My Valentine

Twenty-Five

Nightengale Phillips

Berry's shirt was a burnt out shade of brown. It reminded me of how Tammy's skin had dulled as we stood there in an awkward silence.

Berry himself wouldn't look at her.

I was tempted to grab my best friend and make a run for it. Why did it feel as if everything in my life was tumbling down? A few months ago, Tammy and I had our whole lives figured out. Now, here she stood, looking just as young and unsure as she was.

"Why would you lead this poor boy on like that?"

"Mama..."

I studied Tammy in both pity and disappointment. They say they if you won't stand up for anything else, stand up for love. Tammy stood up for everything else but love.

She stood up to everyone else but her mother.

For once, I thought she'd finally come clean to her mom about how felt about Berry.

I was tempted to reach for her hand. I didn't know if it would have been for my comfort or hers.

It didn't matter, though, because she moved away from me and went to sit beside Berry who still hadn't looked at her.

What had Mrs. Jones said to him before we'd gotten there?

I didn't know if I should have sat or if it was better if I stood. I wanted to be anywhere, but in the Jones's living room.

I marvelled at how their house was the only place I felt a sense of comfort since Marshall and I had been having complications in our relationship.

Everywhere else reminded me of him and that was because I had let him into every aspect of my life. Even my room had started to smell like him.
Anyway, I could no longer feel that sense of comfort because there was tension even here.

Maybe I was a jinx. I mean, I'd brought Berry into their lives.

"Berry, I... I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I'd never date a white boy."

Berry finally looked at her.

People spoke of how women always looked torn apart when their hearts were broken. You know, the pain being evident in their eyes, the depression that some endured, but they never seemed to mention the men. Believe it or not, they did hurt too. 

Berry seemed to have been punched in the stomach repetitively by a team of hulking footballers.

"What're you talking about Tammy?"

I wanted to ask her the same thing. I'd been there. I saw how they looked at each other. I saw how she looked at him.

Even when we found Mrs. Jones and Berry together, Tammy hadn't been focused on Mrs. Jones's face. She was looking at Berry the whole time. 

"I'm sorry."

Berry didn't say anything for a while. He only got up and...left.

I didn't stand in his way. In fact, I silently cheered him on.

You could call me a bad friend if you wanted to, but I knew what it felt like to not be someone's first choice when you would lay down your life for the person.

Bartholomew had removed himself from the situation without conflict. Many people these days didn't know how to remove themselves from a battle that was being lost.

Hell, I didn't know how to remove myself from the situation even when Marshall had obviously chosen who he wanted to be with.

Sometimes... sometimes it was better to just leave. I called it self preservation, whether it was emotional or mental.