“Looks like we both have decisions to make.
“Looks that way.”
For lunch, I stop by Muno’s Deli to get a roast beef sandwich, a bag of chips, and unsweetened green tea, then head to Monticello Park. I drift over here mostly because, had I not gone to the range with Zealand this morning, this is where I would’ve been – jogging and taking in the scenery while burning some calories. Right now, I’ll enjoy the park without having to break a sweat. I just take a seat and eat.
The air is crisp. In Christenbury Hills, November can feel like fall or winter due to its close proximity to Black Mountain. Today, it’s more like a fall day. The trees are mostly barren except for the evergreens. The city takes extra care to maintain the grass out here and clean up the leaves, but I don’t mind the foliage. It’s fall. Leaves are supposed to be plentiful, decorating the ground in all their glory. Nature is messy and beautiful at the same time. It resets. Renews. It does this like clockwork, every year, and nothing stops it. But seasons can’t feel what we feel. Can’t experience love. Can’t smell the intoxicating scent of a woman. Can’t—
“My eyes must be deceiving me.”
I hear the familiar voice of the woman I love behind me, interrupting my self-reflection. I turn around to see Cynnamon standing there. Her cousin Evie is a ways behind her on the phone, pacing and overly gesturing.
I twist my body slightly to the left so I can see Cyn and say, “Your eyes are not deceiving you. It’s me in the flesh.”
“Wow. You actually have time to spend at the park. You must be turning a new leaf with this work thing, huh?”
She loves antagonizing me with her beautiful self. I look her up and down from her pretty hair, to her sneakers. She’s wearing a two-piece light mint-colored workout set – the kind of pants that conform to her shape, along with the matching zip-up top. Her hair is tossed up into a ponytail, the way she usually wears it when she’s exercising. She always keeps her body in shape, hence that tiny waist of hers. It’s been a minute since I’ve wrapped my arms around her and swayed from side-to-side in a simple dance. A hug. Shoot – I’d take anything at this point.
I ask, “What are y’all up to on this beautiful day?”
“Not much—just getting my steps in. I have to keep this body tight for my new husband,” she says, slapping her butt.
“Go’on somewhere with that, Cyn. Ain’t no new nothing coming around here.”
She laughs. “You’re funny.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
“Whatever. I came over here to tell you I decided I’ll do your lil’ devious scheme, but by the way you’re acting right now, I may change my mind.”
“How am I acting?”
“Like we’re still a couple.”
“We are. We’re still married, Cyn.”
“For now,” she tosses back, hiking her brows.
I internalize my angst at her antagonistic behavior, sucking it all in. I have to if she’s agreeing to help me with my plan.
Needing a definite answer, I ask, “So, are you in or out?”
“I’m in, but just so you know, I don’t want to do this to your parents. They deserve to know the truth.”
“And they will.”
“When?”
“When the time is right.”
She shakes her head, seemingly out of disappointment. “I’m doing this for them—not you—by the way.”
All I can do is stare, trying to determine how we drifted so far apart that she literally has no regard for my feelings – almost like she never loved me at all. Where’s the empathy? At this point, I don’t think she can even fake-love me in front of my parents. I guess I’m still fortunate that she agreed to it.
“You look nice today,” I tell her, because she does look nice. I missed a million opportunities to tell her that when we were together, but I won’t miss it today.
“Uh–did you hear what I said? I said I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, I heard you, and I understand you’re not doing it for me. Whatever the case, thank you for helping me out.”
