In Due Time

Torrance

I was on my way back home, got a text from Stacey, saying she was at my place. Said she would talk this time. I agree to talk.

I get up to my door. The dirt around the plant is cleaned up.

I walk in, my whole house is spotless.

There's vacuum lines on the floor. I take my shoes off to keep from fucking them up. It smells good, like homeade cooking. I look on my table.

It's like a lil thanksgiving. I go to my room, my bed is made, laundry done, clothes folded.

"Hey." I jump. Stacey is behind me, has a dress on, one that compliments her curves. The curves I gave her. "Where you been?"

"Out." I say. She nods.

"There's something I want you to see." She pulls out her phone, goes to instagram, opens her dms. "You're friend sent this to me. After I leave the room, you can press play."

She leaves, I sit on the bed, then press play.

It starts off slow.

Then.

I see the painting. Of me. Reading the messages. Then the painting of the woman on top of the man. The doers and the voyeur.

Then the camera pans to the real me.

I'm laying on the futon, butt naked. I'm sleep.

Then I hear a laugh. The camera pans to a woman.

Arizona.

The video ends.

Longest 15 seconds of my life.

_______________________________________________________________________

We at the table. Stacey fixes me a plate, smile still on her face.

I watch her eat first.

Make sure she ain't poison my shit.

Then I eat.

"She's the one you've been fucking?" she asks.

I nod. She nods too.

"I met Cairo today."

She stops chewing. Looks at me, then goes back to chewing.

"So what do you think?"

"He's a bitch nigga."

"And that Arizona bitch is a whore." she says.

I laugh. "Funny how you think you can judge somebody."

"Excuse me?"

"At least she wasn't in a relationship when she fucked somebody else."

She cuts her eyes at me, chews on her chicken, hard.

"I'm trying to make us work, Cal."

"Trying to fix something that wasn't broken."

"We were broken."

"Were? What is we now then?"

She doesn't answer.

Her phone buzzes in my hand, she looks at me. I look at it instead, nothing else she can hide.

It's a text from Cairo.