Page 112 of Zimyra

After she storms away from me, I go to my car and just sit there. I punch the steering wheel out of sheer frustration. I can’t believe I let this happen. For weeks, I kept this on the back burner, trying to think of a good time to tell her. Awayto tell her. I didn’t think she would find out like this.

I start the car, but before I pull off, I dial Peter. He doesn’t answer, so I opt to leave a voicemail. I say, “It’s over. I’m heading back that way soon. I’ll explain later.”

CHAPTER 37

It’s been a week– the worst week of my life. I’ve been back in Bridgeport for this time but refused to talk to my stepfather in person. I haven’t been back to work, nor have I taken any phone calls. I just needed to be left alone so I could sit with this and determine what my next move would be. The problem with that is, I haven’t come up with anything. Zimyra hates me. I’m sure her family knows what I’ve done, so they hate me, too. I’ve never been in a situation like this – a dilemma where I felt like I needed to come up with a game plan to get a woman back because I never wanted one like I want her.

But I want her.

She’s my wife.

I must do something to fix this.

I head over to The Huddle to holla at Murphy for a minute. I didn’t tell him I was back. That’s why when I walk in, he comes from behind the bar and says, “Yo, Ax! What’s up, bro?”

We slap hands and he pats me on the back and says, “What’s your drink?”

“Like you have to ask.”

He chuckles. “My man. I got you.”

He walks back behind the bar and pours a double shot of vodka. I take a seat at the bar and toss it back.

He says, “Daaaaang. Okay, my guy. That’s what we on tonight?”

“Something like that.”

“What are you doing back? You bring your girl with you?”

“No, I didn’t bring her with me. There is noheranymore. It’s just me.”

He pauses, throws a white rag over his left shoulder, and asks, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m back. I’m the same man I was when I left here, and you know what? That’s probably the way it should be. Pour me another.”

Murphy frowns. “Alright. Coming right up.”

He returns to his duties, fulfills a few other orders, and then places another double shot in front of me. I want to down it, but I don’t just yet. I’m too busy thinking about Zimyra – about how much I miss her – yet trying to purge thoughts of her from my mind at the same time. Thoughts about how I hurt her. How I remember tears falling from her eyes as a direct result of something I did.

“Give it to me straight, Ax,” he says, placing the liquor in front of me. “For real…what’s up?”

I shrug. “Nothing. It’s fine. Everything is cool.”

I reach for the glass, but he intercepts and says, “You must’ve forgotten who you’re talking to, man.”

“Ay, Murph…I’m cool, bruh.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what half-baked story you told your pops, but you know that ain’t going to fly with me.”

I sigh and drop my head because I don’t know what else to do.

He says, “The last time I talked to you, you said this woman, Zimyra, was your person. Said you could feel it in my body, your bones, and your blood. Is that not what you told me?”

“It is.”

“Then don’t tell me you’re cool when I can clearly see that you’re not. And, by the way, is that a ring on your finger?”

I look down at my hand and remember our sweet ceremony on the beach. The time we spent together is something I will treasure for the rest of my life.

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