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“Myla!” he called. “Myla, are you dressed?”

At the sound of her name coming from his mouth, Myla cringed. Every nerve ending in her body screamed. Never in her life had she ever been this frazzled. Her hands shook and her stomach filled with nervous energy that made her run to the hallway bathroom.

“Why is this happening to me?” Myla asked as she released her nervous energy into the toilet. It felt like she excreted pounds of waste. Myla was exhausted.

Every ounce of energy had been zapped from her body. She could only remember one time in her entire life that she felt as drained as she did now. Back then, she had no idea what was causing her energy depletion. She didn’t have to wonder this time. She knew exactly what was latching onto her like a leech and sucking the very essence from her being.

“Did you hear me calling you? Get dressed. We need to go,” Dante said as he opened the closed bathroom door.

He didn’t care about invading her privacy or why she had rushed to the bathroom, nor was he concerned with the dark circles and hollowness beneath her eyes. His only concern was showing up.

“I heard you. I’m just not feeling the best. Maybe you can go without me,” Myla suggested.

She didn’t understand what this event was for because she had discovered that his entire real estate venture was a sham. She had worked hard for her degrees and did not want to be mixed up in whatever it was that he was involved in.

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK HOW YOU FEEL!” Dante’s voice boomed so loudly that Myla screamed.

She had just released what seemed like five pounds of waste, ; now she felt as though she had to go again. The way that Dante’s face contorted terrified her. She tried hard to keep the waste that was peeking out in, but try as she might, she felt like she was losing the battle. Myla wanted to speak, but she was trembling so hard that her words would not form.

“After all the shit I do for you. I pay all the bills in this motherfucking house, buy the food, and help clean this big ass house, and this is how you do me? You always try to embarrass me!” Dante screamed as he grabbed the glass that held Heaven’s toothbrush and smashed it on the floor.

Myla burst into tears as shards of glass flew into the flesh of her feet. This was not supposed to be her life. She could feel herself shrinking inside herself. It was true that, since moving into her home, Dante had given her money toward the bills.

He had taken over every bill except her phone bill, but he did not buy groceries or clean the home. The disarray at home and her maid quitting were the reasons they got into an argument a couple of weeks ago.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you; I’m just not feeling well,” she admitted. She knew better than to admit that he was the cause of her not feeling like herself. That would only lead to more arguing.

Dante scoffed.

“You think you’re better than me. That’s why you always find a way to be the center of attention. Always mentioning writing your little peer-reviewed journals. You really think you’re better than me, Ms. College Grad,” Dante spat her accomplishments out like they were something disgusting.

Myla recoiled. Dante always found a way to throw her achievements in her face as if they were something dirty. He spoke as if being a college graduate or contributing to peer-reviewed journals was taboo. There was nothing ‘little’ about anything done in a doctoral program. Yet he always found a way or made it his business to reduce her hard work to something mediocre.

“How does me being a college graduate equate to me acting better than you? I have never acted like I was better than you,” she said defensively.

She was so eager to defend herself that she was unaware that she had not defended herself at all. Myla had done exactly what the master manipulator wanted her to do; she took the bait.

Dante scowled as he looked at her. A way to make her feel smaller than she already was. The air of superiority he felt as he watched her shrink boosted his ego. He wanted to relish this moment even longer, but he was on a schedule.

“Yes, the fuck you do!!” he shouted.

His voice bounced off each wall like a ball.

“You thought I was just a dumb ass nigga like your downlow ex. You looked at me crazy when I knew who Mary Pleasant was. Then you had the nerve to say that I’ve never been anywhere, because I never visited a boring ass museum. I’ve been all around the world bitch! The fuck are you talking about?!” Dante yelled.

Spittle flew from the sides of his mouth like a rabid dog. A vein bulged from his forehead and the sides of his neck.

The sight before her was straight out of a horror movie. Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers would run for the hills if they saw what she saw. She knew rage could contort a person’s face, but at this moment Dante was truly unrecognizable.

Myla’s stomach bubbled and flipped as Dante stood glaring at her. She could practically see smoke coming from his nostrils like a raging bull’s. But she couldn’t understand why. She had not said the things he accused her of. He had mangled and twisted her words into something grotesque.

Yes, she was shocked that he knew of Mary Pleasant. Her contributions weren’t widely spoken of. And yes, she had suggested that he visit the African American Museum when he had time. But there had never been a time when she suggested that he wasn’t well traveled.

Most important, she couldn’t figure out how they even got on this topic. What he was mentioning had nothing to do with what they were originally talking about. Still trembling with fear, Myla hoped that clearing up the miscommunication would change Dante’s mood.

“I-I-I-I,” Myla stuttered, “I never said that. I never said you weren’t well traveled. I suggested you visit the museum when you have free time.”

Dante’s long legs carried him over to where Myla was so quickly that she didn’t see him move. She blinked, and he was hovering over her. His presence was so heavy that Myla felt like she was suffocating.