amsterdam ( central cee )

24

"You said what to him?!" Mohammed's jeweled fingers clenched around the steering wheel and I sunk into myself, hoping I'd merge into the leather of the car seat.

"You said to be honest with how I felt!" I protest loudly.
Dina, Mohammed's wife, places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

"Baby, no." She sighed. "I think you just made him confused. Hell, even I am confused right now."

I let out the millionth sob for the day and Dina cradles me in her arms, shoving my face in her chest, allowing my tears to wet her hijab.

"So did he actually fuck that girl?" Mohammed asked still in disbelieve. "Was the point of the entire argument even discussed?

I shrug. "I slapped him."

"That's good. That's always good." Dina said with sarcasm sugared in her tone. She squeezed me tighter and stroked her soft hands through my hair. "So what did he say? Did he choose the music? More importantly, do you mean what you said? Do you really not want him anymore?"

A thrilling thought jumped into my mind as the realization fell on me, the thought of never being able to see him again. Never being able to kiss him or hug him, or...

I couldn't tell him all my accomplishments, I couldn't live next to his because I gave him the stupid option: me or the music. I selfishly wanted him all to myself I wanted the focus to be on me and our relationship.

What was I thinking?

Why was I thinking that?

My silence is enough of an answer for Dina as she doesn't question me further. I sob softly and Mohammed lowers the volume of the radio, sighing with his entire chest, shoulders, and body. I hear him aggressively switch his indicator.

"This situation calls for some Maccies." He noted, shifting into the lane that led to the drive-through of McDonald's.

He orders my regular and something for himself, Dina doesn't want anything.

When we get our food we eat it on the parking lot. I've stopped crying after stuffing my face with a McChicken.

"I'll give it a week," Mohammed said with all sincerity, speaking with his mouth full. "I'm pretty sure you can look at this very moment in a few days and laugh it off."

"Yeah," Dina agreed. "I think you guys will be fine. That is of course if you want it to be fine, would you still... Would you still take him back?" I wouldn't know how to answer this question, I don't know what I want. I want Oakley. Lord knows I love him so much but... I don't want the onslaught of women he drags with him.

Am I dramatic? Was I wrong?!

Don't answer that.

"Han," Dina rubbed my shoulder, sucking me back into the horrible reality of my life. "Whatever choice you decide to make, it's important that you know what you want and what's best for you."

As I sit here Dina's words marinating in my system, grappling with the weight of the decision I made, my heart feels heavy with misery. Doubt hovers above my trail of thoughts, and like I've been doing for the past few sleepless hours. I hate myself and my stupid mouth.

The emotions bottle up, threatening to explode, but I've promised myself that I won't cry any longer; I've been doing so for the past 24 hours. It is done. Whether I was being dramatic or didn't mean what I said, his decision was clear. His priorities were set. Who was I demanding him to change that for me?

I've always been strong, holding back my emotions to face the world with a brave face.  Especially after Valentine died because I believed I'd never get near to a pain great like that. I've experienced grief firsthand, and losing Oakley, even if it may not be permanent, the mere idea of never being able to talk to him again came just as close to actual grief.