"Baby, why you hurt me, leave me and desert me?"-Ashanti
Brentwood, CA
"Please don't tell me you and Ralph are still an item? Is that why we hardly see your ass?" Twirling my fork around my untouched pasta, I glance up to find my friends; Breon, Sierra, and Heather giving me death stares. Apparently, Ralph Cunningham is popular at this campus. Every time I look up, someone is in my business about what I do with my boyfriend. Ralph graduated two years ahead of me, but is still active on campus. He volunteers at the library frequently as a tutor; though his real passion is to go to law school. And as a supportive girlfriend, I will bend my back to support him.
"Yes we are. Why is that any of y'all concern?" I question, immediately losing an appetite. Juggling my classes, working part-time, and dedicating some of my spare time to Ralph, I am running off three hours of sleep and about four cups of coffee. The last thing I want to do is sit in a nosey ass cafeteria gossiping about my love life.
"Calm down Ms. Hollywood." Breon overly curious ass jokes, swaying his invisible bundles across his shoulder. Apparently, I heavily resemble New New from the movie ATL—so people call me Hollywood. "We are only looking after you hunny bun. You don't know that dirty dick bastard from a hooker on the corner. We only want what is best for you."
"I know that's right." Sierra chimes in. "I don't see how you sleep next to a dog who has fleas. He bluntly texts other women in front of your face, flirts with them, but it is obvious you're too in denial to realize that shit. We are seniors sweetheart and we alllll gotten a taste of Ralph—except for Breon."
"And you all pick this very moment to say anything? Is it because of jealousy?"
"Oh hell no bitch!" Breon exclaims, popping his lips dramatically. "Don't nobody want Ralph's small dick ass. Can't fucking please me if I was attracted to his whore ass. We been throwing your clueless ass hints for the longest, but I see you never catch the hint."
"I am a human being—not a dog I don't catch shit around these parts. So what if he had multiple women in the past. I'm Lauren sweetheart, I know how to keep and maintain my man." I lied through gritted teeth. Ralph ain't perfect. I'm not perfect. But we deal with our differences.
"You's a dumb ass broad." Breon comments, snaring in my direction. "What makes you think your outer beauty is going to tame that damn man? I room-mated with the nigga before; I know the type of little boy that he is. If he gets bored with one whore then me moves on to his next victim. Because you seem like a cool chick, I figured I would warn your gullible ass but seems to me you'll rather find shit out the hard way."
"I appreciate your concern, and by all mean, I have no issue with you Breon. From here on out, let me worry about me and my man; you worry about you and yours. If I'm a gullible ass bitch, let me be that gullible ass bitch."
🏁
"Lauren...you straight? You spaced out on me." Blinking back tears that I know I shouldn't feel, sadly, I do. Today, June 18–exactly four years since the day Ralph and I experienced something traumatic that literally strained our relationship. The loss of our unborn child. A girl that we named Kennedy Cunningham. This morning when I opened my eyes, my eyes were puffy and wet from me crying in my sleep. When I climbed out of bed, my entire body collapsed onto the cold ground. An ear bursting screech escaped from my lips as I cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. The pain hurts bearably. What hurt the most is the message I woken up to from Ralph:
