Page 2 of On Everything
I forced a smile before turning away from the usual small talk we had between us. Whenever I ran into Ant, those long conversations were my way of being in his presence just a little longer to enjoy the eye candy that he was up close. He wasn’t too talkative, but I would ask him the right questions that I knew would get him going.
That chocolate skin and those muscles that were always exposed made me clinch my thighs at times, but I never thought about cheating. That was the difference between me and Kairo. He didn’t understand the boundaries between wishing and acting.
When I glanced back, I saw that Kairo had his gym bag slung over his shoulder, most likely filled with protein powder, protein bars, and things like a change of clothes. He is a personal trainer and has been encouraging me to join his personal training club to better my overall health during our small talks in the hallway. I wanted to take him up on his offer because of my slight weight gain, but in reality, I barely had enough cash for my rent. Other necessities like a personal trainer are not in my budget. I can’t even afford to eat takeout most of the time.
After going up the stairs getting the only exercise I can afford, I walked inside my apartment, slamming the door behind me.
"Kairo! Come out here now!"
I yelled after stepping inside the door and forcing it shut with my hip. The heat inside our apartment matched the temperature outside because Mr. Lopez still had not come to fix our air conditioning unit.
The temperature wasn’t helping how I felt right now. In fact, it made me madder just thinking about why we were forced to live in the simmering heat this summer. The truth is, Kairoand I were late on rent because he thought he had a guaranteed win on his bet for the Super Bowl. His ass put up our February rent money online and felt just because his favorite team was playing in the big game, that he had a guaranteed win. It instead didn’t work like he wanted it too and left him in debt, which meant I was in debt too.
“Kairo! I know you hear me!”
"What is it, Ciara? I’m getting dressed!” Kairo’s voice carried from the back room.
He was getting ready for his graveyard shift at the plant he works at from 7:00 pm to 6:00 am in the morning. It was only his month number two there and he has already told me a million reasons why it wouldn’t work out for too long. It was too hot, the pallets were too heavy, or his favorite excuse, I could make double this on the streets and faster. Selling drugs was probably the one thing I never wanted him to do again the most. I did that visitation thing with his ass a few times in our relationship, and I already told him I’m not doing it again. Kairo was doing good now. He had an honest job; he wasn’t in the streets every night doing fucked up shit. At least that’s what I’ve been led to believe since he got out about a year ago after his last six month bid.
I walked into our bedroom that had an overpowering scent of weed and my lavender candle that he used as both a deodorizer and an ashtray. I swear I can’t have a nice candle without him or his homeboys fucking it up with ashes.
“Ciara why the fuck are you hollering my name like that when you know I’m getting dressed for work?”
“Because I want to know how dumb of a nigga you have to be to open up a bank account and wine and dine some hoe with a card that has your wife’s name on it?”
“I don’t know what you talking about, Ciara,” he mumbled under his breath, fastening his pants.
“This credit card statement says that you have been doing all kinds of romantic shit for the past few months on my tab. The spa, Kairo? Three separate charges from flower shops? Really? Then you just throw it in my face by letting the shit get mailed here?”
Kairo glanced at me with his nose wrinkled and a disdainful look on his face as if I were the one tripping. He was so good at making me question my sanity when getting on his ass. Kairo was never wrong or the villain in any story he told. That’s unless he wanted to look hard in front of his friends, then his ass would proudly be Freddy Kruger.
“Use your brain, Ciara. Why would I open up a credit card in my wife’s name and get the statements sent to our apartment?”
“I don’t know! That’s what I am still trying to figure out.”
“Well, figure that shit out on your own. You insulting me thinking I’m that fuckin careless. That fuckin stupid. This shit getting old, Ci. What was the point of me changing if you still going to throw shit up in my face?”
“So, you don’t think this shit is wild. A statement showing up for a credit card to our mailbox with all types of fancy shit charged on it. $2,000 worth of shit?”
“Yeah, but it’s even wilder that you accusing me of running up a card on your credit when there are a million hackers in New York City alone that could’ve done that shit. You always bugging looking for some shit to go wrong. I told you before that you can’t stand to be happy. You prove that shit everyday, Ci.” He grabbed the freshly washed shirt I had lying on the bed for him.
I plopped down on the bed and sank into the worn-out mattress with the oh so familiar tired ass cushions. Hearing the bed creak always made me roll my eyes because it was a reminder that we needed to sleep better. Shit, our entire apartment had a worn mismatched appearance with items from my job and the resale shop like our mustard yellow sofa. The only thing inside this apartment that is new was the 55" tv in the living room that I won from a raffle at work. Truthfully, it looked out of place in our scavenged apartment because in here, we need one of those big booty televisions for the aesthetic we have.
I leaned over my knees, exhaling the hump out of my back because not only was I mentally drained, but the shifts I’ve been working this week were killing me. This weekend, I just wanted to lay back, watch a movie, and make love to my husband as much as I can before Monday comes. Getting into it with him about a bitch was the last thing that I wanted to do. I never want to believe the bullshit I hear about Kairo, but it was hard not to with the history we had.
“Look, I’m sorry if I was wrong, Kairo, but what was I supposed to think with this statement coming to our box?”
“Not think the worst about your man. I love your ass, and I told you I’m not on that kind of shit no more. You can’t see that I’m doing better? Working, staying at home with you when I could be running the streets with my boys. Shit, I’m headed to my second home right now for the fifth time this week with no complaints.”
He dashed across the room, getting his black leather belt from the headboard.
“Baby, I know you work hard. Maybe it’s the pressure from my job that’s getting to me too. I mean, this week was inventory,and it wore me out. I just wanted to come home and be with you, then I see this in the mailbox.”
I unfolded the crumbled-up papers still resting in my hand.
“If you think inventory is tough, just imagine what I go through. I work with a bunch of goofy ass niggas who think because I’m younger than them that I don’t know shit. I’m going to end up slapping the fuck out of all of them niggas at that plant, I’m telling you. You need to be thanking God you work where you do because being born a man puts me in jobs close to slavery.”
Kairo didn’t feel that me working at the Assistance Center wore me out, but he couldn't be more wrong. He was at work slanging pallets, and I was slanging can goods and perishables like large bags of pinto beans.
