”Shannon, baby, let’s just talk.”
“I’m done talking. I’ll talk when all of you motherfuckers are dead.”
“Walks on the river?”
I remembered seeing that written somewhere in the journal. I just couldn’t remember where, so I flipped through the book to see if there was a connection. I was about to give up until I came across Shio’s handwriting. I knew it was his handwriting because it was so different from his father’s, and I’d seen it on many of the papers in his office.
Things to Do with My Wife
Walks on the river
A city of my choice for 48 hours
Visits to wineries
Take her to where I come from
Dinner at the best steakhouses on random days
Lo
Boom Boom BoomBoom Boom
The book slipped from my hands, falling on the side of the toilet.
“Shit!”
The banging on the door startled me, and my nerves rattled. Swiping the book from the floor, I closed it, opened the cabinet underneath the sink, and stuffed it behind a bottle of cleaning solution.
Boom Boom Boom
“Who is it?” I yelled from the bathroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, I gave myself a quick once-over. Ever since Shio had come by, I’d made more effort with my appearance. The closet wasn’t full of clothes like it was back at his house, but the drawers did have plenty of lounge wear, and many of them still had tags. I washed my hair after Shio left and plaited it into ten braids. Once the braids dried, I took themout, and my hair was now puffy and wavy, instead of my usual matted ball. Today, I wore a green-and-tan striped tube top and matching pants. I went braless because it was more comfortable, and the tube top worked fine without it. I could use a pedicure since the Shellac on my toes was beginning to grow out, so I had on a pair of tan fuzzy socks. Satisfied with my look, I turned off the bathroom light and entered the bedroom, which was still tidy from when Mahzeyah had cleaned it. The trash was overflowing with food bags and needed to be taken out, though. The bed wasn’t made either, but everything else was in place.
“Who is it?” I asked again.
It didn’t matter who it was, anyway, because I couldn’t let them in. The door was locked from the outside, and only two people that I knew of had a key. Remembering I had the perfume Shio brought over, I picked it up from the dresser, drenched myself in it, and turned around to spray the sheets. I then fanned the air so it wouldn’t look like I’d just sprayed it. As soon as the mist settled, a shudder ran down my spine in memory of the day Shio came into my makeshift rehab.
Would he use his mouth again? Would he let me use mine?
The moment I had stopped craving Shio, he did things to my body that made me crave him worse than before.
“Italian! Italian?!” someone shouted on the other side.
Drawing my head back, I walked to the door, pressing my ear against it. It wasn’t Shio, but the voice was muffled. The steel was cool on my face, but I stayed still, trying to recognize the voice as they yelled again.
“Italian! Open this door!”
“Yeah, open the door!”
“And why it smell like smoke in here? Who been sleeping on my couch?”
The door groaned before the lock clicked as I stepped back. When it opened, a rush of cool air spilled in. I knew the voicewasn’t Shio’s, but he wasn’t standing with the crowd staring at me. My heart hurt at the realization.
“Dasani?” I asked.
Dasani was hopping around while hunched over.
