Page 2 of Tyriq & Teaira
“We won!” Dr. Matheson says excitedly.
Matheson is one of many employees here at Highland Regional who are CFU alumni. I’m even included in the number. I received my Bachelor of Science in Nursing from there six years ago. I’m hyped as shit that we won tonight’s game but just like I’ve done every time I walked in here during the playoffs, I’m playing it chill.
“Go CFU!” I say before walking to my intended purpose for being in here.
It’s the end of my fourteen-hour shift and I need my lunch kit. It’s the end, end too and I won’t be stepping foot back in here until seventy-hours later, Monday at seven in the morning. I’ve worked fourteen hours four days straight in this ER and I’m ready to take my tired but fine ass home.
Once I have my kit, I drop back by the nursing station and tell the two nurses sitting there good night. If I wasn’t so damn tired, I would sprint out of here. It doesn’t matter how thick or well-cushioned the midsole is on a shoe, after fourteen hoursin the ER, my damn calves burn and my feet start feeling like I’m walking on glass as soon as my shift ends. The walk to the parking garage is always murderous.
“Shit,” I huff as soon as my ass slides into the driver seat of my Jeep.
After placing my meal kit and clutch on the passenger seat, I start the engine and pull out of the garage. I’m tired as shit but my stomach is growling too. After the bagel and sausage I ate while driving in this morning, I only had too many Celsius energy drinks and a pack of peanut M&Ms from the vending machine. The revolving doors at the ER don’t leave any time for a real lunch or dinner. Plus, the food in my lunch kit was prepared on Monday and I’m not eating three-day-old spaghetti. While it tastes so much better the next day, three days ain’t it.
Giving in to my hunger pains, I stop by Wings & Things for a six-piece, all drums, blue cheese, and a side salad with French. Thankfully, the drive thru is quicker than normal and I pull in front of my townhouse right before midnight. As soon as I enter, I start my after-shift ritual.
After placing my purse, lunch kit, and takeout bag on the small table by my front door, I remove my Hokas, scrubs, and underwear. My laundry room with a small counter space and stacked washer and dryer is located in the space under my stairs, so I take my clothing in there and start the load. Then I trek to my downstairs guest bathroom and take a long, much-needed hot shower and scrub the day off my face and body.
Completely clean, refreshed, moisturized, and dressed in a tank and female boxers, I grab my food and bags from the door. After tossing my stale spaghetti and garlic bread into the garbage, I wash the container in soapy, hot, bleached water, then wipe out my lunch kit. Because I like hot, crispy wings, I place them in my air fryer then grab shredded cheese from my fridgeto add to my side salad. As my wings warm, I take my clothes from the washer and place them in the dryer.
About five minutes later, I’m upstairs in my bed with my food tray, wings, salad, a bag of popcorn, and tumbler filled with Stella Rosa Black. After my four-day shift, I like to end the night with something mild. Tequila and vodka are definitely stocked in my downstairs bar but they are reserved for the weekend. As I sip from my tumbler, I turn on my TV, open my guilty pleasure, Tubi, and start the first recommended movie. I’ll be asleep before it ends anyway.
After I’ve stopped the damn rumbling in my stomach with two good ass wings and almost half my salad, I grab my phone. It’s still on silent and since I’m tired as fuck, I keep it that way but check the screen. I have two texts from my bestie Rebel.
Bestie Bitch:We won!!!! I'll send videos tomorrow:)
Bestie Bitch:HE won too. Did u see?
Me: Congratulations!!! So proud of you :-)
Bestie Bitch:Wait! You’re up? Why??
Me: In bed but yes.
Bestie Bitch:Talk?
I answer her text by hitting her contact and ringing her line. I swear she answers before the call can completely connect.
“Why the hell aren’t you asleep?” she snaps lovingly. After over fourteen years of being besties, we have somehow mastered the art of going off on each with love and tenderness.
“I had to eat a little something first and drink my wine. But why the hell are you up? Don’t you have practice in the morning, Miss Superstar Coach?” I ask.
Rebel is the head track coach at Douglasville Prep, our old high school. After leaving me and moving to Miami six yearsago, she finally brought her ass back to Diamond Falls over the summer. She was an assistant coach in college in Miami but this is her first year at Prep and she won district. I’m so proud of her.
“I’m giving them a day off. They deserve it. Plus, we were watching the game. Kassir wasn’t going to sleep until he knew Riq was taking them to the championship. Speaking of Riq, you talked to him?” she asks in her little slick ass tone.
“No. I haven’t,” I answer. “I told you it’s not like that with us.”
“Bitch, tell that lie to somebody who doesn’t know you. You have been with Riq for almost a year now.”
“Nine months and just fucking. We have not been together,” I say adamantly, trying to convince her and my damn self.
Things with us good—fun, exciting, and no fucking commitment. He does his own thing, lives his own life, and so do I. We are in two different places in our lives. I’m established, happy in my career, and he’s working hard to establish his. He’s in college, playing in the NCAA championship, and working hard not to fuck up his chances for the NBA Draft.
We hooked up over the summer after the annual D-Ville block party in his neighborhood. It was the summer. I was looking cute and the drink in my cup had me on a mission for somebody’s son. Never in a million years did I think I would end up spending the day with a fine ass, six-nine baller five years younger than me.
But I had.
Thanks to Rebel spraining her ankle and leaving me to my own wild mind, my day with Tyriq turned into a no-strings-attached night. The things he did to my body are permanently imprinted on my damn soul. The way he turned my thick assevery way but loose, I didn’t hesitate to hook up with him again when he asked. After night number two several other nights followed but we have always been on the same page—fucking and fun only. Rebel can’t seem to wrap her head around my arrangement.
