cruel ; zayn

un

"Do you believe in astrology?" I wondered aloud. I honestly wasn't looking for an answer at all. The car was filled with silence, not unlike most other days, and sometimes my mind would wonder off to a different place.

"What?" Vic momentarily took his eyes off the road to turn his lip up at me. I knew better than to say anything, but it slipped past my lips as if I had no control of my own voice.

"I- nothing." I said, deflated.

"Fuck I look like, believing in stars and shit. I look like I believe in stars and shit?" Vic barked at me.

Okay, it was not for all that.

He always did this—
Always got real heated if I said something out of line or spoke about anything other than what he wanted to speak about. I lost all autonomy the day I met him.

"Nah," I shook my head looking down at my lap, continuing to lose myself in my thoughts.

I think I believe in astrology. To a fault, anyways. I think that people can have traits from the stars based on the moment in time they were born and what not. The way we all have subtle differences in personality, and thinking, yet we can be grouped together by uncanny similarities. I think that people's compatibility and relationships can be based off those same stars. But I also believe there is more to people, that we can't just reduce people to their signs.

I was just wondering.

I'm a Cancer. Moonchild. One of the most intuitive, powerful signs on the zodiac chart. I am sensitive and nurturing and full of love. Some-- probably, most would say incredibly moody but always there for my friends and family when they need it.

Vic's an Aries. Our stars don't align.

I was just thinking.

"Stupid ass." He muttered under his breath, taking his one hand off the wheel to sip his 40.

"What?" My head snapped at him.  You drinking and driving and I'm the stupid one? I saw red. "Say it with your chest, yeah?"

"I called you a stupid ass bitch! Why? What you gon' do 'bout it?" Vic shouted now fully staring at me and almost swerving into oncoming traffic. "Maaan, wait 'til we get home. Ooh, I can't wait to handle that ass."

That was an empty threat. I knew that now. Before, I would have been scared, maybe texting my girls to show up at the house before we did. But that was before I knew that all he did was bluff. He would yell curses at me, scream hurtful things to me until his voice was gone. But he never laid a finger on me. The worst he's done is destroy my things.

There was a time where he would make me laugh until I cried. Now I just cry, funny enough. I couldn't tell you why I'm still with him or why I let him treat me the way I do.

He loves me. And, I guess, for some godforsaken reason, I love him, too.

We pulled up to our apartment complex. We sat there in silence for a moment. Then he said, "Man if you don't get the fuck out of my car."

"You not coming in?" I asked, gathering my things in my arms. He shook his head. I glanced over at his phone which he was typing away on. Hm. "You not coming home tonight?" Cheating. Ass.

"Man, I got real shit to deal with, Maz, I ain't worried 'bout you."

"What kind of name is Trinidad?" Juhi spoke over FaceTime, cringing as she drove to my apartment. As soon as I got inside I called my friends to invite them over.

"A stripper name if you asking me." Egypt snickered. "Wait, y'all don't think my name sounds like a stripper's name, right?"

Nanu's father was born and raised, and eventually died in Egypt. Her parents fell in love quickly when they met in college, but after her father, who's name was Atem Iman, fell ill, he was sent back to Egypt to be with his family. What he didn't know, was that the woman he was leaving behind was pregnant with his child. After all of that, Fatima, Nanu's mother, changed her last name to Iman and nicknamed her baby Egypt in memorial to her lost love. How romantic.