Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Sometimes people disappear, in order to be found…”
Now isn’t that wild? Maybe this is the day I pull it out of my back pocket, and give it a recall in pure clarity, and understanding…
English sat naked in her bedroom chair, curled up next to Axel’s T-Shirt as the scent of strong incense and Bath and Body vanilla and patchouli candles did its thing. She took a sip of her green tea, and mustered a smile.
My sunrise is here…
I knew this day would eventually come. I’ve gotten weary of looking over my shoulder. Calling my mama to see if anything has come in the mail, all while my heart is beating crazy inside this body of mine, and my mouth has run dry from the stress of it all. I’m tired of the nightmares. Tired of being with my man, and sitting there beside him in movie theaters, restaurants, bars, plays and events I’ve dragged him to, smelling his intoxicating scent that makes me die and come back to life with just a whiff… the sun drifting in those stained-glass windows as I lie next to him in his big ol’ bed, and looking him in the eye…pretending I am okay.
‘ACHE,’ by Emawk played from her Alexa speaker. She sat up, placed her teacup down on her nightstand, and picked up her phone. There were many text messages. Messages full of dried blood. Old scars. Crusted-over cowardice. The serrated knife rantings of a lunatic.
3:56 A.M. – Stupid ass bitch.
4:19 A.M. – I saw you.
5:02 A.M. – Who is that White boy you are with? Is that your man?
5:57 A.M. – You fuck cavemen? Foreal?
…The next day
7:12 P.M. – You’re a nasty ass bedwench.
7:20 A.M. – You will always be mine.
7:43 P.M. – Bitch, you have turned your back on everything I taught you.
You’re broken. I have to fix you.
…and so it went.
She’d never answered her phone when she suspected it was him. Never texted back. Never acknowledged she’d seen the birthday card he’d sent to her mother, or that she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was following her whenever she returned home to visit her family, and at least a few times when she was at work or leaving for lunch with her friends. Axel too had come to her job and taken her to lunch a couple of times. It was now evident he’d seen them together—perhaps witnessed them holding hands, laughing, smiling at one another, and kissing the way lovers do.
She ran her thumb along her phone, dialed a number, then, closed her eyes. Her heart was beating faster, though she tried to assure it that all was well…
“It’s about time you called me back. Listen. We’ve got a lot to talk about. The first thing, Shira, is arranging for us to get together and speak in person, but—”
“Mister Confused, I’m not goin’ no damn where with you. I’m not meeting you NOwhere, either. I’m not trying to hear you, see you, talk to you. You do not exist to me. You are the shadow of a shadow. The dirt beneath the mud pit. The sludge at the bottom of the swamp. This isn’t no pleasure call. This isn’t no, “How do you do?” situation. I’m not sure who you believe you’ve been texting and harassing, but she doesn’t live here anymore… This is a warning. DO NOT. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. CALL ME AGAIN.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Shira, and who are you calling Mister? My mothafuckin’ name is Master, bitch! And—”
“My name is English, not Shira. I’m not calling you Master. Your name is Mister ‘Confused’ Whitefield. I also need you to increase your vocabulary because the B word insult is getting old. The only bitch on this phone is you. You’d have to be, to keep calling someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you, and I want to thank you for this time together, because now I have proof for the police that you’re back to your old tricks. This phone call has been recorded.”
The bastard burst out laughing, then began to yell and scream into the phone. So much so, she could barely make heads or tails of what he was saying.
“Mmmm hmmm… You have a blessed and prosperous day.”
She quickly disconnected the call, placed the phone down, grabbed her tea, and finished the cup. The music kept playing while her stomach somersaulted. Forcing herself to calm down, she dialed another number.
“Mama?”
“Hi, baby.” The woman yawned.
“Did I wake you, Mama?” English glanced at the clock on her bedroom desk. It was only 8 at night, but her mother wasn’t a stranger to falling asleep in front of the television after dinner.
“I’m up, baby. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing just fine. Is daddy there?”
“Mmm hmmm. You wanna speak to him?”