trying to please everybody. But I realized it doesn’t work like that. I’m supposed to be with you and you only. God gave me an answer.”
“He gave me one too!” I shouted through the door. “He told me to tell you to get the hell away from my house! I’m through, Rodrick! I’m done!”
“Just open the door so we can talk. Please?”
“No!”
He kicked the door. I looked through the peep hole and saw him with his hands on his hips in frustration. I didn’t care what he said—he wasn’t getting in this house.
“When can I see my daughter again?” he asked calmly.
“We’ll work something out,” I said.
“Okay.”
He trotted back down my steps and disappeared into the day. Honestly, if it weren’t for Kylie, I wouldn’t care if I ever saw him again.
-
Rodrick Al-Bashir: “For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Matthew 6:14-15
August 18th, 6:44 a.m.
CHAPTER 11
Moonlight still bullied the dark sky as I walked out of my house the next morning. As I neared my G6 in my driveway, getting my ignition key ready, I saw a white four-door BMW parked on my side of the street.
It was dark out, but the man in the Beamer looked like Ladykiller. So when the car cut on its headlights and pulled forward, I got in my car and sped to catch up, barreling down E. 67th Street and across James A. Reed Road. I was going to pull alongside the car at the stop sign at the end of the street to be sure it wasn’t him, but as we neared the corner, the BMW zoomed through the sign without slowing down.
I stopped and watched the white car propel off into the distance, the tail lights growing ever smaller. My heart rate began to slow down.
As soon as twelve o’ clock hit, I went to the break room and pulled me out a seat. For lunch, I packed myself a grilled chicken sandwich with ranch dressing leftover from last night. I sipped some of my low-sodium tomato juice—it’s supposed to protect from numerous cancers—and flicked the lock off my phone’s display.
I didn’t know what to update my status with. What was I supposed to post after being captured on video beating my best friend’s ass? I wasn’t going to gloat; that wasn’t classy. I wasn’t going to apologize either; Deja would have to do that first. And even if she did, I didn’t think I would give her one in return.
The video had reached over 400 Likes. What worried me the most was not knowing if my supervisor would see it and try to terminate me. As far as I knew, Ruth didn’t have a Site page, but one never knew these days. If my mother had one, Ruth could have one. To be on the safe side, I tapped the video link and deleted it from my page.
Then I went to Rodrick’s and read his status.
I couldn’t help but think it was directed toward me. It was sad. He was trying to force me to forgive him by using a scripture. A trademark Rodrick Brown move: make somebody else feel guilty to get his way. I wanted to comment on his status and ask him how many times was a person supposed to forgive a habitual liar and cheater, but I knew he’d respond with something slick and we’d go back and forth over the internet and both end up looking like idiots. I thought about changing my relationship status—he’d get the picture then. But I knew if I changed it, guys would be messaging me like crazy and I didn’t want any new attention right now.
And, I hated to admit… deep down… I wanted to see if Rodrick would get a wake-up call this time and see that I was the woman he needed. I know I’d said I didn’t care if I ever saw him again… well, it still held true if he didn’t change.
“You always on yo phone.”
I looked up and saw Stuart Bradshaw sitting across from me. He was the security guard over the DMV. Eagerly, he started taking the clear wrap off his bowl of turkey salad.
“So?” I said jokingly.
“You know I got handcuffs, right?”
“And I got pepper spray.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
He laughed. And after gobbling down a few forkfuls of salad, he said, “Ruth told me to keep an eye on you. She told me to tell her if I saw you on your phone while on the clock.”
“I hate that B.”
“Me too. I wonder if she got somebody watching me to see when I get on
I chuckled. Stuart was my Site friend also, though he rarely made updates. His girlfriend, Joanne Dunley, however, posted every five minutes, it seemed. And they were some of the bitterest stats ever. It seemed like every other day she had an issue in her life—car broke down, dog died, airborne virus, stress bumps. I was surprised Stuart was still with her.
“How’s Joanne?” I asked.
Shaking his head, he replied, “I don’t know. She’s at home right now looking for a job. She got fired for writing up the owner. I told her not to do that.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to yo daughter’s birthday party. I had to go get her car fixed and when I went to pay for it, her card got denied and I didn’t have mine on me—”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand what you’re dealing with.”
“Thank you,” he said.
He finished his meal and got up to leave. Before he walked out the break room, he turned back toward me with a knowing grin.
“I’ll see you later, Mayweather.”
I blushed. But how could I be surprised that he’d seen the video?
My phone beeped in my hand. I had a notification. When I clicked on it, I saw that Rodrick had tagged me in his status update about forgiveness. Now the stat showed up on my profile page. He was trying to make sure I saw it, and I know he wanted me to respond.
I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.
When I walked in the new daycare center, I had no idea where the kids were. I had no idea where anybody was. The place was empty.
“Hello?” I said softly.
I pushed through the first set of doors I saw and was surprised to see at least thirty kids sitting on the floor, legs crossed, paying close attention to the police officer at the front. I thought this was some kind of drill until one
