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Clarissa: He won’t dance with me. Wouldn’t hurt to try.

Troy: That’s because you don’t listen to anything but old shit.

Clarissa: Don’t insult my tastes. I get my love for R&B and old soul from my mother.

Troy: How did she die? You never said.

When she doesn’t answer for a full minute, I know I’ve overstepped.

Troy: You don’t have to tell me.

Clarissa: Heroin overdose. I wasn’t there.

I read her text twice. It’s nothing I expected.

Troy: Jesus. I’m so sorry.

Clarissa: It was a long time ago.

Troy: Still, that had to suck growing up without a mom. I can’t imagine life without mine.

Clarissa: That’s why I’m so careful about my choices with Dante. I can’t help but be overly cautious. I won’t mix over the counter meds. I’ve never even hit a joint.

Troy: I get it.

Clarissa: Gross. Let’s change the subject before I look like more of a square.

Troy: You’re a square for saying square. And no one can fault you for being cautious.

Clarissa: I rarely tell anyone that’s how she died. I usually say heart attack.

Troy: What did you tell Brett?

Clarissa: Heart attack. I’ll be honest with him at some point, but he comes from a well-to-do family. I don’t know why I lied. It wasn’t my habit. I shouldn’t be ashamed.

Troy: No, you shouldn’t.

Clarissa: I better go to bed.

Troy: Yeah. I’ve still got four hours left and then sc

hool and practice.

Clarissa: You shouldn’t have been Batman for Halloween. You’re living more of a Superman kind of life.

Troy: From you, that’s one hell of a compliment.

Clarissa: Don’t run with it.

Troy: It’s late, and I’ve caught you slipping when you’re vulnerable. I won’t read too much into it.

Clarissa: Don’t go thinking I admire you.

Troy: I wouldn’t dare. Sweet dreams.

Clarissa: Goodnight.

I can’t help myself, I smile for the full four hours of the rest of my shift for two reasons, the first being my baby mama thinks I’m Superman, the other is the fact that she’s not telling her boyfriend the truth about her past, but she’s revealing it to me. Maybe I need to try harder for something between us. For years I’ve watched with longing to hold my son the way she holds him in her arms, but now, now I’m imagining holding them both in the same possessive way. I went off on her without ever giving her a chance to grasp anything I was trying to convey. How could she have taken any words I said seriously with my hard dick swinging between us? I let impulse win. It was an immature way of revealing how I feel, what I want, by trying to seduce her instead of showing her what I am truly hoping for, not another shot between her legs, but at her heart. She is exactly the type of woman I should invest myself in. I need not look any further.

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