MAD BLACK WOMAN

KARMA

mAtURe cOnTENT

Élan thinks to himself, how can he feel this way?

He was just tired with this girl, upset, sickened by her and because of her, but now he has the audacity to wonder where she is, where she's going, what she's thinking, what she's doing. He is wondering all these things despite being the person who singlehandedly suggested he move out not too long ago.

It's the image of her laughing with that guy, the one who looked nothing like him, floating around in his mind that has him like this. That nameless dinner date has his mind in shambles, for he wonders just how interested Nanti truly is in him. If it's the same person she leaves at the same time every night to meet.

And of course, popping up like a Jack-in-the-Box is the demanding, horrifying question: is she fucking him?

If so, is she enjoying it?

With Faye, at work, on the desk, it seemed so right. Like he finally had the upper hand on the pain Nanti was causing him from her iciness and distance and negligence and depression; when she found out about it, her hurting him and fighting him felt like she was fighting for him, them. The heat of her anger was so refreshing against the biting winter that was her indifference, it defrosted his bones, but eventually that anger charred him. Remaining from the fire were ashes, just ashes, and though Élan gets up everyday, he's only a step from falling back down.

She returns earlier this time, he's home in the loft, ready to greet her, though it's more of an examination.

If she is fucking him, she doesn't have a hair out of place so the sex must not be that good. Her perfume hasn't wavered or been broken by a cologne. There are no teeth marks in her lovely flesh.

They haven't talked to each other in days, since one is always determined to leave the other in loneliness only to watch from a distance, but he breaks the tradition and says, "where were you?" Attempting to sound as non accusatory as possible. It doesn't work.

"Out."

"With?"

"Tamia." Peridot is watching him with eyes narrowed and his furry little head perched upon his paws. He rolls his eyes.

"Does Tamia know that?"

"Are you accusing me of going out with someone else?" She asks with a raised brow and her arms interlaced under her cleavage.

"Should I?"

"I'm not doing this with you, Élan," she attempts to walk passed him but he grabs her by the arm, looks down on her as if he will pry out information even if he has to take a can opener to her mouth on the subject.

"Answer me. I said should I?"

She looks up at him through her lashes, his hand still firmly encircling her arm. "No."

"Good."

"Afraid I'll do what you did?"

Élan contemplates this question, feeling guilty because of Faye and Barry and how it seems that he's going in circles with Nanti. His silence sits on his shoulder like it has room to, but truly it weighs him down.

She takes her arm back and is about to walk behind him to the bedroom but he says, "who is he?" With his eyes to the floor and his back still turned.

"Who?"

"The guy. From the other day. Your lunch date."

"Aren't you tired of this? Of the tit for tat. Aren't you exhausted from chasing after me this week then I'll be chasing after you the next? It's not working anymore."