In Due Time

Torrance

It was early in the morning when I finally got back to the crib. The sun was almost up. The sky was that magenta-violet color. I walk up the stairs to my building.

I notice the plant next to my door has been dug through.

Dirt was everywhere. I keep my spare key buried in my plant.

Somebody is in my house.

I wish I had Arizona's gun.

I open the door, hear someone get off the couch. Oh hell naw.

I turn on my light, ready to beat a niggas ass.

"Where have you been?!" Fucking Stacey. Should have known. And she had the nerve to be mad at me because I'm coming into my house early in the morning.

"I was waiting for you. Used that spare key." She tells me to sit down, I ignore her, go in the fridge and find something to drink.

Still tipsy off that Jose.

"What is all over you?" She asks.

I look down, see smears of paint.

Arizona.

I almost smile.

"You paint now?" she looks at the blue, yellow and red hues on my skin.

"How about I paint you a picture of how to leave me the fuck alone?!" The only words I've said to her this morning.

"That hurt, Cal."

I shrug. Thought she was only supposed to be in town for one night. For that function in Watts. Shit, it's been like three days.

"Baby, talk to me."

I ignore her.

"Where you been all night?"

I ignore her.

"Please. Tell me something."

"Can you answer those questions? When, where, why, and how?"

"Cal, don't start this, it's too early."

"Well then I have nothing to tell you." I walk to my room, set my keys and the messages down on my dresser, sit down and take off my clothes.

"Are those hickeys?!" She followed me into the room. "Is that where you were all night? Fucking some bitch?"

I nod.

"Cal, you didn't."

I nod again.

"Do I know them?" I ignore her, like the way she ignores my questions. "Why are you doing this? Out of spite? You hate me, don't you."

I stop undressing. Look at her. Look away.

"Cal, talk to me. You never talk to me." I bout had it with this bitch.

"Well I know who you can talk to, look at those papers on my dresser."

I say.

She looks at me, confused. Then picks up the papers. Reads them. Her eyes get wide.

"No. No. No." she whispers. "Where did you get these?!"

"What matters is I got them. I know now. You couldn't even be upfront with me. Had to find out over some fucking pms."

"How did you..? When did you...? Where the fuck did you...?"

"Now you're asking the questions I've asked you, Stacey. Please, just get the fuck out my crib."

I slam the door to my bathroom, look in the mirror. See the paint. I feel like a warrior or some shit. In this battle I call a relationship. Everybody is my enemy.