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CHAPTER 9

 

Can we talk please?

Instead of replying to his text message, I scrolled to the top of my contact list and pressed call.

He barely let his phone ring once before he answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I'm okay.”

There was an awkward pause. I heard him sigh.

My heart ached to be close to him but a quick reminder of the complacency he was treating our relationship with, intensified the nonchalant attitude I needed to get through our conversation.

“You're still mad at me.”

“Obviously.”

“How can I fix this?”

“You know how you just don't want to.”

“Okay.”

His one-word response was not a good way to keep me unpissed. “Okay?!”

“I'm not about to get into an argument with you Luciana. I don't purposely not talk to you when you want me to but I have a lot going on, that's something you're going to have to accept for this relationship to work.”

“I only required one hour of your time Angelo and you're acting as if I tried to steal all of your time away.”

His voice this time seemed rather impatient with me. “You can't expect me to be at your beck and call whenever you want to talk to me.”

At this point, I'd had it.

“Are you kidding me right now? You have the gall to act like you're doing me a favour when you choose to talk to me. I'm sorry Mr. President, since talking to me is such an inconvenience I'll let you carry on with the more important things on your agenda. Have a great night.”

“It's always one thing or another with you, honestly you need to get over your daddy issues.”

My thumb froze on the “End Call' button as Angelo's words drilled a deeper hole into my heart.

For a second silence was heard on both ends. He was about to witness the strength of an angry black woman.

“Don't you ever out of your fucking mouth talk about my father again. I don't want to marry a dickhead such as yourself. Since you love yourself so much you should go fuck yourself too.”

Without waiting to hear a response I ended the call and subsequently blocked Angelo Leo Henriquez's phone number and deleted him off Skype.

My blood was boiling. My actions were a little to the extreme and dramatic but in that moment I was possessed by ravaging heat.

After throwing my phone at a random direction on my bed I stared at the wooden closet a little distance from me, too numb to do anything.

It was in total confidence I had admitted it to him about my father's past after his uncle presumed Angelo already knew and had made a random remark to him about my father being the one to inspire him to hire ex-prisoners to help them reintegrate back into society.

I never really wanted Angelo to know because I never, if it ever came to it (and it obviously did), want him to punch my weakness.

The conversation had gone in a direction, I never ever expected it to go. Looking down on my legging-clad laps, through blurred vision slow drops of tears were landing on my thighs.

Angelo was the last person I thought would hurt me like this.

Flashbacks to all those times I rushed back home from school and locked myself in my bedroom because that was my only escape route out of this world, appeared in my mind.

Back to all those years when my father was incarcerated, I remember how several times when I looked at Bobby innocently playing alone on the floor with his toys I cried because he was growing up without a father and he had become a statistic.

I cried because my mother had practically become a single mother, and she too was a statistic. She was dealing with the mess my father left her with, working back to back for weeks on end, and never having time to enjoy life.

I cried because I had no friends.

I cried because all the joy and simplicity of my childhood was suddenly ripped away without an adjustment period.

It was just: Luciana we're moving. You have to change schools. You can't see your father. You can't go on that school trip who's going to take care of Bobby.

From the little known facts I knew of my father's money laundering charges, apparently he'd lied to my mother about being done with it, and my mother believed him until the police were at the door with a warrant for my father's arrest.

My mother had punished him by moving us away purposely, but also because we needed to downsize from the house we lived in.

I cried because my father had become a statistic too. My whole family had been a statistic of a broken African-American family, and I could only say it is by God's grace that we got a second chance of being a family again.

Thinking of that time in my first year of highschool when in desperate need of attention, I had worn an unflattering mini-skirt and turtle-neck crop-top, and walked through the halls of my school, people had openly laughed at the way my thighs rubbed together, and the way my visible belly danced over my top.

For the whole day I suffocated in embarassment - actually that's a lie. I didn't make it to lunch before I ran home crying.

And because the relationship between my mother and I had been barely tolerable, and our communication non-existent, I couldn't open up to her.

And for those several years I resented my father. Right at the time I needed him, he couldn't help. Being a teenager during that time in true teenage rebellion spirit, I wrote sporadic letters to him and basically distanced myself until the memory of him was fading day by day.

And because in those early years my mother held much resentment for my father's actions she didn't encourage me to keep in regular contact either.

So I was alone - except for that one time in my second year of highschool.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I grabbed my phone from where I threw it to tell Dominica I was not going out clubbing later as we'd planned previously.

Knowing that if I called her, there was a high chance I'd break down in tears I sent her a quick message instead to tell her I had period pains.

Bitch, you are crazy. You are coming out tonight. I didn't come all the way from Paris for you to not go out with me.

That was Dominica's reply. I was in no mood to be in a place full of sweaty drunk people, indulging in a few moments of pleasure.

I felt empty. I tried to speak to God but I couldn't. All I could do was replay Angelo's vicious words until it was time to pick up Pepito and Candela from school.

Thankfully on the car ride back home they didn't cause much trouble. Seeing their interaction only made me miss my brother even more.

My parents were still refusing to give Bobby a phone because they believed he was too young even though there were new-born babies walking around with tablets.

I was tempted to get Bobby a phone for Christmas and make him keep it a secret.

Shortly after we got home and the kids had ate and done their homework, their parents returned from work and I was finally relieved.

All I wanted to do was just curl up in my bed and cry some more but at about nine in the evening, the kids' mother told me there was someone downstairs asking for me.

It was Dominica.

She was pretty intimidating when she was determined to get something done so when she gave me five minutes to pick a dress and meet her back in the taxi I didn't put up a fight.

It was phantom energy I was using to operate because I was completely numb inside out and I needed UV rays to defrost me.

Sensing that I was not in a talking mood, the ride to her house was a quiet one. I felt partly bad that I hadn't seen her in two months and I was in a shitty mood.

Talking about what happened to Dom meant admitting that she was right. And I didn't need that. She wasn't exactly supporting of my long-distance relationship.

My phone started vibrating and I reached into my bag to fish it out. Seeing an unknown caller ID I dropped my phone back into my bag.

When we reached Dom's apartment, her family were present. A modest three-bedroom apartment which she shared with her two younger sisters, her female cousin, her aunt and her mother, so there was a lot of feminine energy floating about.

The Cape Verdeans, as per all Africans, are very lively people. The way they spat their Creole – Portuguese at each other was borderline intimidating and it was clear to see why Dominica was such a feisty character.

After Dom introduced me to her family, both her mother and aunt each took turns to give me hugs that really did the trick to release some much needed oxytocin.

Dom had to drag me away from them, not that I was really complaining they seemed like genuine people but Dom was eager to get her night out started.

Following her into her room that she shared with her sisters, she told me to make myself comfortable. The only place in the room not covered by clothes or other junk was the chair infront of the dresser so I sat there.

She closed the door and when I looked into her dominating gaze I could tell she was going to start her interrogation.

“This night is supposed to be fun. I cannot have fun if you're face looks like that. What is going on? And period pains is obviously not the truth.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Is it your boyfriend?”

“I said, I don't want to talk about it Dominica, it's none of your business!”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted the harshness in my tone. She was just doing what a friend does but her pushiness I had no patience for.

Taking a deep sigh, watching her face contort into a unholy scowl, I pressed quick with my apology. “I'm sorry Dom but if I'm going to talk about it, I'm going to start crying and me crying means us not going out.”

Her displeased expression eased a little at my explanation and thankfully for me she had already put the matter behind her, as she pointed in the overnight bag on my lap.

“Let me see what you're wearing.”

Dominica ended up voiding the two choices of outfits I'd taken along. Honestly if it was left up to me I'd probably end up dressed in pyjamas and turn up to the club with no shame.

Luckily we both were similar build so I could fit into her peach coloured jumpsuit. It was a little tighter for me around the waist, and my feminine features were definitely more prominent i.e. breasts, butt, and dare I say it, a very faint outline of camel toe showing.

I did not feel comfortable wearing it and I let Dom know this but she waved me off as she grabbed her purse for us to leave.

“Mami, trust me you look good. I'm going to be on cock-blocking duty tonight.”






Chapter End Notes:

 

Happy New Year everyone! I wish everyone abundance of blessings in 2017.

A quick update: Both Beignet and The Entitled Girl chapters will be uploaded the same time as when I upload them on Radish. Makes more sense that way for you and I.

The first blog post of the year is up. Here's the link:http://theefectivetimes.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/efes-thoughts-in-january.html

Have a good day and God Bless :-)







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.