Synopsis: Yona confides in a new bestie about her philandering boyfriend and learns no one is ever who they seem to be.
“So tell me again what happened?” Melody crossed her legs over her bed and flipped back her now short cut bobbed blonde hair.
I started from the beginning, feeling piping hot anger all over at what Otis did to me.
” I came home early—”
My phone vibrated against my thigh, cutting me off.
Melody shook her head at the phone in my hand. This will make ten calls Otis has made now.
I shut off my phone before continuing with the sad details from 48 hours ago.
I don’t know why I’m torturing myself. Reliving those moments of arriving at Otis’s apartment after my Zumba class off campus. I was excited about our Taco Tuesday since I burned off enough calories to replace it a little.
Instead of knocking, I finally used the house key he had copied for me, and as soon as my gym bag hit the plush carpet, I heard squeaky bed noises upstairs. There was music playing too, but not too loud.
I close the door firmly.
That was when the noise kicked up in crescendo and I hear the unmistakable keening of a satisfied woman.
I stomp up the steps wishing to God I had my switchblade. I will just have to use my knuckles instead.
Otis bursts from the room. I catch a glimpse of a long, creamy thigh hanging off his bed, rear-end high up but face down.
He slams the door and comes fully out, he tries to reason with me.
I smack his face so hard the print of my hand lingers crimson on that fine face of his.
I try my hardest to get to the door and see the chick who has replaced me so I can hit her as well but Otis, along with a string of apologies from his fat lips, picks me up like I weigh no more than a pamphlet, and carries me downstairs kicking and screaming.
Once he sets me down, I stare at his ripped body and black military cut hair. He was so beautiful.
And so not mine anymore.
“Yona…” He pleads.
I hold up a hand. “Save it. Just. Save it. I’m tired.” I run from his apartment. He calls my name.
The only thing I could see in my mind, was a female’s a red overworked butt with a black spider tattoo on the lower back.
I drove off to nowhere and somewhere for a whole damn two days. They went by in a panoramic blur: I drank in bars(I’m 21, okay?), I remembered partying, talking to dudes, passing out then waking up in someone’s car.
A stranger brought me to campus in my own car. Some dude who I remember crying on his shoulders and who kept telling me “It will be alright. It will be okay.” The scent of Doublemint gum and Irish Spring still lingers in my foggy mind.
As soon as he dropped me off last night, I puked out my guts and sorrow, showered and passed out.
I was asleep until Melody walked in from her English Lit course.
The only person I can put all this junk story on was the prissy, super smart Melody who proclaimed she hated all men.
When I was done telling her my sob, drunken story, she shook her head in sympathy. “You’ll find a new man soon.”
Her phone pinged and whatever she saw on the screen, caused her eyes to bug out and the phone ended up slipping to the floor with a hard thud.
When she leaned over the bed to get it. I saw the spider tattoo with its long webbing…dark and mocking.
Inched its dark webbing deep into my murderous heart.
No way there would be two girls with the exact same spider tattoo…
I sigh. Dammit.
I tried to make it one more year without getting locked up.
“Melodyyyy?” I say in a sing-song voice. “Did I mention the description of the girl who slept with my man?”
Melody sat up holding her phone with visibly shaking hands.
I cracked my knuckles, rotated my arms and shoulders.
At least this way, I will get a more effective workout…
Copyright© 2017 Erica Jean Smith
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