and wondered if all the luxuries she had were worth the burning feeling lining her stomach.
Never had Evan begged a man—any man—let alone her husband, to make love to her—at least not until last night. Kendu had told her that they needed to talk. But she couldn’t bear to listen. She didn’t want to face what his actions had already said. He didn’t love her, didn’t want her, and she wasn’t good enough to change his mind. So instead of listening she had kneeled before him, slid down his chest, and filled her mouth.
To fight off the anxiety heightened by the mixed emotions she felt, Evan took a bottle of Vicodin from her purse and popped two in her mouth.
The Vicodin always calmed her, but the fact that she needed a pill to do that made her feel as if she was less than perfect and more like a beautiful freak. Three years ago after a failed suicide attempt, where Evan slit her wrist and was prescribed Vicodin forthe physical pain and lithium, which she took, off and on, for the mental, she quickly became addicted to the cocktail high.
Evan continued to stare in the mirror. Her heart raced, and instead of seeing her own reflection she saw her mother’s face. Instantly her mother’s voice filled her head: “I hate you! You and your young pussy wanna take my husband away from me!”
“He makes me do it,” Evan responded to her mother’s voice, while pressing her fingers deeply into her temples.
“You’re lying!” her mother’s voice responded. “You wanted it, because you think you’re better than me! But you ain’t shit! And you’ll never be more than a whore!”
“Stop it!” Evan shook her head feverishly and wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. She looked around the bathroom, and made sure the voice was only in her head, especially since her mother had long been dead.
Evan pushed herself away from the sink and lit a cigarette. She tried to clear her mind, but as soon as the flashback of her mother left, the disarray with Kendu took over her thoughts. She eased smoke from the corner of her mouth and watched it do an evaporating dance.
I have to swallow the fucked-up feeling and handle my business
, she thought.
Besides, I have this … it doesn’t have me. And if that fails, then fuck it. I’ll lay down the law and let him know
—she anxiously took a toke—
that at the end of the day I don’t need a man …
She released the smoke.
All I need is to stay black and die … Shit
—she gave a slight chuckle as she sucked the butt of her cigarette—
I already told him I’m tired of feeling like the only one loving me is me. And if he wants to leave, then I’ll gladly open the door and watch his ass disappear into the elements
.
Evan took one last pull off her cigarette before walking over to the toilet, dropping the burning butt into the water, and listening to the hiss of the dying flame before flushing it away.
She popped a stick of gum into her mouth, cracked the door open, and caught the smell of the burning food she had left on the stovetop half an hour ago.
Once in the kitchen she looked at Kendu, who sat on the sectional in the den area of the kitchen, sipping a cup of java and reading the morning paper. “What’s your problem? You can’t smell and shit?” she snapped. “If you would stop being so cheap and giving the chef every other weekend off, I wouldn’t have to deal with this cooking shit.”
Instead of responding, Kendu rattled the paper and flipped a page.
“I know you’re not ignoring me.” Evan shook her head. This was not what she had planned. Already her emotions had her going against her “be calm” constitution.
Kendu didn’t budge; instead he continued what he was doing.
Evan hated to be ignored; it enraged her and she felt she was slowly unraveling out of control. Her head was spinning and her mind kept telling her to relax. She walked over to the refrigerator, removed the orange juice, and set it on the counter.
“Evan,”
Never had Evan begged a man—any man—let alone her husband, to make love to her—at least not until last night. Kendu had told her that they needed to talk. But she couldn’t bear to listen. She didn’t want to face what his actions had already said. He didn’t love her, didn’t want her, and she wasn’t good enough to change his mind. So instead of listening she had kneeled before him, slid down his chest, and filled her mouth.
To fight off the anxiety heightened by the mixed emotions she felt, Evan took a bottle of Vicodin from her purse and popped two in her mouth.
The Vicodin always calmed her, but the fact that she needed a pill to do that made her feel as if she was less than perfect and more like a beautiful freak. Three years ago after a failed suicide attempt, where Evan slit her wrist and was prescribed Vicodin forthe physical pain and lithium, which she took, off and on, for the mental, she quickly became addicted to the cocktail high.
Evan continued to stare in the mirror. Her heart raced, and instead of seeing her own reflection she saw her mother’s face. Instantly her mother’s voice filled her head: “I hate you! You and your young pussy wanna take my husband away from me!”
“He makes me do it,” Evan responded to her mother’s voice, while pressing her fingers deeply into her temples.
“You’re lying!” her mother’s voice responded. “You wanted it, because you think you’re better than me! But you ain’t shit! And you’ll never be more than a whore!”
“Stop it!” Evan shook her head feverishly and wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. She looked around the bathroom, and made sure the voice was only in her head, especially since her mother had long been dead.
Evan pushed herself away from the sink and lit a cigarette. She tried to clear her mind, but as soon as the flashback of her mother left, the disarray with Kendu took over her thoughts. She eased smoke from the corner of her mouth and watched it do an evaporating dance.
I have to swallow the fucked-up feeling and handle my business
, she thought.
Besides, I have this … it doesn’t have me. And if that fails, then fuck it. I’ll lay down the law and let him know
—she anxiously took a toke—
that at the end of the day I don’t need a man …
She released the smoke.
All I need is to stay black and die … Shit
—she gave a slight chuckle as she sucked the butt of her cigarette—
I already told him I’m tired of feeling like the only one loving me is me. And if he wants to leave, then I’ll gladly open the door and watch his ass disappear into the elements
.
Evan took one last pull off her cigarette before walking over to the toilet, dropping the burning butt into the water, and listening to the hiss of the dying flame before flushing it away.
She popped a stick of gum into her mouth, cracked the door open, and caught the smell of the burning food she had left on the stovetop half an hour ago.
Once in the kitchen she looked at Kendu, who sat on the sectional in the den area of the kitchen, sipping a cup of java and reading the morning paper. “What’s your problem? You can’t smell and shit?” she snapped. “If you would stop being so cheap and giving the chef every other weekend off, I wouldn’t have to deal with this cooking shit.”
Instead of responding, Kendu rattled the paper and flipped a page.
“I know you’re not ignoring me.” Evan shook her head. This was not what she had planned. Already her emotions had her going against her “be calm” constitution.
Kendu didn’t budge; instead he continued what he was doing.
Evan hated to be ignored; it enraged her and she felt she was slowly unraveling out of control. Her head was spinning and her mind kept telling her to relax. She walked over to the refrigerator, removed the orange juice, and set it on the counter.
“Evan,”
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