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We talk a few minutes more, than hang up. I hurriedly wash up, throw on some clothes, then start tossing a few things into an overnight bag. I’m not sure what’s going to happen between Desmond and me. It’s been months since I’ve seen or talked to him, thanks to Persia. I’m not even sure if he’s who I want to be with. But what I am sure of, I’m going to be a mother. And my baby’s going to have a father in its life after all. And that’s all that matters to me.
Persia
CHAPTER SIXTY
The last three weeks have been hell. Okay, I know. A hell that I’ve created. Paris is still not speaking to me. Even Porsha is looking at me sideways for causing this riff between us. This whole situation has spiraled out of control. Paris hasn’t been staying here; she’s actually been avoiding me. I’ve become invisible to her.
And now I’m up in my room, standing in my window, watching as she moves some of her belongings out. I’m watching as Desmond helps her load things in her car and in his truck. I don’t even know where she’s going. Every so often, she looks up, stealing evil glances at me, rightfully so. I hurt her deeply. And for that, I’m so truly sorry.
It hurts standing here, watching her move her things out of our home. It hurts knowing that her forgiveness for what I’ve done may not come anytime soon. Yes, my actions caused this. But, eventually, she’ll come around. She always does. We’re sisters. And our bond will always be strong; no matter what. But, for now, I have to give her her space and weather the storm between us.
Mother was right. I’m a selfish bitch; always have been. I want what I want and who I want when I want it. If I’m completely honest with myself, the truth is I don’t regret sleeping with Desmond. It sounds fucked up, but I simply don’t. It’s what I wanted to do. But that’s something I’ll never admit to Paris, or ever share with Porsha. However, I do regret Paris finding out. I regret seeing her hurt by my selfishness. Still, I believe I could’ve gotten away with it—as I have with all of her other boyfriends—had I fucked him only once instead of getting greedy. I should’ve never given him my number. I have offered to apologize to Desmond, but Paris simply laughed.
“Bitch, the damage is already done. What the fuck do you think an apology is going to do now? Make everything go away? No, bitch. Save your fucking apology. He’s not interested in it. And neither am I. He was off limits to you, ho. The rule was we only share the men the three of us, or at least two of us, mutually agree on. Anyone else is off fucking limits, especially once we know he’s interested in only one of us. Even if I didn’t tell you about him, you knew he had feelings for me.”
“Paris, if you would have told me that you’ve met someone that you wanted for yourself, then I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Bitch, you’re so fucking full of yourself, it’s a damn shame. If I didn’t mention him to you, there must’ve had been a damn good reason. And when Desmond called the store looking for me, YOU should’ve told him I wasn’t there. Then YOU should’ve simply asked me about him and I would’ve told you that I was keeping him for myself. So, don’t give me that bullshit.
“Bitch, I forgave you when you slutted yourself out with all of them motherfucking boys and had the whole damn school calling me sluts and whores and shit. I took ass whippings and punishments for you, bitch. Why? Because I’m your sister and I loved you. And it would hurt me to see you always in trouble. I didn’t want to accept that you were the problem. Not Mother, you. You’ve never given a fuck about anyone else but yourself. And I’m sick of it.”
I went to walk toward her. “Paris, I know you’re hurt, and—”
“Don’t you fucking come near me,” she warned, balling her fist up. “You have no fucking idea what I’m feeling. We’ve had our arguments and screaming matches over the years. And we’ve gotten over them. But, right now, if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d beat the shit out of you. So the best thing you can do for the both of us is to stay THE FUCK away from me! Don’t open your mouth to say shit!”
And with that said, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Now I stand here watching as she and Porsha hug. I swipe the tear that has escaped from my eye and as she gets in her car and drives off with Desmond following behind her.
I take a deep breath. “Damn, she’s fine as fuck,” I had heard one of the guys say as I walked by the bleachers where they were all sitting, smoking weed. There were like eight of them. Three of them I recognized from school. The other five were boys from Newark. I had on a short skirt and a tight-fitting tee. I was itching to get into some trouble.
“Hey,” this light-skinned guy with freckles called out. I knew him from school. “C’mere.”
I walked back over to where they where all sitting and looked up at him. “Yeah?”
“Which triplet are you?”
I smiled. “Paris. Why, y’all want some pussy?”
They all started high-fiving each other, grabbing at their dicks. “Hell yeah.” I was young and horny and wanted to fuck. I told them I knew where we could go to have some fun. They followed me as I led them to a path, that took us into the woods where—one after the other—they took turns fucking me, dumping cum into me. They all stood around cheering each other on until they all had their turn with me. I got up, picked up my panties and wiped my swollen, cum-soaked pussy with them, then walked out of the woods like nothing ever happened.
“You fucking bitch!” Porsha snaps, jolting me from my reverie as she swings open my bedroom door. I turn from the window and face Persia. “You see what you’ve done?! Because of you, Paris is moving out of this house. Because of you, there’s a wedge between us now. That shit you did to Paris brings up old wounds for me, too. Like when you fucked Brandon, and fucked God knows how many other boyfriends of mine over the years. How many of them did you fuck, pretending to be me?”
I sit down. “Only him,” I lie. Truth is I’ve fucked three of her boyfriends. But, I’ll never tell her that.
She shakes her head. “I wish I could believe you, Persia.”
“It’s the truth.”
Her intense stare tells me she isn’t buying it one bit. “Whatever.” She storms back out the room. My cell rings. I sigh. It’s Mother. I press IGNORE. I call our father. He picks up on the third ring.
“Hey, baby girl,” he says, his voice gentle and full of love. “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the mess between Paris and me.”
“Yeah, I got an earful the night of the reception. And you’re mother has been beside herself; nonstop on the phone with your aunts.”
“Ugh. I’m sure they’re having a field day with this.”
