Page 113 of Lovetown, USA
Baby please. I love you
It’s desperate and pathetic, but it’s all I got.
When I swing by the clinic to check on the new building’s progress, I expect it to be the one thing on this earth that can cheer me up right now. Instead, I stand there in the husk of what’s supposed to be my dream, feeling nothing but the empty space around me.
Because what good is building something if your woman isn’t there to see it with you?
41
Trey
Two months.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve heard her fucking voice.
The silence is suffocating me. Every morning, I wake up and check my phone, like maybe she’ll have unblocked me in her sleep or some shit. And nothing. Not a single word.
I send roses—six dozen, all at once—delivered straight to theVerveoffice. I imagine her walking into the newsroom and being hit with the floral aroma, the sheer ridiculous excess of it being impossible to ignore. It’s a lot, but maybe she’ll see it for what it is; not an apology, not bribery, just me trying to sayI can’t stop thinking about you. Just let me hear your voice one more time.
Another day, another unblock fee payment. $2000.I’m lost without you.
No call. No messages. Nothing but hollow emptiness where hope used to be.
I start searching for her online between patients. Facebook gives me nothing. Twitter’s a ghost town. Instagram—finally! I found her handle. I click.
I’m blocked.
She fucking preemptively blocked my ass. She don’t even want melookingat her.
I have to respect the dedication, if nothing else. Fuck.
At home, I pace miles around my living room before I have a revelation.
Now my phone’s in my hand. There’s one person who might know how to reach her for me.
Shayla answers on the first ring, her voice clipped. “What do you want, Trey?”
“I need your help.”
She exhales sharply, already irritated. “If this is about Lane, you can forget it. I’m not helping you hurt her again.”
Her words cut like a knife, but I push through the pain. “I’m not trying to hurt her. Ever again. I just need to talk to her. Two minutes.”
“Two minutes is all it took for you to break her heart. So, no.”
“Shayla, listen to me.” I hate the desperation in my voice. “I love that girl. I swear to God. I do. At least tell me how she is. She’s not drinking again, is she?”
“Boy, fuck you. Ain’t nobody falling off the wagon over your lyin’ ass. Quit playing on my phone.”
But she doesn’t hang up. Silence ensues, long and heavy. I grip the phone tighter, my heart pounding.
Finally, she speaks. “You love her? You’re sure about that?”
“Positive. I told y’all I wanted to fall in love again. And I did.”
Another pause. I can almost hear her weighing my words, testing them, waiting for them to collapse under their own weight.
Then , finally, some hope.
