Superficial (DE)

Twenty-two.

"Look at this Cerise— this is a mess!" Velma exclaimed from the kitchen as she walked through Cerise's condo that very much reflected her mental state at the moment— a mess.

Velma picked up an old Starbucks cup off the counter that was starting to show signs of life on the inside, immediately curling her top lip up in disgust as she tossed the old cup into the garbage. "That's it! I'm calling Rosa to come clean, this is disgusting Cerise!"

"Mom! Okay!" Cerise shouted frustratedly, growing tired of listening to her mother complain about the state of her condo for the last ten minutes since she'd arrived uninvitedly.

Cerise yanked the stale covers back up over her head as she listened to her mother's heels make clicking sounds against the polished wood floor as she walked around picking up as much trash as she could, trying to straighten up and make the place at least look livable.

Velma grabbed a few articles of clothing and the same pair of Tom Ford heels Cerise had on the last time she saw Brandon and carried them into her room, dropping the clothes on the floor at the foot of her bed. The Notebook was playing on her mounted flatscreen for the third time today though she wasn't watching it. A mound of tear and snot soiled tissues blanketed her bed and sprinkled her floor.

GiGi, Cerise's Yorkie, looked up at Velma with a slight head tilt. "I don't know what's wrong with your mama," Velma said in a baby voice, picking the small dog up and petting her.

Velma had never seen Cerise in such shambles before, not even over her breakup with Derrick and he was the first man she ever 'loved'.

"Cerise— honey what is wrong?" Velma asked, setting the dog back down.

"Mom please—," Cerise groaned from under the stuffy covers.

"Honey this isn't like you and it's got me worried. You haven't responded to mine nor your fathers texts or calls in a week, you apartment is filthy—," Velma started as she began picking up the soggy tissues. "This has nothing to do with Derrick does it?"

"No mom," Cerise grumbled irritatedly. "Him and I will never be together again. Matter of fact, we were never together in the first place because he was married the whole time!" She exclaimed, sitting up like a mummy in a casket and flinging the covers back knocking tissues all over the ground.

Velma clutched her pearls taken aback by her daughter's appearance— hair a stray, lash extensions patchy from continual crying, eyes swollen and puffy, nose red like Rudolph. "Oh honey.."

"I'm fine," Cerise sniffled, kicking the covers off her legs and sliding out of bed clad in an over sized tee shirt— Brandon's tee shirt to be exact, shuffling to the adjacent bathroom and closing the door roughly behind her. Getting up to use the bathroom is one of the only reasons she'd leave the comfort of her bed the past couple of days.

Turning the sink on full blast, Cerise stood in front of the mirror staring at herself. She almost didn't even recognize her own self. Cerise wasn't even this hurt when Derrick broke her heart, and it was beginning to make her question if that was even real love in the first place, or was it just vulnerability?

Cerise didn't think she was in love with Brandon but she felt as though she were withdrawing from narcotics without him. She felt physically ill and mentally taut. She felt as though she were back at square one again, losing sense of self— again.

She didn't understand how one could go from having such meaningful, deep expressions of conversation, to sharing a physical connection so electric she could feel his touch even when he wasn't present, to nothing at all.

A whole week had lapsed and not a single call or text.

It left cerise feeling embarrassed and used, like Asante had been right all along but the hopeless romantic in her refused to believe the signs. It made Cerise feel angry and betrayed the way Brandon habituated her mind, caressed her brain and opened her eyes to a different version of the world just for him to act like she never existed.