This is a voyage through the possibilities of who he is and who he can be in various universes. I welcome you to a world of each and every characteristic of DeVanté is existing as a separate entity in its own universe.
created: 23 February, 2018
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The blinking red light has not ceased since Tuesday, glowing like a evil reminder of my relationship status that it truly happens to be. For three days, I've held my breath as I walked past my phone. Not wanting the problem to be real, mostly so I don't have to deal with it, I've kept myself busier than ever. Suddenly, everything needed to be done. The car had to be washed. I did that. His items needed to be packed and separated. I did that. My dirty clothes were piling. I washed those. My house needed a spring cleaning. I accomplished that. When it all came crashing down, I knew exactly what my problem was. That damn answering machine.
I sit on my couch, one cushion away from my usual spot because the sun rays invading my space between each blind is enough to visually impair me. The end of my pointer acrylic press down on the play button, running back all of my messages left throughout the week. I push my braids away from my face as I feel myself getting angry all over again. It's him. I know it is.
"It's me. Call me. We needa' talk."
Click.
"Stop playing and pick up the phone. I miss you."
Sighing, I swap out my message tape as I come to realize that DeVante's refilled it completely on his own over the last three days. I know the rest of the tape is him and that is exactly what fuels me to snatch the tape out and put a clean, fresh, new start in its place. Nails tap at my front door, pulling me from my seat to let my friend into my home.
"When I say I still can't walk straight," Valerie whines, half joking, as she enters my apartment.
My nose turns up. "Nuh uhn, do not come up in here bragging about whatever kinda' dick you got." My nail runs beneath the lining of my sports bra, relieving my skin of the tight spandex compression. "We hate men in here. Cut all that out."
"Do you know who your man is?"
Forcing a smile, I fall on the couch as I return to my original seat. Valerie takes a seat closest to the window to bask in the bright sunshine. "I don't have a man. Not no more at least," I inform, not having to face Valerie to know her jaw has dropped. I hear her hefty gasp. "Had the nerve to have some bitch in his lap at Kenny's party while I wasn't there. Ha! He's cut. That's the end of that."
Shock faltering as she realizes how serious I am, Valerie shoots up from her seat in a hissy. "No, wait!" She remains shocked. "Not DeVante! He not out here moving like thaaaaaat!"
"But he is and I told him when he was pressing me that I understand his field of work and if he ever needs space or feels enticed, we can split real chill-like. So why he thought that shit was going to work in any way proves that he's smoking more than weed." It's the first time I've been given the chance to express my feelings about the situation. "Then she puppy dog following him around the spot, talking all in his ear, bringing him drinks? Nah, I'm cool off all of that."
