Page 10 of Elevator Pitch

“I’m stuck in his grip, and he’s snoring hard in my ear. My blood is boiling. Eventually, he rolls over, and I climb out of the bed to get dressed. I don’t make a sound. I’m tiptoeing down the stairs, and you know what happens? This loud, deep-ass bark from the pits of hell roars through the fucking house, and it scares the fuck out of me. I hold in a scream and can’t see shit because it’s dark. I use the flashlight on my phone and find his dog staring at me at the foot of the stairs. I wouldn’t even call it a dog. Marshall is a dog—thatthinghas done time at Riker’s. Anyway, he was so loud that he woke the guy up, and he caught me trying to escape. I froze on the steps because I wasn’t going to try walking past that thing.”

The table erupts in laughter, and Daya can’t even keep a straight face.

“Holy shit,” Eric wheezes.

“Fucking loudmouth Doberman. At least my dog is quiet,” she grumbles. “Anyway, he wakes him up, and it’s awkward, okay? I let him down easy ‘cause I’m leaving. I was very clear about it being a hookup. He handles it well and goes back to bed after reassuring me the dog is friendly. Once the shock wears off, I realize he’s a cute little menace. Still a snitch, though. He even licks my hand when I pass him to walk out the door,” she adds with an eye roll.

“He wanted you to be his new mommy,” Chess teases.

She covers her face and shakes her head. “Who’s next?”

I tell them all about my hibachi hell date, starting with the shrimp catching and the egg on my foot. I tell them about him ordering my well-done steak, rapping at the table, and calling me his ex’s name all night.

Then he had the audacity to assume we’d be going out again and tried to kiss me at the end of the night. He ended up with six strikes instead of three because I couldn’t bring myself to get up and leave. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and I let him down relatively easily compared to what he deserved. Then he went on to request the funds for my share of the bill because I was being a ‘bitch.’

By the looks on their faces, I think I may have won this week. However, I don’t want a pity vote, and Chess had it worse. Eric stopped laughing a while ago and looks like he’s ready to pay Keith a visit once brunch is over. He always sits at another table close by, letting us have Aud to ourselves. Then he’ll tell us not to disturb him while he’s reading, but he’ll jump into our conversations anyway. By the end of brunch, we all moved around to make room for his chair. You’ve gotta love him.

“Ready to vote for our winner?” Audrey asks the table.

Everyone nods and says ‘Selah’ in unison.

I won’t argue with that.

5

the dreaded ‘v-word’

Selah

Manhattan, NY | September 6, 2023

I’ve setup my iPad on my island, along with my usual supplies for therapy—tissues, water, a notepad and a pen. I sit and stare at the clock as I wait for the call. I think of what’s happened over the last week and what I’d like to discuss today. Moments later, Dr. Garnett’s name flashes on the screen, and I swipe to answer. She appears with a soft smile. Her burgundy hair is styled in a short, layered bob with a side bang. When she reaches up to adjust her square-framed glasses, I notice how her olive blouse compliments her brown skin.

It was important for me to find a fellow Black woman as a therapist. I wanted to open up to someone who looked like me and would have a better understanding of my daily challenges as a Black woman.

“Good Afternoon, Selah. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m feeling better, Doc. It was an okay week. I had a bad date, so I won the brunch games, met some neighbors, and made no progress on my list.”

“What about the date was bad?”

“Everything. It was awful, and I didn’t leave whenI should’ve. The cook dropped a raw egg on my foot. My date couldn’t pronounce my name and eventually started calling me his ex’s name. He refused to order what I wanted, so he ordered for me. He didn’t have a job and is a rapper who sent me his music once I told him where I worked. He interrupted me whenever I spoke and got six strikes.” I let out a resigned sigh.

She starts jotting down notes before she looks back into the camera.

“It sounds like you weren’t comfortable at any point of the date. You implemented the strike system for these exact situations. To have an excuse to remove yourself. Take a moment to think about that.”

I think about it, and I’m not sure what it was about this date that made me feel stuck. It was as if everything I’d been working toward left me in that moment. It returned when I got angry at the end of the night.

“Simple answer. I’m still people-pleasing. I’m struggling with taking control of situations and removing myself when I’m uncomfortable because I’m still considering everyone’s feelings over my own.”

“Did you stay the entire time?”

I nod. “At the end of the date, he called me ‘Sara,’ tried to kiss me, and suggested that I’d be paying the next time. I finally got angry and found my voice.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Not as good as I expected. Probably because I should’ve spoken up sooner. When I left the date, I was disappointed, mostly with myself, and I was hurt. He even Venmoed me for my meal because I was a ‘bitch.’ His words. It felt like a sick joke by how much worse it got. I just wanted to go home so I could cry. I even contemplated deleting theSoulBlendapp.”

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