Page 4 of Malcolm

“Are you serious? Who convinced me to take time off school because he would become a cop and care for me? Huh? Tell me where the fuck is the man who told me he was going to become my anchor?” She demanded, overwhelmed; she covered her eyes. She should have known better. It had taken a lot for her to open up to Carl, but over the last few months, he’d steadilyproven that that had been a mistake. She’d been stupidly dragging this relationship out longer than necessary.

Why did she have to be so fucking pathetic? It felt like she was willing to take anything as long as he loved her.

“Leave.”

“What?”His voice cracked as if he hadn’t expected her to say that.

Jerking her hand down, she glared at him. “Leave, take your shit and that hoe,” she pointed at the woman who’d been slowly moving as if she was afraid to draw her attention. “I’ve lived too long to play a fool twice. I won’t do it with you. Get out, when I come back, you and everything you own should be gone, and the key better be on the counter.”

He took a step towards her, “Babe, wait?—”

“Do you see this?”

She pointed at her cheek, and he stilled. “I told you two things I wouldn’t tolerate from anyone, especially from my partner, being hit or being lied to.”

Lowering her hand, she turned her attention to the other woman.

“Kathy, I have no beef with you because no matter how much you flirted, you’re not the one in the relationship here, but let me warn you. If I ever see you again after this, I will beat your ass on site, but that’s because I’d be a fool not to do it the second time we meet.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Carl's call after her. Slamming out of her apartment, she headed for the steps. Family and relationships—she was over them. How many times was she going to have to endure this sort of feeling? Humiliation and hurt nearly choked her. She mindlessly walked with her hands stuffed into her jeans pockets; she’d been sure it would work out this time.

Was she cursed?

Her mother and father had fought all the time, her father fucking with anything he could get his hands on. Her mother had thought adopting the little black baby would change him, and it did. He started fucking black women, too and enjoyed using his little black baby as his little capture flag.

Had her mother left him? No.

She’d stayed trying to be a good wife, again and again being made a fool of as she stood in a room in her pearls and perfectly pressed evening gown in a room with women who could tell her what her husband’s body looked like.

Eliza had endured cold dinners and sad Christmases where her mother drank as much as she could before she finally ended it all with a bottle of pills. Leaving Eliza with a father who only calls her for photoshoots to make him look like a family man.

The money he’d sent her regularly sat in an account she never touched, and she’d barely talked to the man since she’d dropped out her sophomore year of college for a break.

She should have known that relationships wouldn’t work. All she asked was two things: don’t hit her and don’t lie to her. That’s it, yet it seemed he couldn’t help doing both.

She stopped at the sidewalk corner and looked up, only to blink slowly as her brain tried to catch up with what she was seeing.

A strange woman stood in the center of the street in an outfit that could only be described as eye-catching. The long, bright red skirt suit didn’t slow her down as she walked towards Eliza. Her hair was wrapped and twisted up to let a few curls fall down her back.

Eliza took a step back once she stepped up on the sidewalk.

“Are you Eliza Clemson,” she asked.

Surprised, Eliza nodded without thinking. Catching herself, she narrowed her eyes on the person looking them over. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled, yet Eliza didn’t feel comforted. “I’ve been looking for girls like you. Your boss gave your name and address. He was quite friendly and forthcoming.”

Frank was the last person in the world anyone would call friendly. Eliza loved that cantankerous old man, but he’d never give out his employees' information. Crossing her arms, Eliza shifted her stance, becoming defensive. “You’re lying.”

The woman released a sigh. Reaching inside her suit jacket, she pulled out a flyer. “Humph, I guess you’re not as naïve as you look,” she held out the flyer to Eliza, “but I did get your information from one of your co-workers. I only wished to offer you employment at my own establishment.”

“You want to hire me,” Eliza asked, not taking the flyer, her eyes narrowed on the woman’s clothes, “You’re not exactly the type that hands out flyers in a neighborhood like this, so I’m sorry if I’m a bit skeptical.”

“Skepticism is something you should have especially when you have a secret,” the woman looked at her with a pointed look that made Eliza feel uncomfortable.

“Look, I don’t care about what you’re selling. I’m not interested,” Eliza said as she tried to walk around the woman.

“You know—I’m trying my best to do this by your plebian human standards,” Eliza paused, feeling a chill run down her spine. She looked over her shoulder, only to meet the dark eyes of the stranger, who rotated her right hand as her fingers wriggled. Eliza noticed the many rings on her fingers, “I don’t know what’s more annoying, having to go through the first step just to get to the second one, or when you dub witches feign ignorance.”

---