Page 47 of Love's Instant Replay
Kaeden: I won’t go into details because all you and your people will do is analyze what I don’t say. However, I will say this . . . Y’all need to consider the people you don’t see when you create bullshit headlines and think pieces.
Between the snarl in Kaeden’s tone, the curl of his lip, and the hard lines on his forehead, I can see how Kaeden is handling our breakup. The glow in his hazel eyes isn’t there, and it looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep from the dark and puffy lines under his eyes. An ache in my chest has me unconsciously rubbing my hand as my eyes become misty. The desire to reach out to Kaeden hits me like a tidal wave, but fear has me closing out of social media altogether. Grandma’s words from a little bit ago begin repeating, and I contemplate whether I’m capable of ignoring the continuous attacks and headlines. I’ve never been in this position before, so I’m out of my depth with what I should do. It’s been several days and yet my heart hasn’t let go of thesputter whenever I think about Kaeden. Or the butterflies I get when I recall how he cares for his daughter. Or the vacancy I’m experiencing from not seeing, engaging, kissing, holding, or being with him. I feel like I’ve been living in a twilight zone of my own making, but I don’t know how to fix it. I also don’t know if I should.
“Am I capable of forgetting everything the media says and loving Kaeden despite every headline?”
The question tumbles from my lips without permission as I stare at the TV, unable to see or register anything on the screen. Mom always told me that love doesn’t hurt, but what happens when you hurt yourself trying to cut off those feelings?
There aredays when I wish I could call in sick so I can sit and stare at the ceiling or whatever normal people do when life is beating their ass. Pretending that my heart isn’t in a vice grip and my chest isn’t aching has been a struggle. When Meshay left me, my only concern was how it would affect our daughter. But knowing that I may never get to see, love on, or spend time with Kyelle has anger knotting within me. What makes it worse is the message I received from an unknown poster in my inbox on social media the day after things went downhill. I don’t usually read or acknowledge the thousands of messages that hit my inbox, but this one stopped me in my tracks.
User91521137: Do you think you deserve to be happy without me? Tuh. I think not. If I have it my way, you’ll always be a single father.
I’m saving the message to show stubborn ass Kyelle that I’m innocent and her ass owes me for trying to throw a monkey wrench in our relationship. While Kyelle thinks we’re over, I’m not of that mindset and still moving like a man whose woman has him and his heart on lockdown. Trying to give Kyelle a cool-down period has me in a steel weight of misery that I’m fighting to contain. Every night, my bitch ass brain recalls the brokenness in Kyelle’s eyes, and every night I have to pray through the chest gripping ache I feel.
“Daddy!” Mica’s high-pitched voice cuts into my thoughts, shifting my focus to see her standing in front of me with her little hand on her waist.
The suggestion of annoyance hovering in Mica’s eyes lets me know that this isn’t the first time she’s tried to get my attention.
“What’s up, Cupcake?”
“I miss Ms. Kyelle. When is she coming back over?”
Lord, how am I gonna answer my baby without being in my damn feelings? Hell, I want to know the same damn thing.
“She’s—uh, she’ll be back over soon.”
Once I can show her that your ho ass mama’s vindication isn’t capable of stopping who we’ll become.
“When? It’s been forever,” Mica whines, dragging out the last syllable and causing me to shake my head from her dramatics.
“Is your homework done?” Changing the subject is necessary because I’ve learned my lesson on discussing adult situations with my baby who can’t comprehend any of it.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Looking at my watch, I note that it’s close enough to bedtime that I move Mica to that next step.
Thankfully, Jaleel took care of feeding Mica dinner before I got home, so overseeing bedtime should be easy. Tonight, I’m too on edge to go down the rabbit hole of twenty-one questions with Mica.
“Go and get your shower. When you’re ready, let me know, and I’ll come up to rea?—”
“Can we skip the bedtime story tonight?”
I fight my reaction to the request to contain the frown that wants to form, because Mica hasn’t wanted me to read to her in days.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Mhm. Good night, Daddy.” Leaning in, Mica puckers her lips for a kiss, causing a small smile as I peck her lips twice.
“Good night, Cupcake. I love you.”
“Me too.” With that, Mica walks toward the spiral staircase, ascending without a backward glance, as my chest tightens and releases from the unconscious rejection I’m receiving from Mica.
Staring at Mica, I recall the conversation between us after the second day of her not seeing Kyelle.
“Is Ms. Kyelle coming over, Daddy? I miss her.”
My heart rate increases, and the vein in my neck pulses at the question because I didn’t think Mica would notice Kyelle’s absence so fast. Granted, Kyelle has spent a lot of time here and has been tag-teaming bedtime stories with me, but I didn’t think a couple of days would matter. The stiffness in my back and neck, unrelated to practice or game play, is my reminder of Kyelle not being around. But I’ve been trying to fake it until I make it in front of Mica and anyone else I encounter.
“Not tonight, Cupcake.” My voice is void of emotion despite the ripping in my chest at the acknowledgment.
