I fucked with her pills.”
“What the fuck, Ace?”
“I had my reasons.”
He shakes his head. “How doesshefeel about it?”
“She was pissed, but then…that’s what I’m saying, T. We do shit, we doawfulshit to each other, and then we get over it. It’s almost like a game. It’s almost like some kinda twisted fucking foreplay.”
He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. This nigga said kissing and eating pussy got boring so let me go back to the 1800s and breed my bitch ‘til my dick gets hard.”
“I know. I know. It’s fucked up.”
“I mean…but if it works, who’s to say? Most people got shit goin’ on in their relationship that they don’t tell nobody.”
I incline my head.
“Okay, so, we know what you want. Next question; are you happy?”
“Honestly? Yeah. I am.”
“That’s your answer, then. Right?”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes.
Wifey
My brother passed
And suddenly, the last five minutes seem small and far away.
40
Raya
My ears pop hard as our plane descends through a thick quilt of grey clouds. They’re laying heavy over New York, and they match my mood.
Ace has his hand on my thigh. It feels like he’s anchoring me. I’m grateful for that, because these last few days have been almost unbearable. I don’t feel present in my own body. I’ve been floating overhead, watching myself suffer. And I don’t even think all of it is grief. I think it’s confusion.
I felt nothing when Daddy died. Well, relief is something, and I definitely felt that. I wasn’t confused at all. I went to his funeral because it was customary, not because I gave a fuck.
With Rashad…it’s a lot more complicated. And now, I’ll never be able to work those feelings out.
“You good?”
I nod at my husband, staring down at his hand, at his thumb circling absentmindedly against my thigh. Stimming by proxy, I suppose. It’s helping.
“How do you feel?”
I ponder that for a minute. “I honestly don’t know. HowshouldI feel?”
“I don’t know.”
