"I can't recall the last time I took advice from anyone..." - SZA
Crenshaw District, South Los Angeles
"Ma'am...Ma'am, either you pay me for your meal or I will be forced to call the police." There is no universe. There is no sound. All talk fell onto deaths bleeding ears. Sitting at an empty table with one leg bouncing erratically and an noticeable smug expression on my face. I blank my eyes a few times until the events prior registered inside my mind. Wearing an all grey Giorgio Armani pantsuit with nude closed-toe pumps with my frost pink red lipgloss, I imitate an individual who appears to have it all; like money. Unfortunately, that is not my case. I am far from wealthy. Yes. I am wearing name brand items but truth be told, I had a home to call my own about thirty minutes ago. Now, I have nothing.
"Hey baby, thanks for treating me to lunch. I am starving." I tell my boyfriend of three years, grinning cheek to cheek bypassing his avoidant demeanor. "I was thinking we could spend some alone time together; a romantic dinner, maybe catch a movie—"
"—we need to talk Lauren." He interrupts, fumbling with his two thumbs. Raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. Sensing his mood change, I slowly place the fork onto the plate before me, giving him my undivided attention.
"Whatever you are going to say," I speak up, slowly chewing my food. "It can be worked out. With a little faith, anything is possible babe." Reaching across the table, I attempt to grab ahold to his face; he declines.
"I haven't been truthful to you." Leaning back, he gaze lowers to his vibrating phone. My woman instructs kick in and before he could decline the call, I peeped the number and immediately knew what was going on. "I care about you; a lot..."
"Excuse me? You care about me or my feelings? I've dedicated too much of my time, patience and effort for you to flip the script in the matter of what, three years?"
"You brought out the best in me," He continues, rewarding an irritable expression from me. Holding back my anger, I continue to eat. Food is my comfort at this moment. "I am not in love with you. I have decided to move to South Carolina to be with my daughter and her mother." Jabbing the fork in my pasta, looking him in the eyes are the least of my worries. Him seeing me emotional will only cause my pain to hurt even more. Tears—that I refuse to show in front of him—are threatened to leak from my eyes. Losing my appetite I toss the napkin on top of the held eaten plate.
"Wait a damn minute...you're giving up on us...just like that?" I knew of his daughter and her mother. The least of my worries were him being madly in love with her. The secretive phone conversations—I thought nothing of it. The various—lengthy trips out of town—I figured it was work. Biting down on my quivering lip, the bittersweet taste of blood welcomes against my dry tongue.
"You're a wonderful person. One day you will find that Mr. Perfect baby girl, but I can't continue to live a lie. I'm selling my house so..." his tone softens, almost above a whisper. He then clears his throat, grabbing the back of his neck figuring out the best routine to convey his next thought. "I have movers at the house packing your things and—"
"Just like that?" I question once again except this time, my voice quivers and my nostrils burn from holding back my tears. "You know my situation...what am I to do about money? A place to live? I sacrificed every damn thing for you; school, my parents, my brother; you owe me. I'm not going any-damn-where. Who in hell helped you get into law school? My money, correct? Who held you down when no one else would?"
"And I appreciate that. Had you not spent every waking second at the mall, then you would've noticed the money I repaid you. All you cared about was shopping with your friends. I was patient with you long enough, and truth be told, you bore me Lauren. You never cook for me. Fucking please me..."
