one shots

shorty swing my way [19]

may 1999
friday
7:48 pm

"Soooo, what you're telling me is that he's still in love with this girl?" Sheila asked as we drank wine.
I shrugged, glancing down at my engagement ring.

"Renée," she sighed.
"Don't start, She," I warned before sipping from my glass.
"You know your heart can't be in two places at once, right?" she started anyway.

I rolled my eyes while reaching toward the wine bottle on my coffee table.

"He can't be completely emotionally available for you if his heart is with another woman—"
"I never said he was still in love with her," I mumbled while refilling my glass up to its rim.
"You never said he wasn't," she retorted.

It grew quiet between us, my beloved R&B music filling the void that our dialogue previously occupied. I drank from my glass, finishing it off before I realized how far back my head was tilted in order to chug the red alcohol. Her eyes burned through me, my heart and vulnerability becoming more and more exposed the longer she stared.

"You deserve better, Nay," she shook her head, her tone sounding as if she were disappointed in me for staying with D.

"I deserve not to be badgered about my love life, Sheila. Okay? DeAndré takes care of me. That's what I deserve," I finally met her gaze.

"You deserve honesty and security. This lil' Mary Jane character shouldn't have even been a problem. You shouldn't have even been put in the position to doubt your relationship— not even for a second. . . You shouldn't have to ask him for the truth or force it out of him. You should've known about Mary Jane. You should've known that he was engaged before and that he was technically married bef—"

"Are you done?" I interrupted.

She glared at me as if she couldn't believe that I had the audacity to be so rude.

"You know what?" she stood and began gathering her belongings.
"What?" I stood as well, challenging her as I got in her face a little.

"Yo' stupid ass is too damn blind to see what the fuck is going on, and you don't wanna' see either so I don't even know why I try," she shook her head and looked at me like I was nothing.

"I don't know why you try either. . . I can take care of myself, Sheila. Alright?" I reiterated myself.
"Whatever, Nay. Don't call me when he finally traps yo' ass and leaves you stuck," she muttered while pushing past me.

I gripped onto her wrist just as she was about to head towards the door. She glanced down at my hand before her eyes met mine.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I inquired.
"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes and began to pull her wrist from my grip.
"I'm serious," I caught her hand just as she got her wrist from my hold.

She stared at me for a moment before sighing deeply and setting her belongings back down.

"Girl. . . This man bought a puppy after y'all broke up," she started off.
"Okay?" I shrugged.
"What's the reason he gave you for buying Sway?"
"So, I'd still have to see him even if I don't want to," I replied.

"The nigga already doesn't respect your space because he thinks it's his too. Didn't he break into your house?" she reasoned.

"Sheila—"

"And then, if you don't wanna' see him or talk to him, he should respect that. You should be entitled to your own space and time away from him. You shouldn't be obligated to do what he wants. Did he even ask you how you felt about having a dog before he just brought one to your house?" she inquired.