And just like that, I was booked for a date with the doctor.
chapter two.
brix
[back to present time]
Tonight, I getoff my shift at eight. I’m usually so drained after work that I scarf down a meal and go straight to bed.
Not today.
I need to talk to Cyn, and she’s actively avoiding my calls. I know she’s home by now, so I send her a text:
You’re not at work anymore. You can talk now, right?
I sigh heavily, sitting on the bed where I’ve slept alone since January. Nothing reminds me how much I screwed up with Cynnamon like this empty king-sized bed. I think about all the nights she laid here without me – nights I worked late, took on extra shifts, filled in for doctors who had to call out. I was being Super Doctor to the community, dedicating all my time and energy to it, and not pouring into her. Not giving her my all. Instead, I gave her what was left of me, which was hardly nothing, and she finally had enough. It was not like that in the beginning.
Years ago, before we started dating – when I had run into her that day at the park and asked her to meet me for dinner, I didn’tthink she would come. This was the same woman who didn’t call me after I paid for her dinner on a whim. Granted, she didn’t know me. I was being my usual charismatic self. I wanted to impress her, and she was eating alone, so I dropped a hundred on the table and gave her my number. She didn’t call, so I knew her chances of meeting me for dinner were slim. But when she walked into the restaurant that day with a little purse tucked under her arms, wearing that knee-length royal blue dress that hugged her curves, I knew she would be the woman I would marry.
She didn’t know it yet.
I did.
Don’t ask me how. It was just a feeling – something I had never experienced with anyone else. All the signs pointed to Cyn as my future. The woman who would bear my children. The woman I would build a life with. All that and I didn’t even know her last name yet. Whatever it was, it would eventually change to LaSalle.
And it did.
Five months later, to be exact.
I wasn’t playing games. I wanted what I wanted, and she wanted me just as much. We married, made love every time our eyes connected, took trips, made love some more, planned fun dates, made love even more. We were inseparable. Now, we can hardly string five words together when we see each other. She moved out and rented an apartment down by Monticello Park, which, ironically, is the place where we got married. And I’m left in this five-bedroom home.
Alone.
My hand slides down the length of my face as I release a sharp breath. Cyn still hasn’t responded to my text, so I try to call one more time before I lie down to rest.
“What is it, Brixton?” she answers. “I’m getting ready for bed.”
I don’t even mind the attitude. I’m just glad she picked up.
“Going to bed already? It’s only nine o’clock.”
“Your point? Tomorrow is Tuesday. It’s a normal workday for me. And Iknowyou’re going to work. It’s your whole existence. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised you aren’t there right now. Or, are you hiding in the supply room or something?”
“No. I’m home.”
She tsks. “That’s a first. So, let’s see–you wait until I move out to be home. I guess I was the problem, then, huh?”
“Hey, I didn’t call to start this up again.”
“Then why exactly are you on my line?”
“Okay, so hear me out before you say anything, okay? Can you do that?”
“I’m not making any promises,” she says.
I can imagine her arms are crossed. Forehead creased. Lips pursed.
“Cyn…”
