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I tapped the screen, and a preview of the message appeared under the name Kenzie. Underneath that message was a preview of the second message. Deciding that it was better to draw the line there, I placed the phone back on the desk and backed away before I could shift gears in my decision-making.
The door to the bathroom was slightly cracked. I turned my head to deliver the answer to his question when his phone lit up again. This time, one word appeared clear as day in the message preview.
Kenz:
. . . chlamydia.
“Wait, what?” I exclaimed to the same audience I asked about Katie and Connor going social media official.
Once I opened the first message, the rest of the read was a black hole. A tornado could’ve raged through my apartment, and I would’ve had no idea.
Kenz:
Hey
Kind of awkward and I don’t know how to say it
Just letting you know I have chlamydia.
The words became harder to make out the more I read. A fourth text came in, and I realized that the words weren’t hard to read, but my hands shook uncontrollably. My chest was on fire, and I felt like one of those cartoon characters with steam blowing out their ears.
I am reaching out to the last few people I hooked up with. Sorry.
I marched into the bathroom with the phone still in my hand and a completely unscripted reaction I was prepared to roll out without warning. I burst through the door and dragged the shower curtain open. Bryson stared at me with soap dripping down his chest.
“No roommates need you, but some girl with chlamydia does.” I chucked his phone into the tub. I left him under the running water and went straight to the living room to gather his shit.
The more time that passed, the more upset I felt. I could accept Bryson as a liar, but this crossed the line. It was one thing for him to say he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, but it was a whole other lens to look through when he was rinsing off the sex we just had, and I was reading about an STD.
“What the fuck?” Bryson stormed into the living room with a towel around his waist. He wiped his phone off and scrolled through what I assumed was the evidence I had just read.
“Get out,” I demanded and pointed to the door. I grabbed his candy and his phone charger and threw them in his book bag.
“What the fuck is your deal?” He backed into my room and returned wearing the clothes from the night before. “Seriously, what is your problem?”
“Did you not read your phone?” I raised my eyebrows. “I get that you areveryfar removed from saying anything truthful. But how the hell are you still acting like there is nothing for me to be mad about?”
“There is nothing to be mad about.” His tone read like I was completely out of line, and his face was stoic. It was almost like this conversation was a waste of time for him to even have. I had never seen him like this.
I pointed to the phone in his hand. “I just had sex with you twenty minutes ago. Some girl texts you that she has chlamydia, and I’m not allowed to be upset?”
“We have only used condoms. Chill out,” he snapped. He grabbed his bookbag and hoisted it on his shoulder, making a beeline toward the front door.
“Are youfuckingserious? You tell me you aren’t hooking up with anyone else, and in one text message, I find out that not only do you have an STD, but you lied about some stupid bullshit I told you I didn’t even care about!”
“Really? This is you not caring?” Bryson spat and gave me a look like he was completely disgusted with what was standing in front of him. “I don’t owe you any kind of answer. It’s none of your business what I do. I haven’t seen that girl in over a year. Probably just some crusty hoe using this as an excuse to reach out.”
I couldn’t afford to focus on his disgusting language right now. My head was spinning. I wasn’t in the wrong, but somehow he was turning this conversation around for it to be my problem.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Bryson.”
He slammed the door behind him, and everything was silent. I sat on the arm of the couch with my hand over my mouth. I didn’t think feeling anger, embarrassment, and sadness simultaneously was possible. It was a wild cocktail brewing in my stomach. A wave of nausea overcame me, leaving an unsettling cramp in my gut.
Part of me thought he would turn around and knock on my door so he could try and explain. When he didn’t return, anger won over the emotional battle in my headspace.
He lied to me. I had every right to be upset.
Did he even have chlamydia? I actually didn’t have that official answer. But I just accused him of having it, so why didn’t he provide a straightforward answer?
