Chapter Thirteen
1270 Words
Chapter Thirteen
There weren’t that many boxes, but Adalia loaded them in the hallway anyway. Sylvester didn’t help, but stood in the doorway, with one shoulder leaned against it and an expression of disdain coloring his features.
“I don’t approve of this and I never will,” he grumbled, as she shoved another box out of her bedroom and into the entrance hall. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“Dad, I’m well past worrying about that. I need to do what’s best for me right now, and what’s best for you, too.” Adalia hurried back to her bedroom and lifted a box of her favorite books, romance and crime fiction mostly, then carted it out. She dumped it just when it got heavy, then sat down on top of it and crossed her ankles.
She stared at her father. He was too old, gray eyebrows, wrinkles and all the accoutrements that went with it. Certainly too old to continue with the business by himself.
“Have you considered what this could mean for your future? This man clearly wants one thing from you.” Her dad didn’t have the blanket on, and his cough had wheezed away on its own over the past few days.
“Yes, I’ve considered that, and I don’t have a choice right now.”
“Of course you do. Stay here with me like you have all along.” That was close to a plea from him. Adalia quirked her eyebrows at him, but he didn’t back down. “What, you don’t like living with your old man? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. Tell you what,” she said, tapping her chin with a finger, “I’ll stay if you’ll let me pay the rent and buy more groceries.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” The answer was immediate, and his jaw was set with stubborn resolve. The same kind she’d inherited from him. He wouldn’t budge on this point, that much was plain.
“Then I won’t be staying here. You don’t need the extra financial strain. It’s as simple as that.”
The doorbell rang and she stood, dusting off her hands. Butterflies jittered around in her stomach, reverse transformed into caterpillars and squirmed all over the inside of her rib cage, then swapped back to butterflies.
Trent was here to pick her up. Hopefully, her father wouldn’t give him too much stick, but judging by his demeanor that was too much to hope for.
Adalia unlocked the door and swung it open, then blinked a couple times. DeShawn stared back at her, sober and with a shirt on for a change. There was a green ‘M’ on the front, and his jeans were spotless.
“Hey, baby, I had to come see you to apologize for –” He noticed the boxes and a frown creased his dark forehead. The do-rag was off and his hair was in braids, like the night they’d first met.
“Now’s not a good time,” she said, and her father snorted out loud.
“What’s going on here?” DeShawn stroked his cheeks then swaggered inside. He lifted a hand to her father in greeting. “How you doing, man?”
“Much worse now that you’re here, boy. What the hell do you want?” Sylvester’s sweater was as wrinkled as his cheeks, and there was a spaghetti sauce stain on his checked shirt, like a blood stain.
“I came to talk to Dalie.” DeShawn gestured with his thumb. She checked the street and breathed a sigh of relief. Trent wasn’t in sight. That meant she still had some time to get rid of her ex before Trent turned up with a truck or a Cadillac or a goddamn helicopter, knowing him.
“Like I said, now really isn’t a good time, DeShawn.” Adalia held the door open for him, but he didn’t move toward it.
He kicked one of the boxes with his booted foot and her books toppled inside. “You going somewhere?”
Adalia rushed over and checked that there wasn’t any damage. “Watch it with these!”
“Where you going, Dalie?” DeShawn’s frown stayed put.
She patted her box of books then rose from her crouch with a soft sigh. She’d have to deal with him, because some part of her, whichever part, owed him that much at least.
“Dad—,” she said. Sylvester huffed before she could finish her sentence and walked off in the direction of the living room. The TV blared to life a few moments later, on a cartoon this time. He had a penchant for Daffy Duck.
“DeShawn, I’ve told you time and time again that it’s over between us and that I’m moving on.”
“Yeah, and I told you I ain’t givin’ up. You mine, girl.” He grinned, and the mixture of joy and the constant crinkling of his forehead disconcerted her.
“I’m not yours.” She folded her arms under her breasts and he openly admired them for a moment. “Hey, snap out of it. I’m not yours, DeShawn.”
“Then why you go out wit’ me?” He paused, ran a hand over his forehead and felt the wrinkles. “Wait, why all yo s**t packed up?”
“Because I’m moving out,” she said, finally. Better to rip the Band-aid off now. The street was still empty of her business partner, so she stepped up to the door and shut it halfway.
“Moving out?” He kicked the box again and she hissed at him, but he ignored it and continued, “Where you going?”
“I’m moving into an apartment.” Adalia considered the situation then nodded to herself, firmly. “I’m moving into one of Trent’s apartments.”
DeShawn’s shoulders came up fast and air whistled out of his nose. “What the f**k for?”
“Because he offered me a place and I took it.”
“So you take it from him but you don’t wanna live with me,” DeShawn stated. His voice echoed in the hallway and she guarded her boxes, just in case. She dropped down on top of them, utterly exhausted.
“I’ve told you I am not interested in being with you so many damn times I’ve actually lost count. You have no say over what happens in my life.” Adalia formed each word with calculated care, firing them at him so he would finally understand she meant business.
“b***h, you don’t get it.” DeShawn didn’t shout, he whispered it, and fear crawled into her heart.
“Don’t call me a bitch.”
“Well, you actin’ like one. You don’t get it. I love you. I wanna be wit’ you, and you trippin’, runnin’ around actin’ like you better than me.” DeShawn crouched down in front of her then stared deep into her eyes. “You think you better than me, but you go out wit’ me when I ask. You ain’t nothin’ but a ho.”
“Get out of my face,” she muttered, pushing him by his shoulders. He didn’t fall, merely rocked back for a second then regained his balance.
“You ain’t worth a damn, but you’s mine. You should feel lucky or some s**t, that I care enough to haul yo a*s out of trouble.” He gripped Adalia’s arm, fingers biting into the flesh.
“Let go of me,” she said, ripping from his grasp and rising quickly to hop back over the boxes and into the doorway.
The TV in the living room carried on, Daffy Duck spluttered, “That’s despicable.”
“Get the f**k out of here, right now.” Adalia pointed to the exit, and DeShawn moved toward her. A car horn honked outside and he stopped then hurried out onto the porch – maybe he thought it was Trent too.
But it wasn’t. A school bus rattled down the road. DeShawn turned to walk back inside and she slammed the door shut in his face, then triple locked it.
“You can’t hide from me, Dalie. You can’t hide from me forever.”
Heavy footsteps stomped away, but she didn’t open up until Trent called to her from the other side of the door.
- Writer
