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Briyana
All I wanted wassome sleep.
The past few days had been a whirlwind. Or rather, a perfect creation straight out of satan’s design book. And even though I was technically in a better place physically, hardly anything had improved for me mentally since being back home meant listening to the headboard repeatedly knock against the wall while my “stepmother” called my father by the name reserved for his only child.
This shit was practically hell adjacent.
I suppose it was better than being without a home though. And that was exactly what would’ve happened if I’d stayed up in Oregon since the friend who was holding me down while I was figuring out my next thing had randomly decided she was over it.
Well… that wasn’t the entire story.
Her man trying to fuck me probably had something to do with her decision too. But considering that wasn’t exactly my fault and that I’d shut his advances down immediately, I was annoyed by her choice of picking him over me; especially since it was obvious his ass wasn’t worth a damn.
They’d been together for a while though. Much longer than I’d known her which I suppose gave him some level of seniority in regard to how the situation was handled. And because of that, I’d gone from looking for a post-internship job in a city well-over two thousand miles away from home to listening to my father fuck his former mistress turned wife in a little over forty-eight hours.
Hellish.
Because of how hastily I’d left the state I’d spent the past eight years in, my belongings were packed with no rhyme or reason, making it difficult to find the headphones that would save me from cutting an ear off like Van Gogh. But of course, the second my hands landed on the tiny white charging pack they were stored in was the same second the headboard knocking came to a stop, the quiet making me roll my eyes as I tossed my AirPods on the nightstand and crawled back into bed only to be startled by heavy raps against my bedroom door.
Without waiting for a response, my slightly sheened, out of breath father peeked his head in and said, “Hey, Bri Bri. Umm… I know this is kinda a weird thing for a father to be asking his daughter. But you’re grown now, so… you wouldn’t happen to have any lube, would you?”
“Are you serious right now?” I asked with a frown. “The tattered rug representing my life was literally just pulled from up under me, and you’re in here asking me for… lube?”
Like he hadn’t just called the whole thing weird himself, my father gave a nonchalant shrug when he explained, “We ran out.”
“Congratulations?”
That made him grunt, clearly anxious to get back to what he’d been doing when he annoyedly asked, “Do you have some or not?”
Shaking my head, I answered, “Or not. But maybe you could try that tub of Crisco in the kitchen. I’m sure it would do the trick.”
The stern look he responded with would’ve made me shrivel like a cold dick if this was fifteen years ago. But now, I knew it didn’t really mean shit, making it easy for me to stare right back until he gave another grunt and shut the door.
Somehow, that felt like a victory. But unfortunately, it didn’t last long, the headboard once again knocking against the wall making me throw a fit against the covers before I decided it was either leave now or bust in on them with threats that I’d never actually follow through on.
After all, they were technically doing me a favor by letting me stay here while I figured my life out. And since I hadn’t even bothered trying to mess with the knot that currently existed, going for a walk would have to do for now.
The louder the headboard got, the faster my hands went as I sifted through my suitcase until I landed on a pair of shoes I didn’t mind ruining for the sake of some peace. And after finding a jacket that was more for anonymity than warmth, I left the house to stroll the neighborhood I’d spent a solid decade of my life in -and almost a decade of my life away from.
It wasn’t that I’d completely hated the years I’d spent in Houston. I’d justlovedmy life in Eugene, Oregon; a city I hadn’t even been able to point out on a map before I moved there. But when my desire to get as far away from home as possible in response to divorcing parents was paired with a full-ride track scholarship, it was where I’d ended up for four and half years of undergrad, two and half years of graduate school, one year of interning for Nike in the relatively nearby city of Beaverton, and then three weeks of looking for a job before I was sent packing thanks to a man who’d claimed I’d been plotting on him since the day my friend loaned me her couch even though it was literally the other way around.
He didn’t have to be there all the time,including when his girl wasn’t home, but he was.
He didn’t have to stay in my face trying to “bond” over stupid shit, but he did.
And he definitely didn’t have to touch me nor follow that up with a proposition for sex, only to be caught mid-proposal by his girlfriend who actually believed him when he decided to blame everything on me.
According to him, me moving in temporarily was all a part of some master plan to seduce him like he was even fine enough for me to have gone through that much trouble. Or like I really needed to strategize that intensely to get some dick.
I mean, a whole invasion of someone’s space?
With all of my possessions?
For penis?
Even in the moment, I had to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. But I guess it wasn’t all that funny since that was exactly how my ass ended up on a plane back to Houston.
Jokes on you, Bri.
