Page 132 of Save Room for Us

I sat staringoff into the distance, wondering how I’d gotten myself into the same situation from years ago, only worse. At least back then, money was free flowing, and I was young, had friends, and could do things. Now though, I was a mother to a young child, yet again, only this time my husband was a simple social worker making modest earnings that only afforded simple, occasional outings and possibly a non-name brand purse on my birthday.

“Hey, babe.” Brian walked into the living room where I sat. “Where is Blaire?”

“Shit.” I covered my face, remembering I never picked her up from school.

“Nori, are you fucking serious?” Brian grunted, tossing his tired ass briefcase to the floor. “Again?”

“I got busy…” I mumbled, letting my sentence trail off as I located my phone to see the school had called me several times.

“Busy with what, baby?” Brian sat next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

One thing I did have better than what I used to have was a supportive partner. Brian understood me and was always sympathetic to my feelings.

He wasn’t like Prime, always reprimanding me and pointing out what I did wrong as if he were a saint. The whole time he was pointing the finger at me for not being attentive to him and Asif, he was fucking my best friend and then had the nerve to marry a bitch on me, pretending like it was just to help her son.

Every time I thought back to how dirty that nigga did me, it pissed me off. I regretted not being stronger, fighting back more, and allowing him to steamroll me, steal my son, and move on with a whole new life.

“Things around the house.” I stood up. “I’m gonna go pick her up.” I grabbed my purse from the nightstand and shoved my phone down into it.

“Alright. I um, I guess I’ll get some dinner started then.” Brian exhaled, clearly exhausted from working his ten-hour shift.

I often compared him to my ex and realized the only good thing about Prime was his looks and money. He wasn’t half the man Brian was, and he’d raised my son to be detached, dismissive, and selfish just like he’d been. I hated that man, maybe even more than his wife.

“Thanks, baby.” I kissed Brian’s face and hurried out to retrieve Blaire from school. I hoped that counselor didn’t try to step to me like she often did late parents, because I wasn’t in the right mood and might pop off on her ass.

I was much older than a lot of the parents of Blaire’s classmates, having given birth to Blaire at the ripe ass age of forty-five, so I think the staff cut me some slack because of it.They attributed my lateness to my age, not realizing I’d forgotten Asif several times, and I was much younger then.

On the way there, my phone rang, and I saw it was Asif, exciting me. I quickly answered, almost rear ending the car in front of me since my eyes were on my car’s screen.

“Hi, baby,” I said a little more excitedly than I’d planned.

“You busy this weekend?” He got right to business, and I wanted to suck my teeth. He was so much like his father, from his looks to his height, build, and personality. It was almost eerie, only difference being that Asif wore locs and not a simple fade like his father had back in the day.

“Nope, no. Why?”

“I want you to come have dinner with my parents.”

“Your parents?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I get that Lisara is a mother figure, Asif, but I carried you. She did none of the brunt work. She has six of her own sons. She cannot claim mine.”

“Can you come or not?”

“What time?”

“Friday, six thirty p.m. You remember the address?”

They still lived there?

“Ye-yeah, I do.”

“Aight. See you then.” He hung up before I could say goodbye, but I was deep within my thoughts anyway.

The more I learned of Prime’s current life, the more I hated him. Putting me away in an asylum for a decade was enough for me to want to kill him, but residing in the house I thought was mine and raising my son to treat me like some bitch off the street had me vexed.

When I got out of the asylum, I didn’t know how to feel or what to do. I had no job, no friends, and my one cousin whoI used to be able to lean on was nowhere to be found. I was desolate and ended up going to a shelter to get on my feet.

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