Page 32 of Just Exes

“Curiosity, huh? Curious if he’s balls deep in another chick’s vajayjay.”

“You’re making it sound like I’d rather he be balls deep in me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said that, not me. Plus, I don’t believe your lying ass.”

“Looks like you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Then, explain this to me. Why’d you move in with homeboy then? Rooming with your enemy isn’t a common practice for most people. I’d never do it, for fear of getting shanked in my sleep or whatnot. So, why’d you do it?”

I groan. “For the millionth time, I needed somewhere to stay.”

“Hmm … I recall offering you a room here. I have cable, a man who knows how to throw down in the kitchen—akafreemeals—and a stepdaughter who enjoys giving free pedicures. Not saying they’re good pedis, but they’ll save you some dollars.”

“Your house is too crowded. I need personal space.”

“Personal space, my ass. You would’ve turned me down even if I’d offered you the house all to yourself. You’re there because you want to be around him.”

Am I that transparent?

I snort. “You’re so wrong.”

“The girl looking out the window, hoping he comes home and doesn’t spend the night with his date—whom he’s most likely banging at the moment—is telling me I’m wrong.”

“Gee, way to make me feel better. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I told you befriending me was a terrible idea and that I was a disastrous mess, yet you kept showing up, uninvited, at my apartment, poking and prodding for details about my life.”

“You were knocked up with my big bro’s baby. It was imperative I made sure you weren’t some weirdo. Although that’s still yet to be determined.”

“I’mthe weirdo? You eat pickles on your peanut butter sandwiches.”

“That’s a delicacy in some places, you know.”

“Where? Prison?”

“Dorm rooms for poor nursing students.”

“Now, let’s save the pickle-slash-friendship talk for another occasion because my time is almost up and I need a story more interesting about why you left him that’s better than the Winnie the Pooh book I’m about to read to Maven.”

“Don’t get your hopes up on that happening.”

“Did you run over his cat or something and can’t look at him without feeling guilty?”

“No. What’s wrong with you? I’ve never killed an animal.”

“My ex killed my gerbil. Accidentally, but that should’ve been the first sign that dating him was a bad idea. Now, spill. I only have a few minutes to spare before the bedtime festivities begin.”

“There’s no story. It was for the best. We needed to find ourselves.”

“Bullshit,” she coughs into the phone.

“I was leaving for college. His only plan after leaving high school was to follow me and figure out his life from there. He needed to find out what he wanted in life without it revolving around me. I made the choice for him.”

Crying erupts in the background. “That’s not the truth, but I’ll take it for now, considering my baby requires attention. Hold on a sec.”

I yawn. “Attend to my niece and nephew and call me tomorrow. I have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.”

She says good-bye and hangs up, and I lean back against the couch, doing a once-over of the loft. It was a mistake, staying here.

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