“She was being nice because that’s the kind of woman she is, but I’m not stupid, Booda. I wasn’t about to become the girl your mama felt sorry for and had to help because up and disappeared on me.”
“I ain’t disappear, so stop saying that. I just wasn’t where you could reach me.”
“Same shit,” I spat, forcefully wiping a tear away from my cheek.
“It ain’t,” he replied as nonchalant as ever, and we both went quiet.
After a few intense moments had passed, I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I decided to stop trying.
“Booda, what’s the point of this conversation? You wanna fuck? Need some money? You wanted to see if you still had me brainwashed?”
He frowned as if I’d offended him with my questions.
“One.” He held up a finger. “Pussy ain’t never been hard for me to come by. You know that better than anybody.” He held up another. “Two, I provide. I don’t get provided for.” Then he lifted the last. “And three, ain’t nobody brainwash you,” he said as a cocky smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “You just had enough sense to recognize a real nigga. I can’t help it, I’m him.”
“Whatever,” I scoffed. “You said all that, but it still doesn’t explain why you felt the need to talk to me.”
The amusement faded, and his expression shifted to one of sincerity. “I wanted to see you.”
“You could’ve done that from afar.”
“It’s better when we’re close.”
I shook my head, irritated all over again. “I could’ve gone my whole life without speaking to you again. Just say what you need to say, so I can go.”
“You still think you run shit.” Booda chuckled.
“I do.”
“We’ll see.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. We will.”
Before he could get another word in, I turned around and walked off, refusing to give him another second of my time.
“Koko—” he called my name.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I threw over my shoulder without slowing down.
“I’ll never do that,” he said with conviction.
I kept my eyes ahead and kept walking because if I looked back, I knew I’d see him standing there, watching me, like he always did when he thought he had the upper hand.
And I wasn’t about to give him that.
By the time I made it to my car, my head was still pounding, but now it had competition. I kept hearing his voice, kept seeing that smirk, kept feeling the way my body had betrayed me the second he said my name. And he still had the nerve to look at me like he owned every part of me.
I tossed my bags into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted, banging my hand on the steering wheel.
I sat there for a second, hands gripping the wheel, eyes on nothing. There was no way I was supposed to be feeling like this. He had shown up out of nowhere, said everything and nothing at the same time, and now my emotions were all over the place over a man I had no business still caring about.
I gave myself enough time to pull it together before I started the car, pulled out of the lot, and headed back toward my apartment.
By the time I made it home, my nerves were completely shot. I dropped the pharmacy bag on the counter, grabbed the bleach from beneath the sink, and started cleaning my already spotless home.
I sprayed everything in sight. Counters. Sink. Stove. Cabinet handles. If my eyes landed on it, I cleaned it. The rag dragged across the counter in hard circles while my thoughts spiraled right along with it.
