The story of a single father with a dark past learning that money doesn't make him a man and a black girl who's struggling to rebuild herself less on a man and more on herself.
❝No matter how good of a woman you are, you'll never be good enough for...
"Take a moment and find yourself. Take a moment and ask yourself if this is how we fall apart," Take a Moment, Estelle and AJ Michalka
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Eden
I was aching a little from the night before. When I woke up, Dante had washed the cups we were drinking out of and put them away. He left without a word, taking his daughter with him. All he left was a note telling me I could have the day off. He was considerate enough to leave an Advil and a lukewarm bottle of water on the living room table.
The previous night was blurry. I remember crying, the tubs of ice cream, kissing my boss and then his hand around my waist.
No, correction.
Getting a kiss from my boss. Forehead, my shoulders, and...
The rest of the night had somehow slipped from my memory and in between repeated trips to the bathroom and the constant headaches, I didn't think it was going to come back to me anytime soon.
Dante wouldn't answer any of my phone calls, which probably meant something happened. He wouldn't even text back, which was starting to piss me off. All I was left with was the inky piece of paper with his stupid handwriting, which was neat as hell. That pissed me off too.
"Are you tired of those extra rolls? Tired of even Grandma skipping you when she goes around offering her grandbabies food at the Thanksgiving table? Well not anymore with SkinnySleek," a lady on tv said, way too happy for her own good. Her teeth were straight but crooked and her hair was way too big for her head. The tv flashed a before and after picture quickly, hoping no one would notice that the 'after' lady had a pointer chin. You could literally sharpen her chin a little and write with it, that's how pointy her chin was. It had me cracking up.
I was just sobering up when my phone rang. Instantly snatching it up off the floor, I hoped to see Dante's name across the screen so I could get some answers. Instead, it was my friend Ansel. My brows scrunched together as I accepted the facetime call.
Ansel's oval head popped up on the screen, mid-yell. "Cory, honey, I'm not gonna tell you again. Each person gets three spoons, one for tea, one for dessert, and one for soup. If you forget a third time, I will personally shove all three spoons up your ass. I'm not kidding. Love you though!"
I loved Ansel. Just straight up loved everything about him. From his sassiness to the constantly gelled hair, to the fact that he was a fashion guru.
"Eden," he said sweetly, still not looking at the screen. "How's it going, baby?"
"Uh... good, I guess. Ease up on Cory, whoever the fuck that is," I giggled.
