It was 7:00 a.m., and my phone was ringing.
Wow. I was not picking up the phone, but if I didn’t, he would just continue to call this muthafucka until I picked it up. I argued with myself for a few more minutes, still not answering.
Okay, fuck it, here we go. While I had been modulating on whether or not to answer the phone, he had called twice more.
I answered. “Hello.”
“Welcome to Global Tel Link. You have a call from an inmate at Pickaway County Correctional Institution. Press one to accept charges,” the recording spoke.
I pressed one.
“Thank you for using Global Tel Link. Your call is being connected.”
The next voice I heard on the other end of the line was Lyulle’s. He lay it into me.
“Bitch, I’ve been calling you since 6:00 p.m. yesterday. Why didn’t you answer my calls? Where were you at? You got off work at 5:30 p.m. I gave you a half hour to get home. You only live fifteen minutes away from your job.”
“I’m sorry, Lyulle, my phone died, and I—”
“So your phone was dead all night?”
“Ummm-hmmm.”
“You knew I’d be calling you. What were you doing?”
“I went to the bar to unwind a bit. After working at Macy’s, I went to Jiggly’s with Kelice. My phone died, and I didn’t charge it when I got home.”
“Okay, okay. Where is Kelice? She still with you?”
“No,” I replied.
“Okay, okay. Well, it sounds like you were still sleeping. What time will you be getting up? Don’t you have to work today?”
“Yes. I work at Macy’s today, 1:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.”
“Okay. What time you want me to call you back?” he asked.
I do not want you to call me back, I imagined telling him.
“I’ll be up by 9:00 a.m. Can you call me back then?”
“Yes. I’ll call you back at 9:00 a.m. sharp.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Click. He hung up. No “I love you.” No endearments. The chore of the constant jail calls, hanging up, calling right back between fifteen-minute intervals—it was exhausting.
“Are you good?” Dion asked me from the living room where we’d just slept that night.
“Yes, I am fine,” I said.
“Jericho, are you going to be okay?”
“Yes. I will be okay too. He’s gonna call me back at 9:00 a.m., so I have to be ready.”
“I have to get going too. My kids will be up, and Marcy will be up too,” Dion said to me.
“Okay, I understand. I am gonna shower.”
“Call me later?”
“Absolutely.”
“Kiss?” he asked.
“Muah!” The sound of our juicy wet kiss made my heart skip a beat.
“I’ll see you at the bar tonight.”
He left quickly, hustling and disappearing down the two flights of stairs from my Alexander Court luxury apartment building and into his car.
An hour of peace until Lyulle calls, I thought to myself. A text from Dion appeared just as I had turned to place my phone on the arm of the couch, where I often laid it to easily find it in the apartment.
“Hey, sexy. I can’t stop thinking about you,” I read it aloud. “I’m home,” was the text that followed.
I would not text back out of respect. The thought of him made me cream. I’d lie down in the bed when I was home alone, never letting a man lay his head on Lyulle’s pillows. We’d talked about that before, Lyulle and me. The rule was, “No bitches and no niggas in the bed ever,” I guess in an attempt to keep it somewhat sacred, and our son did sleep there. Drifting to sleep, I could not help but think of Dion’s kisses on my lips and neck last night.
“I can’t wait to see him later at the club tonight,” I said silently.