Page 28 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

Dre raised an eyebrow while shaking his head. “Don’t you have other shit to be worried about?”

I looked around the trap. “Nigga, what? I am up right now. The trap stay jumping, guns comin’ and goin’, pockets stay fat. I am havin’ my way right now, and I am fuckin’ loving it.”

“Iight, nigga. I just think that you need to take it slow with this girl, you feel me. You are not always…the faithful type.”

“Why do you say that?”

Before Dre could respond, my phone lit up with DON’T ANSWER once again.

“Man, what the fuck!” I yelled out. “This bitch don’t get it?”

Dre laughed. “See, nigga! That’s the shit I'm talkin’ bout. You talkin’ bout she’s the one when you have shit you need to handle.”

I laughed, but I agreed with him. “You right, nigga. I need to go holla at her, make sure she knows where I stand.”

“Yes,” Dre said, clapping as I headed to the door. “Do that first, don’t be a dog-ass nigga all your life.”

I sat in my car for a minute before I pulled off, not wanting to do what I had to, but I knew it was time.

I took the drive to the Upper East Side. The whole drive I was thinking bout shit I'd rather be doing than what I was finna do. When I pulled up to the house, her car was parked in front. I was hoping she was gone, but the way she had been calling my phone, I knew that wasn’t gonna happen.

I hopped outta my car and took my time walking to the door. As I placed my hand on the knob, I took a deep breath and opened the door.

I stood in the entryway and looked around. It had been a minute since I had been there, and shit didn’t feel the same.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I saw her standing ova top of the stove.

She looked at me with an attitude, and I looked at her the same way.

“Welcome home, husband.”

I smirked. “Wussup with you, girl?”

She sucked her teeth.

“What have you been blowing my phone up for?” I asked.

“Because I wanted you to come home.”

I shook my head as I sat down. “This is not my home, Mariah. This was the home you wanted.”

“For us!” she yelled out. “We have been here for three years, and now you come home less and less.”

“Because I want a divorce.”

We stared at each other for a minute. You could hear a pin drop in that kitchen.

“I made steak. I didn’t know you was comin’ home, but I can make another. I also made some yellow rice and some⁠—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” I asked, cutting her off. “I said I want⁠—”

“I heard what you said, Rosama. I am choosing not to respond.”

I sat back in the chair. “You need to respond. Matter of fact, you need to sign the papers I've been sent to you.”

Mariah shook her head. “I'm not signin’ shit. I want us to fix things.”

I exhaled loud and slow. “Baby girl, it takes two people to fix a relationship, and I don’t want to fix shit with you.”