Blackfunk
"Get the hell out," Andria screamed at the figure lying on the bed, naked except for a red condom on his penis. "Why the hell did you have to go and do that?" She stood holding on to the doorknob.
"I told you, Paul, I don't want this shit. I am twenty-six years old and I am tired of the games." A stream of tears flowed from her eyes down her face. "And-look at you-thirty-six years old and still doing the same old shit you use to do when you were twenty." "Andria, can I explain?"
"Explain what! Paul there is no need for explanation.
The picture is as clear as day." "Don't we all make mistakes?" Paul leaned back on the headboard. He felt like a cigarette right now, even though he had recently given up smoking. "I never said I was perfect."
"You know what, Paul, just get the fuck out." She couldn't stop the rain from bathing her cheeks. "Okay, I understand you're a little bit upset, but I want to come back when you have calm down." He got off the bed. "Who the hell do you think I am Paul? Do you think you gonna walk out and come back two hours later and everything will be okay."
"Listen to me." "Paul, get the fuck out before I stab your ass!" This time she started to make her way towards the kitchen, her eyes red and bulging. This was not the life she had envisioned. Everything was all fucked up.
"Crazy bitch," Paul muttered under his breath as his eyes swept the room looking for his pants. He took a swipe at the rest of the colored condoms that lay on the night table. There were six remaining from the pack of a dozen he brought two days ago. He turned and looked at her with a smirk on his face, not a hint of remorse. He had given her two years of his life, maybe not totally, but she was always his Number One. His body felt hot and sticky. He put his pants on without his underwear; he hadn't the faintest idea where they were or what Florence had done with them. And of course, now was not the right time to go looking for the fucking underwear. He had other things to worry about, including his love standing, threatening to call the police. He was angry that she was telling him to leave. It may have been her apartment, but he was paying half the rent. "Paul, I gave you everything! Why? Why? Look at me. There is nothing left to give." "I'm sorry," he said as he looked at her and agreed with her statement.
He couldn't understand what went wrong. He thought he had played it safe. Andria was supposed to be at work until 5:00 p.m. He estimated it took her about one hour to get home. Florence had called him fifteen minutes after 11:00; she told him she was hot for him. The last time Florence was in heat he had to wear an ice pack on his dick for hours, but it was worth every bit of that ice. He called Andria's job to make sure she was there. Mrs. Patterson, the short plump secretary on Andria's job, had said that Andria was in a meeting. City workers are always in meetings, meetings being one of the main reasons that there were few competent city agencies. He wondered how the city workers ever got anything done when they had this excessive amount of paperwork to muddle through and always had to attend meetings. He pressed the talk button on the phone and praised God that Mrs. Patterson's high-pitch voice was a distant memory. He hadn't given Andria her customary goodbye morning kiss because he heard her coughing last night. It didn't make any sense for them both to have a cold. Besides, she'd had that cold for over a week already, and it seemed to be getting worse. He hated colds. It made him feel like shit, though he didn't know exactly what shit felt like. He had told Andria that he wasn't going in today because he was feeling a little bit under the weather. He also had to fix the car to get it ready for their trip on Sunday. She knew his mechanic, a Jamaican immigrant named Rupert. Rupert was an excellent mechanic, but his rambling on and on made a simple ten-minute job take up to an hour. He told everyone who came to do repairs his life story, and boy did Rupert have a fucked up life story.
Paul actually did go to see Rupert. Rupert told him his car brakes needed a minor adjustment. Fifteen minutes later and twenty dollars poorer, he was back at his house relaxing, watching "Love Connection." It was after the show that Florence called. She was surprised to find him home, and she wanted to know if she could stop by on her way to the supermarket. She was going to bring Peter, her son, but she thought it might be better if she left him with her neighbor.
