falling in leaves

fifty seven

"apart"

I was living with Keisha, back at square one. I've kinda missed it here— the ambiance, the warm colors that plagued the home's decor, the bittersweet nature of Keisha— it made me feel waves of nostalgia every time I arrived home.

I remember first moving here, thinking New York would solve all my problems. I remember setting my bags down and meeting Key for the first time. At this point, I'd only heard stories about the adventures she and Sweets would share. Meeting her was like meeting that cousin you always heard stories about but never met for one reason or another.

We shook hands and she showed me to my room before giving me a brief tour of the apartment. After that, she took me to get some Italian ice while guiding me around the neighborhood. She warned me of do's and don't's, especially if I'd end up roaming the streets at night. Most of it was common sense, but other things had never even crossed my mind. One instance was wearing a backpack while in line, depending on where you were. It was easy to get pickpocketed, especially if your valuables are at the back of your mind and the back of your anatomy.

I thanked her for taking me out, and she told me not to mention it. She said that she was usually mean to people, but as long as I didn't disturb her rest or her peace, I wouldn't have to worry about her "mean nature." Upon meeting Juwan, I definitely started to get on the annoying end of the spectrum for roommates, but thankfully, I wasn't bad enough to where she wouldn't let me move back in with her.

In fact, I was probably better this time around because I had no man to entertain. Although, it sounded peaceful, it was rather lonely, especially considering that Keisha was always over Rashad's. I wondered why they didn't just move in together, but I figured I was the last person needed to comment on them moving in together since I moved in with Juwan after less than a month of us being together.

What was I thinking then? What were either of us thinking? It all sounded so stupid in hindsight. I didn't know this man— surely, not well enough to move in.

I sighed deeply at the thought. So it goes.

I spent many nights tossing and turning, my despair haunting me. I wished I was with Marlo. I yearned for the warmth of another. I fought myself on various occasions on whether I should call Juwan or not. I didn't need much, just a night to sleep over.

I briefly thought about Romeo. He'd still stop by the salon every blue moon to drop off or pick up Val from her hair appointments. Sure, it was quite awkward every time we'd catch eye contact, especially since I have a place at the front desk now. . . but I would always catch myself stealing glances of him. He's remained attractive during our time apart, but I knew better than to rekindle whatever we had going.

I mean— there was no real reason we ended. We were becoming friends, at a point, but I couldn't trust him. I was too far gone into my post-relationship paranoia— how guys only wanted one thing. How Romeo was only being my friend so he'd have the earliest opportunity to get in my pants, whenever I got over Juwan. I still believe that was his intent, but I began caring less and less with each passing day.