december.
bey.
I could smell the concoction of cleaning products that Samora had used to clean the house when I walked in, and the feeling of anger no longer permeated our home. The glass was gone and everything he'd broken before had been replaced.
I dropped my purse in the foyer and my keys in the key bowl. When he heard me, Samora ran down the stairs. He stood at the end of the foyer while I stood at the door. Usually I would have said something, but I had nothing else to give. He'd cleaned up a mess that he created. So?
"Babe I'm sorry. I fucked up and I let my anger get to me. I'm so sorry baby," He came over and wrapped his arms around me, guilt laced in his voice. "I was just going through something and then we started arguing and you left-"
"I thought we talked about this."
"We did babe. It's just a lot easier to say than do."
"Samora you walked in this house trying to argue with me. And the way you talk to me..."
"Beyoncé I'm sorry," He pulled away and took me by the hands, "I love you, and when I think about last night, I'm embarrassed and I know it was all my fault. It was me."
"I know it was you. You don't have to let me know that."
"I'm apologizing Bey."
"Stop talking to me like that. You wanna throw a fit and fuck up shit you're going to be cleaning anyway, be my guest, but you will stop talking to me like some cheap hoe. You married me, I expect you to know how to talk to me."
"I just get mad babe, and everything just starts flying out. I'm working on it. I'm trying. You know that."
"I need you to try harder. I'm on the receiving end and it doesn't feel good from where I'm standing. Stop disrespecting me. You wouldn't like it if I did that shit to you."
"I wouldn't babe. I'm so sorry."
I didn't say a word. He apologized profusely and kissed me more.
I knew that Samora was sorry, and I knew he was sincere. He wasn't a bad man. I wouldn't have married him if he was a bad man. He had his ways but so did I, and he took me with every flaw. He was human, bound to fuck up at some point, and I wasn't going to blame him for actions that he was genuinely remorseful for. At the end of the day he was my husband and I loved him so much.
I gave in, hugging him back and raking my nails down his back.
"Don't do no shit like that again Samora. I swear to God I will never come home again."
"You gotta stop walking away from me when I'm trying to talk to you."
"I don't," I shot back, "Not when you're provoking me to argue and I literally told you I'm not trying to fight."
"Where'd you go?"
"I was with Kelly. She was the only person I could call at that time of the night anyway."
"And y'all just talked shit about me?"
"If that helps you sleep at night."
When he pulled away, he kissed me real soft, and for the first time, I noticed that his mustache was gone. I grabbed his face and rubbed. "When did you do that?"
"You didn't notice when we were arguing?"
"We were not arguing, and I wasn't really looking at you."
He frowned, "I'm sorry about that again baby. I shouldn't have come home and tried to take my problems out on you."
"What even happened? You came in arguing then told me I started with you. You had me so fucked up Samora. If I hadn't walked away from you, I would have said some things that we would both regret by the morning."
