The Past...

He stands 6'3. Chocolate complexion. Slim guy, who has gained weight thru the years but it looks good on him. He was always dressed sharp. Always perfectly accessorized. Always had the latest gear, the latest shoes, the latest everything..and always, took my breath away..until recently. We broke up in the late 90s and I thought my world would end. Actually, it did come crumbling down in a sense. I neglected my child, my friends and me during those "dark days". That's what I like to call that time in my life.. The "dark days".. cue music: dun dun dunnnn... I left him in a haze of exhaust fumes with pieces of my heart scattered on I295S... I left him when I finally got tired of the subterfuge of lies, games, and drama. Everyone around me was tired of the drama. My mother, my friends, me... but I still couldn't shake him. Even after the heartbreak.... even after the lies...even after the deception. I still felt connected to him, to Jersey, to everything...

I left Jersey in 2000 and started to settle into my new life in Georgia. But no one tells you when you're running from something it will follow you. No one prepares you for the road ahead.. There is no instructional manual. No guidelines. No rules. No step by step tutorial.. Just you and your wits. (If you got any) You have to forge ahead and deal with what comes... and that's what I did...or at least tried to do. I was still in constant contact with my past. Carefully, teetering a fine line to keep my past and present separate. Careful with the lies I told myself and the lies I told others. Careful not to mix the two or have them collide violently. Careful to manipulate the system just enough so I got what I needed and fuck anybody who got in my way... I was very careful... or so I thought.

My past came to visit me when I settled into my new place. The Queendom. My past wanted to see how I was living and if he could move down here. He came in on a Friday and we had a ball, that night. We went to a neighborhood spot with a few of my friends and had a good time. Dancing and drinking. Getting it in! I was glad he came. Maybe he will consider moving down. After we left my friends, we came back to my place and I decided to take a shower. Why did I do that? I came back to him sitting up in my bed and looking really crazy. I didn't think anything of it becuz I had been drinking. I thought he was just drunk. Unbeknownst to me, this dude had gone thru my things and found my journal. He read it and discovered I was seeing someone, who had a girlfriend, and I really liked him. He couldn't believe I could do such a thing. He got up in my face. I got up in his. He started yelling. I yelled back. He called me every name but my own. I returned the favor. He ran into my kitchen. I followed close behind. He's opening drawers and then I snap out of it. What is he looking for, I wondered. He grabs a knife and chases me back into my room..deep into my closet, pins me to the wall and he's holding the knife to my neck and he is screaming. I mean, this dude is belligerent. Crazy. Eyes wide open. Wild like a feral dog. I finally talk him down..well, God talked him down becuz I was scared shitless. We walk back into my room and he body slams me on the floor but my boot is there and I feel a crack and I know it's my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't cry. I'm in pain. Now what, genius? Who's idea was this again? Mine. Who's stupid now? Me. You know this cat is crazy. You know he has a jealous heart. Why would you leave your journal out? Damn that! Why would you invite him here? Becuz I thought he changed. I thought over time, he had changed.

Funny thing about time. Time makes you forget everything. Time makes you gloss over the bad parts of your life and focus on the good. Time makes you want to reconcile. Time makes you want to reconnect with what you lost and make everything better. Time is a lie. Had I been in my right frame of mind. I would have said, no, don't come when I felt that tinge in my gut as it came closer for him to come. Had I thought about it long and hard and LISTENED to my inner voice, I would have kept it moving...but noooo, here I am, laying on the floor with cracked ribs and a crazy man looming over me. Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep, that night or the next. First I was in pain and second, I didn't trust him NOT to kill me in my sleep. He picked me up and apologized. He tried to hold me but I refused and plus I was in pain. The next day, we went to my best friend's house and I told her what happened when he went to the bathroom and she just stared at me. I shook my head and said, I know. He's acting like nothing ever happened. Acting so loving, that I actually throw up in the bathroom. Why didn't I kick him out you ask? Good question. I still don't have an answer as I think back on it now. I know I couldn't wait for Sunday morning when it was time for him to leave. On the way to the airport, I'm quiet. He wants to know "What's wrong, Lish?" Really? You have to ask. We "discuss" the fallout and where we,... excuse me, where I went wrong and I told him, you're right. I'm wrong. As we pull up to the airport, I tell him, don't worry about it.. He won't ever be welcomed back to my door again and I pull off leaving him standing on the curb...

As I drive away, my phone rings.. it's him... What could he possibly have to say? He can't make it better. He can't make my ribs stop hurting. He didn't even believe me when I told him I was in pain and holding my side... So why is he calling? To say what? Part of me is saying, don't answer and the other part of me...is picking up the phone, hitting accept and saying...Hello?