Page 9 of Thankful
I put the phone on speaker, set it on the nightstand, and place a hand over my heart. Hearing her say that so bluntly damaged me. She’s not in love with me anymore. Those words actually broke a bone. That’s how painful it is to hear. I know we don’t have the best relationship, and I know it’s my fault, but I didn’t think it was on this level. That she had no feelings for me whatsoever, especially considering how good we used to be.
We were everything.
Inseparable.
Now, we’re distant. It’s like she never loved me at all. Like she doesn’t recall ever being happy with me.
“I have to go,” she says.
“It’s just a favor, Cyn,” I say downcast because the magnitude of her words still has me rattled.
I cannot pretend I’m in love with you.
Still, I press on past the hurt and try to convince her to do this for me. My parents think highly of me. I grew up to be theperfectson with theperfectgrades, theperfectjob, theperfecthome, theperfectwife, and theperfectlife. What will they think of me when they find out I no longer have what made my life soperfect?
Her.
“It’s an absurd favor. I cannot believe you’re even asking me this? What part about me moving out did you think I ever wanted to move back in?”
“It would literally be for what? Four days? You can’t handle being in my presence for four days, Cynnamon?”
Another sigh slices through the line. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why are you talking to me like we’re still cordial? Before you texted me today, I hadn’t heard from you in months. And now, you’re asking me to move in with you?”
“For only four days.”
“I don’t care how many days! You’re still asking me to move in, which is insane. See, this is what I be talking about. Everything, and I meane-ve-ry-thingis always about you–about what Brixton wants. Do you even consider other people’s feelings when you make decisions?”
“Of course I–”
“Obviously you don’t if you’re asking me to do something so unbelievably stupid. Just tell your parents you screwed up and take the ‘L’. Bye.”
She hangs up, ending the call and my hopes of keeping this separation a secret from my parents. I fall back on the bed, covering my face with my hands. How did I end up here? I’m great at everything else – at intense surgeries, complex decisions, diagnosing patients, and recommending treatments. I’m not good at knowing how to make a woman happy – one who I’m still very much in love with.
chapter three.
cyn
“He wants youto do what now?” Evie asks, placing her Chanel purse on the island. It’s a Friday night, and instead of being out kicking it, her eyes are wide and attentive to my every word. She’s my first cousin on my mom’s side and also my best friend – the person I talk to when I have issues. I can’t very well talk to Ellis. My brother is so involved in his fitness business, he doesn’t really have time for much else, especially my lil’ ol’ problems. My friend Laureena – we graduated from high school together, but she became a mom early in life. She was eight months pregnant when she walked across the stage and accepted her diploma. She went straight into the workforce and worked her way up to manager at The Chicken Shack. The woman stays busy.
So, Evie it is!
We share everything. She listens to my drama and gives me advice. I listen to hers and do the same. Unfortunately for her, I usually have more drama than she does. Brix gives me plenty of frustration and content. I could start a podcast about the man and never run out of material.
“You heard me correctly. Brixton wants me topretendwe’re still together to appease his parents.”
“What you cooking?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you angrily chopping—murdering—those carrots?”
“Angrily?”
“Yeah. I’m scared of you. Woo!”
“I’m chopping them to put in freezer bags so they don’t go bad.”
“So responsible. See...you housewife material for sure, ‘cause I ain’t chopping nothing, and I ain’t saving nothing.”
