Love… Maybe?


During class one week we needed to create a “Tension” piece. I hate to admit this but this is the first post where I have worked on it for more than one sitting. Everything else I’ve published has really had no thought behind whatever environment I was in at the time. Please let me know what you think in the comment box below, as feedback is always appreciated. Thank you!

I hear the keys jingle as he floats towards the door for the third time this week.

“Have fun,” barely escapes through my clenched jaw. My eyes were almost shut, not interested in making eye contact with him.

“Thanks babe. I won’t be gone too long,” bounces back from behind Carter’s full pink lips exposing his naturally beautiful teeth. He was wearing the denim button up that I just bought for his birthday. It fit him all too well. His camouflage pants are pressed and he has on my favorite red Nikes. I can smell him from our loveless loveseat, Gorgio Armani: Acqua Di Gio. My eyes widen as fast as they return to a nothing but sliver.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You alright?”, he asks while arching his left eyebrow. Standing underneath the kitchen lights, glowing, looking too delicious to be leaving me for his boys. The left part in his bright, tamed, red hair demanding my attention begging that I move them all out of place. His beard is getting long. He could go for a clean-up, but he knows I like when it’s a little rough. There is nothing to fix. Nothing in need of my readjusting. Nothing in need of my touch.

“Mhmmm,” triggers my eyes to roll on command, but they shoot back to him. Standing at 6’2”, it still takes me a while to look him head to toe. If you make it past his eyelashes that create tsunami’s in Hawaii every time he blinks, you can’t disconnect from his bright-green and hazel eyes if you wanted to… You wouldn’t know how toned yet pale his arms are. Or how long the scar is down the center of his chest. Or how his heart makes a tinking sound when it beats. Or about the tucked away tattoo’s that whisper about his life.  Although, I was beginning not to remember any of that myself.

“Ok, what’s that supposed to mean?” strolling in the living room with his head cocked to the side. Finally within my reach as he sits on the arm rest. His cologne says “tackle me”, my ego says “no”, my heart is sad, and my body pissed.

“It means enjoy yourself.”

“You know what I mean smart ass!”. His words and jawline rush past the thick of his beard. My heart is attempting to leap from my chest to his. He continues, “If we’re not doing nothing,” he starts while putting up one finger, “And the guys want to hang,” bringing up finger number two, “What’s the problem?” he quizzes, leaning towards me with both of his palms raised awaiting my answer.

“I miss you.”

“I see you every day, babe.”

“No, I miss you.”

“You could always just come out. You know that.”

“I don’t miss Jason and Donté and DJ and whoever the fuck else. Just you.”

“You been acting weird all day. I really don’t know what you’re really tryna say.”

“But you’re still leaving…”

“I wouldn’t cancel on you, so why would I cancel on my boys?”

“I’m not ya damn boy! I AM YOUR FIANCÉ! I deserve to spend way more time with you! When was the last time we went on a walk? To a movie? I’m not talking about no double-date shit with AJ and his current fling. How about just staying in? We used to cook together every Sunday, watch a movie with a 12-pack and smoke a joint. Do you remember that?”

“Look, Keyana. You should’ve said all of this earlier. Not as I’m half way out the door. I hate when you bottle shit up and then explode on me. How many times have I asked you to talk to me? You must think I’m some kind of mind reader.”

“You’re never h—“

“Did I interrupt you??”

“Carter! I’m lonely!” Just like that, without so much as a kiss, or an I love you, the front door closes behind him.

New Text from Hubby: We can talk when I get home.

Reply: Sure.

Outgoing Text: Hey, you up?

Incoming: Never sleeping on you

Outgoing: Pick me up?

Incoming: On my way


Always a Distraction

I’ve realized, lately my biggest worries have consisted of whether I choose between Barnes & Noble or Caribou to sit and people watch and act as though I’m getting a little work done. I generally end up at B&N because it offers more for me to get distracted with. So many more people coming and going, the sounds of the barista’s talking about what sales pitch they should use or go back to, the babies throwing tantrums and the mom that’s either freaking out while somehow trying to coax the child to calm down because everyone else is quiet or the mom that I happen to catch giving the kid the look and the young but intelligent child pulls it together quickly. Well, today I found myself in the parking lot of Caribou before I realized that I confirmed my decision. I could always go for a Turtle Mocha, it’s a bit nippy out & its my for sure drink when there. This visit I get to spy in on an older lady’s conversation. She is starting to gray but you can still tell that she was once a young brunette with huge bouncy curls flowing down her back everyday effortlessly. Her medium sized gold hoops that peek out from under her now loosely wound curls ask me if they sit well on her, and I tell them, “this time it’s ok, you look great on her”. I appreciate the kindness of them for not yelling at me the moment I saw her and waiting until they were spotted to gently introduce themselves and then introduce her face. Very subtle with just the right amount of make-up. I can tell that she has been aging very well, like the one friend that’s never had a nail break in her entire life. As the lady completed her order with the barista, she was informed that she had a measly 30 cents left on her gift card that she never used. Oddly enough she found it hilarious. Whatever drink she ordered was mighty expensive because she went with the smallest size with a total higher than mines. I’m sure she will tell her husband about this visit. I don’t just assume that because she already stated she would to the barista. The barista, Konnor was kind to comfort the lady about the stingy gift card and laugh it off with her while still politely reminding her of the remaining total due.

I had the hardest time picking a spot. Do I sit by a window to stare at all the cars and examine  the latest models amongst the brands, do I sit at a stool so I can work on my posture while I jab away at my smooth marble designed keypad, or do I pick the big comfy chairs rounding the fire place that speak to you the moment you walk in to join them for a while. Since they talked a smooth game I go with the warm chairs that I knew I sink into the moment we met each other’s touch.. I check and my laptop and it’s on 60%, so it’s not something I had to contemplate long about, there were outlets around them and that says that they have been waiting for me. I take my seat and have to examine my scenery once more. Then I’m introduced to my audience. A caramel complected, slim, six-legged creature who also thought the window seat was a great option. I wasn’t expecting to have company and I try to convince the little guy to sit-in with someone else. He doesn’t flinch as I lightly smack my hand against the wooden window pane not far from him. I have never been one that looked for a fight so I give him his cameo on my social media page anout his bravery and I decide to change seats. I felt rude turning my back against him, but I was uncomfortable with the ultimately unwanted guest. As I start to finally unpack my things and get ready to write in the quest to sound like a long time author, I can’t help but turn around and keep checking on him. He stays near me for at least 10 minutes before he decides he has better things to do and disappears. He could have at least said good-bye.

Deep within thought and worded action, I have another undesirable visitor. This one no one can see, not even me but I feel his presence, which allows others to hear that he is here. Or maybe they don’t care and choose to ignore which is something I find hard to accept. He’s very small, obnoxious, rude and has a horrible sense of timing. I try to ignore him but I have yet to win this battle! He begins to become more objectionable and works harder at his menacing deeds. I think he carries that loathsome feather with him where ever he travels. He initiated the up and down movement ever so delicately just to let you know that he has arrived and anxious to play chicken. I let out a poorly sounding cough in reaction to his actions and choose to go on about my business. In disfavor of my response, he goes at it again. Moving that wretched feather up and down like some kind of cartoon maniac. He does it with such perfection to achieve the goal he hopes for and I begin to cough again,  back to back, louder and louder until my eyes water. I know that they are reddening due to the water starting to form in them. I abruptly stop my work, close all my things and make my way to the restroom. The locked door tells me many things, but two of them being that someone is in there and no telling how long she will be. He goes at it again with the feather, but not as ignorant as just previously. My eyes are still feeling glossy and watery. I try to ignore it by  making sure not to engage in eye contact with any one. The men’s bathroom just to the right of me sneers loudly. I doubt that it’s currently being occupied since I have not seen anything but a handful of males here, if that. I almost reach for the door handle but decide against the temptation. Thankfully the young lady leaves the restroom and I am relieved, also because it didn’t smell foul. Oh, I really wouldn’t be able to deal with that right now. I proceed with my restroom duties that I didn’t know I need to fulfill, read the typical “Employees must wash hands” sign and wonder why they need to be reminded of that but I’m glad they are as I exit the restroom. I hope that by the time I get back to my seat two things happen. One, all my shit is exactly how I left it and two, that the menacing midget with the feather that tickles my throat to make me cough like an asshole has decided to leave. At least for an hour or so. Please.

I’m not ungrateful and I accept one out of two. All of my things are accounted for as I do the quick pat and check so I haven’t been robbed. However I feel the troll that lives somewhere in body begin to approach his place and get back to work. As calm as I can for someone who is having a cough attack, I pack up all my things, never mind putting my jacket on due to time constraints and speed walk back to my car.