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Soon. I dreamed about upgrades in my next home that included automatic showers and toilets that flushed when I was finished handling my business. To build the perfect private practice over the last five years, I’d put those aspirations aside. Now that my child was about to make his grand entrance, those aspirations were becoming my reality.
When the water was nice and warm, I peeled my clothes off my body and placed them in the laundry bin next to the shower. I stepped inside and let the steam rise above me. The silk scarf and shower cap I’d put on just before getting in saved my silk press from destruction. For them both, I was grateful.
I closed my eyes as Milo’s words resurrected my rapidly beating heart. His kindness was exactly what had drawn me to him all those years ago. His leadership kept me by his side for as long as I was. No one could’ve ever told me that we’d never amount to anything together but would come the best versions of the people we were striving to be… apart.
The day that I discovered Milo cheated on me was the day I thought my life was over. I hadn’t experienced a heart attack, but medical schooling and the symptoms I felt for weeks after the breakup led me to believe that I was suffering from one. My suspicions landed me in the hospital, hyperventilating and confused as they ran every test known to man on my tiny frame, trying to discover the root of my heart’s behavior. In the end, I was sent home with anxiety medication and a diagnosis that wasn’t often given to patients. The emergency room physician informed me that I was suffering from a broken heart and the only cure was time, patience, and rest.
Inhaling, I recalled the moment my heart shattered. Nearly three days of unanswered calls, avoidance, and twelve voicemails, I was led to Milo’s dorm where I found him sitting in the dark with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Milo, what’s the matter?”I asked, but he remained silent.
“Milo. What’s wrong? Is everyone okay? In your family?” The fear that he’d lost someone else close to him left me wondering if he’d heard bad news.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, head still low.
“Then, what’s the matter? Talk to me.”
“I– jus– Not right now, Nay.”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls for the last two days and avoiding me on campus altogether. What do you mean, not right now? What is going on? Talk to me.”
“Shit just crazy right now.”
“Tell me what the hell is going on, Milo!” I demanded, finally at my breaking point.
As the words left my mouth, there was a knock at his door.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar, soft tone sang out loud.
My head whipped in the opposite direction. Big, unconcealable knots began to form in my stomach as I became physically ill. When I turned back around to face Milo, it was as if his deep, dark skin had darkened a few more shades. I wasn’t sure if that was scientifically possible, but it had to be because I was staring right at the blackest version of Milo I’d ever seen.
Because the door wasn’t locked, LaKia, his mentee, was granted access immediately. Her presence was a surprise, one that I wished I could claim was pleasant, but it wasn’t. She had no business in Milo’s dorm room. Their meetings were in Founder’s Hall every Wednesday and Friday at six in the evening. It was nine on a Sunday night.
“Miiiiiil–”
My presence was a surprise to her as well. She stopped mid-stride upon recognizing me standing in front of a shrunken version of the person she’d come to see. My eyes never left her as she began retracting, backing toward the door she’d come in.
“Can I help you, LaKia?” I was led to ask.
“Uh. I have an exam tomorrow and was… I just wanted to see if Milo could help me prepare.”
“Today isn’t Wednesday and neither is it Friday.”
“Right. Uh. I’ll just g—”
“Please.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving us alone again. The sound of Milo cracking his knuckles one by one rattled every nerve in my body. Downward brows and lowered eyes proved I was losing the war that had been waged on my heart in my absence.
“Milo,” I murmured.
A million tiny needles pricked my orbs. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood in solidarity. As if I’d been drenched in cement, the ability of movement quickly diminished. My heart was heavy but my body was heavier. Slowly, I turned in his direction.
In the corner, at the edge of his bed, Milo continued to crumble under pressure that hadn’t derived from me, personally. From the moment I walked through his door, I recognized it and knew it had been crushing him long before he saw my face. Defeat covered his entirety. Like glue, it was stuck on him. It was in his posture. The tone of his voice. In his movements. And in those dark eyes of his.
“Nature. Please. Just, let’s not– I– baby,” he stuttered.
A whiz, his vocabulary was expansive. Whether he chose to use it or not was completely up to him. He had total control and was a professional when it came to code shifting. But not now. The very brain he studied day and night, tirelessly, until his hurt, managed to malfunction for the first time since I’d known him.
