one
. . .
Before the D.
Cassidy
“If you could build the perfect nigga, what would be some of your must-haves?” my best friend, Lauryn, asked.
I pulled the phone away from my ear with a frown across my face. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I need you to get out of this funk you’ve been in!”
“I told you, I’m fine,” I assured her.
“Have you tried dating apps? You know, to get your feet wet again.”
“For what? To be bombarded with unauthorized dick pics from niggas who have pinky dicks in real life? No thanks.”
“I had a nigga with a small dick once. You remember Carlos from Wayberry?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Girl, yikes. That shit was mega small, too. And all he ever wanted to do was eat my fuckin’ pussy. I mean morning, noon, and night. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, bitch. Believe it or not, it was really fuckin’ annoying.” She chuckled.
I chuckled before kissing my teeth. “Well, at least you got some reliable dick now. I, on the other hand, never want to see another dick again.”
“Um, about that. You’ve been sending me all types of cryptic messages, cryptic signals, and cryptic vibes and shit when it comes to this breakup with Omar, and you need to spill the tea.”
“What’s there to spill, Lauryn? You asked what happened, and I told you.”
“So, he just up and left? Just like that? With no explanation?” she quizzed.
“Nope,” I lied.
Some things were better left unsaid. There was no way I was going to let Lauryn or the rest of my girls know the full story. He’d cheated on me with his ex over Thanksgiving break when he flew to Florida to be with his family. My company was launching a new product for Black Friday, so I had to stay behind in San Jose. Turns out, he’d had turkey for dinner and his ex for dessert, which resulted in her getting pregnant. I carried around enough shame and embarrassment, and I didn’t need it from my girls. I was nobody’s charity case or pity party.
“Wow, that’s some fucked-up ass shit.”
“Some bitch shit,” I corrected her, my glacial voice holding a bitter note. “IwishI had a crystal ball to predict that shit.”
As much as I tried to play it cool, the pain tore through my entire body like a raging wildfire. I raised a glass of Merlot to my lips while thinking back to the anniversary dinner date from hell that turned my heart into an emotional wasteland three weeks prior.
Omar sat across from me with his pecan brown eyes locked on his iPhone screen. It was easy for him to fade the buzz of the restaurant into the background, me included. I’d been trying my best to make pleasant conversation with him since we’d been seated, yet whatever was in his phone clearly had his full attention.
“Can you please put your phone down and talk to me?” I asked, glancing down at the half-eaten California roll we shared.
“It’s work.”
“Okay, and? You’ve been distant for months, and all I’m asking for is a couple hours of your time. I thought going out tonight would be special.”
“What’s so special about tonight? It’s Thursday.”
“Yeah, but it’s the anniversary of our very first date, Omar. I’ve been working like crazy, and I know you have too. I thought we could use this alone time to rekindle the flame,” I said, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand.
He slowly slid his hand from underneath mine and quickly sloshed the rest of his Moscow mule down the back of his throat. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, Cass.”
“Can it wait? I really just want to enjoy tonight, baby.”
