“You think you’re gonna get out of this on a technicality?”
That makes me straighten. “I don’t need to get out of a damn thing, Ben. We aren’t together.”
I hear the frustration in his groan, and I wonder if this grown man is going to have a temper tantrum.
“Don’t act like I never tried to go there with you, Francine. You say no every time. Now I know why—you had other men.”
Oh my God. Is this… jealousy? At his big age?
“That’s unfair,” I snap. “You knew from the start I wasn’t looking for commitment. I thought we were on the same page.”
“Same page would be you telling me about the other guys at least,” he says, annoyed. “Come on.”
The bus squeals to a stop. My grip tightens on the rail and I pull myself up, walking towards the bus exit. “Look. I get you’re upset. I fucked up a bit, not gonna lie. And I’m sorry you found out this way. But I’m not gonna apologize for doing it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?—”
I step off the bus into the street noise, Za’s gonna kill me if I get us banned from another spot, but whatever.
“Benny, I like you,” I cut in, weaving through the crowd. “But you know where I stand on relationships. Commitment? Not my ministry. I hope we can still be friends ’cause I like your club, but if you’re not down, I get it.”
“You’re not listening, Frankie?—”
I speed up my pace, not listening. “Yes yes, you too. I gotta go. Talk later, yeah? Text me. Bye.”
And I hang up before he can start again.
Once I getto my Mum’s ends, I light a spliff even though I promised her I’d quit. In my defense, it was for religious purposes. The first drag nearly burns my lungs out, but at least it gives me something else to focus on besides the fact that I might’ve just ruined my entire social calendar in one stupid, drunken mistake.
The roster. Gone. Just like that.
I blow smoke out the corner of my mouth and laugh bitterly. Am I sad about it? Yeah, sure. I liked the attention. I liked having options, the sweet texts at midnight, the little ego boosts that came when I needed them.
But was I apologetic? Not a chance. I never promised anybody forever. I barely promised them tomorrow.
Besides.
Me and commitment can’t agree none at all.
It’s not something I have ever experienced in a positive light.
My parents?
Married twenty-five years and still can’t stand each other.
Half the couples I know?
Miserable, pretending they’re in love when really they’re just afraid of being alone.
But me?
I like my freedom. I like knowing I can cut whenever the mood shifts. No ties, or begging, and no one expecting me to come home at night besides Za.
Another drag, and I flick ash into the gutter. The only thing I actually regret is how clumsy it was—a sloppy, rookie mistake. A rookie mistake like that can cause damage to my name, and my name means everything to me as I’m still trying to navigate the world of the indie gaming industry.
It’s hard enough being taken seriously as an immigrant Black woman. The minute those incels get word that one of the only women they’ve ever met in real life is a “sex maniac” with a group chat of “lovers,” every business transaction will come with a price I’m not ready to pay.
I should be thinking about damage control, but my mind drifts. I drag again before shaking it off and crush the spliff under my boot.
