Queen Bee

March 2004 (2)

It was a few days later, and I swear to god I haven't been able to sleep even a single fuckin' hour the entire time I've been at Denaun and Zoe's. My mind was running constantly, and I was exhausted, crying essentially any time Zoe would leave me alone long enough for the tears to spill out. I just couldn't figure out how in the fuck Marshall's gotten to this point? Is it my fault? Could I be doing something different? Have I not been pushing him hard enough to go get treatment? Will he ever go get treatment? Or will he just keep doing this until he kills himself?

All of these questions have made me start having a lot of brutally honest conversations with myself that quite honestly, I should have been having long before now. But I guess I just never wanted to. I guess I've been avoiding it for probably years at this point... And it makes sense why. Every conclusion I've come to, is the one I've been absolutely terrified of. The one I've been constantly shoving into the back of my mind and ignoring. The one I can't stand to even think about... But I have to. I have to for Des, and I have to for me. 

Pacing the large spare bedroom that Zoe had kept impressively stocked with anything and everything a house guest could ever need, I held my phone tightly as my thumb hovered over the call button. My palms were melting with sweat and my heart was in my throat. I knew I had to call him and talk to him finally, I mean I can't hide from him forever. Or at least not with Des. 

Swallowing my nerves down as hard as I could, I quickly smashed the call button in hopes that it would just be like ripping off a bandaid, but the pain was so much worse. As my hands shook, I brought the phone up to my ear, anxiously sitting down on the edge of the bed while my foot rapidly tapped against the carpeted floor. "No shit, the baby napper finally decided to call me back." Marshall's hostile tone quickly spilled through the speaker. 

"Des was fuckin' terrified, okay? And ya knew where he was." I spat back. 

"Uh huh. So ya ready to come crawlin' back now or what?" 

"No, you needa come here and we needa talk." 

"Yeah? Talk 'bout what? You stealin' Des? 'Cause I can just call my lawyer and have him come talk to you instead-" 

"I didn't fuckin' steal Des!" I yelled. "Look if ya ain't wanna come-" 

"Nah Angel I'm fuckin' comin'! I'm comin' to get my goddamn son, aight? I could give a fuck 'bout you-"

"You could give a fuck 'bout me?! Then don't fuckin' come, Des ain't even here right now!" 

"Where the fuck'dya ship my kid off to, Angel?!"

"I ain't ship him off anywhere! He's with Denaun and Zoe for the day so I could fuckin' talk to you in peace!" 

"So ya just gon' continue to try and keep him from me or what?!" 

"I ain't keepin' him from you! I'm tryna fuckin' talk to you!" 

"Well what if I ain't wanna talk to you, huh?! I'm sick of this shit, Angel! Either ya home or ya not! Pick a fuckin' lane and stick with it 'cause I'm done with ya leavin'!" 

"I'm tryna if you'd just fuckin' come and talk to me!" 

"What the fuck do ya think I'm doin' right now then?! God, ya such a annoyin' fuckin' bitch sometimes. I'm almost there." He seethed one last time and immediately the line went dead. Inhaling a rough and jagged breath, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. But instead, I tried my best to just remain as calm as possible. If I want this conversation to go at least half decent, I clearly need to be the one to act like an adult here since he obviously refuses. 

Snapping my phone shut, I headed downstairs to where I nervously waited for him for the next fifteen minutes. Almost there, my ass. After hearing the doorbell, I quickly ran towards it, my legs resembling jello more and more with each step I took. As I unlocked it, I mentally prepared myself for the absolute shit storm I was about to endure. Slowly opening it, I was met with his deadpanned glare and his nonexistent voice. Rather than say hi, he just pushed his way past me towards the kitchen as I gently re-closed the front door, locking it once more.