S U G A R || Interracial Short Story

chapter 1: mango, man down

july 4th, 2017
I laid in bed as I silently wept over my Grandma's framed picture.

It has been 10 years since she died, 10 years of grief and holding onto the memories of her. She was my precious woman, my savior.

"You crying over her again? When are you going to stop?" My friend-with-benefits chuckled as he put his dreads into a ponytail.

I scoffed and placed the picture on my night stand. I didn't say anything back to his statement, but instead got from under the covers. My mind wasn't focused on having an irrelevant argument.

Giving him a sweet smile, I asked him, "Leaving so soon?"

"You have such a soft voice, gorgeous. But yeah, I have to go back to check on Angel to see if she's awake." He told me. I was dumbfounded that he was back with her just by saying this to me.

But, then again, I'm not his girlfriend. I'm just another side chick he found in the club.

"Hm, well alright. I'ma get ready for work so I'll see you some time this week."

His face fell into a frown, "No. I actually have PTA meetings with Angel and Sweetie every night this week, so I don't know when I'll see you again."

I stood there with a slight smile. That smile that made people think I was ready to slap the taste out their mouths, "Oh. Okay."

"Yeah."

We stared at each other for what seemed like hours. I rolled my eyes and went towards my closet. Feeling a hand grab my forearm, my body was pulled backwards from where I stood.

"Sugar, why you acting like that?"

"Acting like what? I'm behaving.. normally."

Chandler raised an eyebrow, "Every time I bring up my girlfriend and child it's a problem. You knew what was up when you started messing with me again."

"Tuh... no? You started messing with me again. Don't switch it up."

"Does it matter? It shouldn't bother you if you're just a side chick, right?"

"Wrong. You have known me since I first moved to New York. You know I don't get down like that, Chandler."

He chuckled, "But you were still just some girl that was in the club who lives alone wanting some dick every now and then. That's all I'm here for anyway, so it shouldn't matter."

I guess he's right.

As much as I wanted to shove my foot down his twinkie throat, I walked away from him and picked out my uniform for work. I wasn't going to say my thoughts because, like I said, my mind isn't focused on irrelevant arguments. He knew the things that could rile my up without hesitation.

It needed to stop.

"C'mon, babe." He kissed my bare shoulder.

I shrugged him off, "Listen. I'm trying to get ready for work and I know messing with you I'ma be late. See yourself out, thank you."

"Sugar, I-..."

"Thank you." I sang while looking for my shoes.

Within two minutes I heard the door shut. I sighed with relief and my beating heart was ready to jump out of my chest. Lord knows I couldn't keep doing this to myself, but I didn't have anyone to help motivate me to get out of this.

I know I need to motivate myself, but damn! I didn't have no friends in the Big A or a therapist. It's time I need to find me one.

A therapist.