as a sign from above that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place.
My moment of weaknesses had passed. Now, I was okay. Anger replaced the longing for Blunt that had led to me calling him. I became more determined than before to let him go on about his business. Those children that he had fathered behind my back were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
I strolled back and forth from the kitchen to my bedroom in deep thought. I had to find a way to get over Blunt and move on to bigger and better. Like my cousin kept drilling in my head, it was time for me to wise up and stop letting him walk all over me like I was a dusty rug.
I deserved to be treated so much better. Suddenly, I recalled something that I had heard my college roommate say years ago. She said that the easiest way to get over someone is to converse with someone new. That was exactly what I intended to do.
I marched into the library and flicked on the light switch behind the door. I went over to the bookshelf where I kept my little black book. It was dusty from lack of use. I flipped it open and searched the pages until I came across my old high school sweetheart, Fabian's, phone number.
Three months ago, I had gone back home to Memphis, Tennessee to attend my ten- year class reunion. Fabian had been there, looking as fine as ever. It was a surprise to see him because last I heard he was locked up for assault with attempt to murder. That was no surprise at all because underneath the scholar student that Fabian had been in school, there had always lived a real bad boy.
When I asked about the trouble that he had gotten himself into, he explained it away as being a whole lot to do about nothing. I accepted his explanation along with his number, but I had told him that I was involved in a serious relationship.
"I understand, Molaysia, and I would never trespass on that. Just take my number and if things don't work out, give me a call," he'd said.
That night at the reunion, we had talked for hours, reminiscing and laughing about days gone by. Fabian told me that he owned two well-known nightclubs in Atlanta. He also made it a point to mention that he was single with no children.
"That's wonderful," I remarked.
"Not really," he disagreed. "I want a wife and children." He had looked at me with a look that I knew well.
I cleared my throat to hide my nervousness. I could never forget him because I had given him my virginity. We had dated for four years, but we eventually went in opposite directions after college. The strain of attending two different colleges and hardly seeing one another had contributed to our break up. It was quite a surprise that we both had relocated to Atlanta.
"Do you ever miss me, Mo'?" he asked that night.
I didn't respond to the question because it would have been inappropriate. Now, it was okay to give him an honest answer.
I went to bed that night trying to conjure up the nerve to give Fabian a call. By mid afternoon the next day, I had gathered up the courage to follow through on my thoughts. I went in the living room and dialed his number from my cell while my heart began racing faster than a military airplane. I was so nervous it was pathetic. The second that I heard his voice, I lost my nerve and hung up.
A few seconds later my phone rang, and Fabian's number came up on the screen. "Hello," I answered, sounding like the shy school girl that I had been when we first met.
"I'm sorry, but did someone just call me from this number?" he asked.
“Yes, this is Molaysia. How are you?”
“What’s been up with you, Girl?” He chuckled a bit. I could tell from the surprise in his tone that he had a smile as wide as the sky.
I plopped down on my leather recliner and twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “Not much. Same ole’ things just a different day."
"That doesn't sound very exciting. A woman like you deserves to smile every day."
"Life isn't quite like that," I said ruefully.
"Well, maybe you should think about making some changes in your life?" he suggested. "What is it that blocks your happiness?"
That began an