Friends?

I was glad to be back in DC. The voice mail messages sailed through the room on the speakerphone. I turned it to the highest volume and listened intently while I opened windows to let fresh air and light on my plants. It was odd that Clint hadn’t called me back.

I picked up the receiver and dialed his place.

“Talk to me,” he answered.

“Clint. Hi. How was your holiday?”

“V, what’s up? It was cool. Very nice. How was yours? You went to LA, right?”

“Yeah, it was all right. I survived. I wanted to talk to you while I was there. Cedric didn’t know if you were coming to his place or not. What was that all about? You two not communicating these days?”

“Nah, nothing like that. Me and Cedric are always cool. I just had a lot to do, working and finding a place to live. I can’t stay here once I’m out of the residency program.”

I held the phone tight. “Can you come over . . . later? Right now I’m on my way out to pick up Sandy. But later?”

“Okay, I’ll come around, five?” He seemed anxious. “V, did you have a Merry Christmas?”

“Not really. What about you?”

“It was good. I mean, you know as good as those things go. Merry Christmas, V.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Clint.”

I shook off the foreboding fear that was trying to creep through my throat as I lay on the couch staring up at the ceiling. I’d have to swallow a lot of crow, but it would be worth it. I wanted him to know that I felt bad about the way I’d handled things. He needed to know I was a different person, ready to take responsibility for my own happiness, a whole person.

Her round little bottom switched over to me, waddling like a fat woman unable to control where it landed. Sandy ran across the floor to jump up on me. I kneeled down to let her sniff my face.

“Did you miss your mommy?” I tussled her ears, rubbing and patting her.

Wendy was standing over us with a less-enthused look.

“That dog has chewed up every pair of tennis shoes in this house.” Her slim hands rested on her hip. “Jamal thought it was funny and was feeding them to her, literally. Shaking the shoes at her.” She nudged the little coffee-dipped boy in the back of his head. “She’d rip right into one carrying it off under the bed or someplace, where nobody but her could find it. Then she’d go back and chew on it some more when nobody was looking.” She switched hips. “Never again. Never.”

“Were you a bad girl. Were you?” The baby talk was causing her tail to whip in full lashes around, fanning me with the motion. I stood up and gave Wendy a hug. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Wendy mocked.

I picked up the leash and attached it to Sandy’s collar. She tried to paw my hand away. The leash wasn’t her favorite accessory.

Wendy called out to me while I was getting in the car. “I see you finally got a pair of those hoochie pants. Got the heels, too.” She whooped a hearty laugh while she waved. “Looks good on you.” She reiterated more seriously, “You’re looking good. See you later, girl.”

It made me feel good that Wendy had noticed the change. While in Los Angeles I’d spent a small fortune at Bloomingdale’s and a trip to a European Day Spa with a mud bath, a full-body massage, facial, pedicure, and manicure, all worth every liberating dollar. But it wasn’t the work I’d done on the outside that I was most proud of, it was what happened on the inside. I’d spent every available moment working out the inner me. Rigorous, hard, no-pain-no-gain kind of sessions. Sitting in the middle of my old bedroom on the shag carpet my mother refused to replace, I would meditate. At first I didn’t quite know what I was doing. It became natural after a while, listening to my breathing, turning myself inside out so that all I could hear was myself, deep inside. Not the myself that wanted a fresh cup of coffee, or wondered what to wear for the day. It was a deeper self, the one that wanted to be heard, stroked, and understood. For hours, I’d just sit, running energy, feeling like I was floating, and that life was only a series of dreams, none more important than the other. During those quiet periods nothing was important except for the rebuilding, toning, and reshaping of my mind. I couldn’t remember ever being in better shape.

I drove slowly, savoring the ride down the Little River Turnpike, admiring the dated buildings made out of brick and wood. Clean. Dull and worn, but clean. The trees were leafless, but that’s how it was supposed to be, four seasons. I rode with the back windows down. Sandy’s small body was straining, sticking her face out to be voluntarily whipped by the freezing air. I played my radio loud. I blasted my Roy Ayers oldie but goodie “Searching.” This was the perfect setting. “Home is where the heartis,” I thought out loud. This place with its stubborn and obtuse traffic lights on every corner, narrow pathways, and old buildings was home. I pulled into Whisper Creek, noticing the white Jetta parked in front of my house. I was thankful. This was my life. This was my home. It could only get better.

Clint got out before I was stopped completely. He walked up to my car door and opened it.

“How ya doing, V? You’re looking good.” He reached in over me, picking up the little brownish, blond mop of fur. “Hey, pretty girl. Hey.” Sandy wagged her tail.

I felt the same way, seeing Clint. I wanted to jump into his arms and pant and lick his face. Tell him I missed him madly. That would have to wait, though. First, I had some explaining to do.

Sundays were usually used for writing in her journal and thinking about the week’s lesson plans for her third-graders. Most of the time Kandi used it for solitude and a healthy dose of relaxation. But today she was jittery, nervous about Clint going to see Venus. What if he fell right back into her arms? There wasn’t anything she could do about it.

She accepted his judgment. He wanted to tell Venus in person about them, make sure things were square, as he put it. Kandi poured the hot water from the teakettle, letting the steam rise up into her face. She dipped the tea bag while envisioning their reunion. She could see Clint holding Venus in his strong muscular arms, rubbing his hands across her hairless skull.

Imagining the two of them together made the sparse blond hairs on her almond skin stand up. She hated this feeling of insecurity.

She pictured Clint picking up the phone at Venus’s instruction, calling to tell her it was over between them, he and Venus were back together, and of course he was sorry, he’d never meant to hurt her.

Kandi jumped, startled from the intercom sounding. She ran over and pressed the entrance button without hesitation, anxious to hear the news, good or bad. In the few minutes it took for him to get from the lobby to her front door, she sat down, she stood up, she walked to the door, took a deep breath, and swung it open.

“You must really be happy to see me.” He stepped in from out of the corridor, picking her up, spinning her around. “Missed me?” Tyson put Kandi down and moved past her into the living room.

She was still orbiting. “Tyson. What are you doing? I told you . . .”

“You’ve told me lots of times, Kandi. I’m just checking to see which one we’re on today.” He stretched out on the plush sofa and rested his hardly worn Timberlands on the whitewashed pine coffee table.

“Well, I’m telling you now.” She kept the door opened, wide. “You have to leave. Please.” The desperation in her voice was hard to mask.

“You’re expecting company,” Tyson guessed. “How sweet. I’d like to meet him. He’s got to be one smooth brother to have you coming and going—the way you’ve been acting.” He let out a disbelieving grunt. “What did he promise you?” He stayed reclined with his hands relaxed behind his head.

“Not now, Tyson. Really. Not now,” Kandi pleaded.

“Sounds to me like he may be on his way. Is that it?”

“That’s right. He’s on his way and if I were you, I’d vacate the premises.”

“Is that supposed to scare me? I’d actually like to meet him. Compare notes, that kind of thing.”

“You son of a bitch. You have no right!” Kandi was sick of his games, his lies, his assumption that she had nothing to do but wait.

“Easy, baby. Take it easy. No need in being loud.” Tyson stood up and touched Kandi’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You want me gone, just ask me nicely.”

She swallowed the huge lump that was sitting on the back of her throat. She felt prickly beads of perspiration making their way down her shirt. “Tyson, will you please leave?”

“No problem, baby, I just have one request and then I’ll be on my merry way.” He leaned into her body, pushing her against the door, making it close. He flipped the deadbolt. For one instant, through her terror she wished Clint were on his way and would bust through the door and save her the way it happens in the movies. But in the next second she realized, the last thing she wanted was for Clint to walk in. How would she explain this man with his hands wrapped around her neck, demanding what he felt was his due? Were you still seeing him? Why did you lie?

“Noooo!” she screamed as she began to fight.

“You’re early. Got a hot date you’re trying to get me out of the way for?” It was a nervous, silly laugh I let out.

Clint responded with the same.

“Not really.” He kept his sunglasses on, but showed a half-sincere grin.

“C’mon in.” I washed my hands and went straight into the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

He played with Sandy on the couch, tossing her face back and forth between his hands. She snapped at him once or twice, intensifying their reunion. “Whatever you have is fine,” he called out.

I stared into my bare refrigerator. “I haven’t had a chance to do any grocery shopping since I got back from LA.” I carried a glass of faucet water to him. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right.” He sipped the chromium-tasting fluid to be polite.

“So you go first. What did you want to talk to me about?” I sat down on the barstool, letting my left foot remain on the ground for stability.

“No, you called me, remember?” Changing his mind, he put the glass down and leaned into himself. “Actually, I wanted to make sure the air was clear between us. I’ve been straight up baffled by all this bullsh . . .” He corrected himself. “I’ve been trying to figure out what happened. You know. It’s like a damn dream, a nightmare. And it’s just been pissing me off that I can’t understand it.” His voice moved in different highs, then low. “And it’s not like I’m never going to get over it. I mean, I’m through, you know. I’m not going to be hassling you anymore. I threw in the towel, but it’s still eating the shit out of me. What the hell happened?” Clint removed his sunglasses. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, dull, and tired. He probably hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he’d moved into that roach motel.

I gulped in large amounts of air involuntarily. I didn’t know how to explain what had happened. I felt like a child who’d been asked to confess her mischief, make a parent understand the workings of a mind that isn’t yours.

“I’ll do my best to explain. I was feeling a lot at the time. I felt like I had given all that I had to give and felt pretty hopeless, about me, us, as a couple.” His eyes glazed over. Men generally didn’t understand abstract; they needed concrete interpretations, what, when, how, and exactly what was he watching on television at the time.

“Not that you were making me a bad person,” I continued. “I wasn’t being true to myself. I thought that’s how you make someone love you, by being perfect, hiding your flaws. I wanted to be perfect for you, what I thought perfection was. You know, the endless workout sessions, keeping my hair up-tight.”

He chuckled a little bit, probably remembering the many times I had to choose between the lights, gas bill, and my hair salon visits.

“It was a lot of work. Don’t laugh.” After being chastised, he quickly returned to the serious expression he’d started out with. “It was a strain, to be honest. And I started to blame you for the burden. I thought if I kept up the pace, I’d win in the end. I’d get the man, the kids, the deal packaged tight. But you weren’t giving me enough to go on, and I was getting tired of keeping up the pace for nothing. I wanted you to respond by putting me out of my misery. I thought if we just got married, I could stop working so hard. Relax.”

He shook his head in confusion. “By working so hard, you mean, physically? I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, I mean exactly that. I was in a state of constant motion. Always. Even when I was relaxing I was concentrating on how I was going to look the next day. How my hair was going to be styled, what kind of clothes I was going to wear.”

“And you’re saying you did all that for me. Or, you thought you were doing it all for me? You’re saying you threw away four years of my life, our life together, because you were tired of looking good for me? All this shit, is about your . . . your hair, your appearance? Is that what you’re telling me, V? ’Cause if it is, that’s pretty fucked up.”

“It’s not that simple. It is, but then it isn’t. It wasn’t just about my hair and appearance.” I was getting nervous. He shook his head in confusion. No matter how I tried to explain, it really did appear to be so small and petty, when in my head and my heart, I knew it was bigger than this entire room. It was large and dangerous, hanging ominously over every exterior part of my life, like a scab that would not heal, or rain that would never stop falling. Every day, in every way, my life had been affected by the stages of my hair, the hair that was an extension of my every thought. It was only natural that it defined my relationship as well.

“It was the whole attitude, ‘the give ’em all you’ve got’ mantra. I’m trying to explain how I interpreted this. I thought if I could be all that I could be and giving all I had to give, you would want me, forever, for keeps. Still things weren’t going in the direction I wanted. It just seemed like you really didn’t want me, even in perfection, so I thought, ‘why bother?’ Why should I keep up this pace, playing this false game, keeping myself up to what I thought were your standards, when you really didn’t want me anyway, when you showed up for my birthday without the ring . . . I thought, to hell with this. He doesn’t love me. He’s never going to marry me, so why keep waiting. I was tired of waiting for the day you when would say, ‘hey, she’s everything I could ever want, what am I waiting for?’ By cutting off my hair, I was cutting you out of my life. I’d given up on us.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? We were together for four years, V. All that time just thrown down the drain ’cause you were tired. I was tired, too, but I held on. Do you know how hard it was living here day to day, knowing I wasn’t giving you everything, hell giving anything, for that matter? I couldn’t even pay my share of the house note. Do you know how that made me feel? No man wants to feel less than a man. I fought with myself every day living here, under your roof, and to see you become so unhappy, all I could do was blame myself. Then you started in about how much I owed you. It seemed like every conversation we had turned into a tally sheet. I couldn’t stand up to that shit, but I also couldn’t be wheedled down by it either. I knew you wanted to get married, bad. There was no way I could bring myself to ask you to marry me when it felt like I had a gun in my back. Couldn’t you see that? The timing was just all wrong.”

“I didn’t see it then, but I do now.” He had always accused me of pushing too hard, being aggressive, but those were my good traits, at least I thought they were. Those were the things that were going to get me where I wanted to be in this world.

“I never meant to make you feel small or inadequate, Clint. I just went after what I wanted and that was you. Isn’t that what we’re all taught? To go full steam ahead, take what you want out of life, because no one is going to give it to you.”

He shook his head, “No, I was taught the exact opposite. Not to take, but to give everything I’ve got, and eventually the good things will follow. I gave, what little of me was left, to you, V. Why couldn’t you see that?”

“I realize now how wrong I was. It all backfired. It seems like everything in my life lately has backfired—my determination has knocked down the wrong walls and I don’t like any of what I see.” I stared down at the rug, which was now bent on the corners from me nervously pushing it back and forth with my foot.

“I wish we could have talked about all this, V.”

“I didn’t know. I had some growing to do, but now I know I can’t force things to happen, especially when I’m constantly in fear of the worst. Even when I’ve been hopeful, it seems I allowed some cloud to creep into my thoughts and make me second-guess myself. It wasn’t clear before.”

“And now it is? I still don’t understand how you could just throw up your hands.” Clint stopped talking abruptly. Staring out the window, caught in some kind of epiphany, he spoke slowly. “Did you ever love me, V? Was it all about the payoff, did you ever just love me?” When he blinked, I watched a small tear trace the curve of his face.

“I’m so, so, sorry for hurting you. I never stopped loving and caring about you. I wish we could start over.” This was his cue. He was supposed to walk over to me, slide his hands around my face, kiss me softly, tell me he was glad this roller-coaster ride was over, and that he loved me, too, for who I was inside, always had, and the hair didn’t matter, the look, none of it mattered. I could have naps the size of robin’s eggs and he’d still love me. That’s what this was all about; I never believed he could love me unconditionally due to the simple fact that I had not loved myself unconditionally.

He rose up and reached out for my hand. “I’ll always care about you, too. I wish things would have worked out differently. I may not have showed it, but I did love you. I’m not going to lie and say looks aren’t important to me, or to any man or woman. It matters. It does. But it was never the only thing I cared about. I’m sorry I gave you that impression.” He smoothed his hand over my round head. “I told you this was cool with me. Just shows off your pretty face. I guess it’s sort of the same way I thought you felt about me, that all you truly cared about was my becoming a doctor. We were both so afraid of being found out, seen without the props, simply being a man and a woman able to love each other for what we were.”

I sniffed back the trickle that was trying to make its way out to ruin what was a poetic and loving moment. I’d never heard Clint speak so eloquently. I pressed his hand into my cheek and closed my eyes as a sign of relief, until I heard his final words.

“I’m glad it’s over . . . I’m glad we don’t have to keep beating each other up with blame. I always want us to be friends.”

I swallowed hard. The words were tap-dancing on my forehead.

Always, friends?

That was meant for people who were well on their way to the next lifetime. I panicked. Should I fight? Would I be doing it all over again, standing up for what I wanted? I took a step off the barstool, landing on both feet miraculously, and took a deep breath and funneled words out of the logical side of my brain.

“What are you talking about, friends? I thought we could . . . are you seeing someone else? I mean, for keeps?” I touched his face, but he turned away. I knew who the “someone else” was without a doubt. Women like her worked fast and hard.

I drew in a breath. “Okay . . . well, then, I guess that’s that.” I kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you came. I really do wish you the best.” The words tumbled out slowly and reverberated back through my eardrum like I was underwater.

“Take care,” he whispered, dropping my hand to suffice on its own. He walked out the door. I heard the click of the knob fall back into place and I let it out, the wail, the sob that made Sandy skitter to my side, sniffing all around me for the cause of pain, seeking out where it must hurt to make me cry so loud.

He’d never understand. Not fully. It was too late to worry about it now, after all, there was a new situation on his plate. He wanted things to work out right for a change. He didn’t know why it had taken so long for him to let go. But sitting there, listening to Venus made him realize she wasn’t the only guilty party. He was equally to blame. Four years, in all that time he couldn’t see it. That he’d loved only an image of Venus, the beautiful woman, strong, and intelligent, everything he’d thought would make the perfect partner. He never stopped to listen to the small voice in his head telling him that he had only scratched the surface. Either he hadn’t looked deep enough, or she’d kept it all under guard where he could not get to it. He needed more. It had been so easy to let her lead the way, to make the rules and decisions. It was a pattern he was determined to break. It was all right. Better late than never. He was on his way to a woman that would give him everything he needed. Faith in him, love, trust, it wasn’t any more complicated than that. She believed in him and he believed in her. And most importantly, he believed in himself. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what or who to be anymore.

The Jetta felt like a rocket ship when he moved it into fifth gear and headed up the 95 Interstate.

The more Kandi resisted, the harder he pushed down, until she was stationed on her knees in front of his crotch.

“Tyson. No!” She felt the pressure of his hands pushing on her shoulders. He quickly began pulling his zipper down.

There was no way Kandi would give in to his power play. She would die fighting. She kept struggling, even with the sound of her hair being ripped from the pores in her scalp as she tried to pull away. She scratched at his exposed skin. She knew she had hurt him as soon as she felt the numbing thickness of too much flesh under her nails.

She braced herself for his wrath. He pushed her away hard, knocking her over backwards and sending her crashing into the corner of the wall. She should have felt pain, but instead she was in shock, burning with anger. With all her strength she got up and lunged at him. Tyson blocked her wild swinging arms, twisting her around and sealing her in his grip as she kept struggling.

“I’ll let whatever you think is better than me die down,” he breathed into her ear. “I’ll hold on to these for when you come to your senses.” He jingled the set of keys to Kandi’s apartment hanging on his index finger in front of her face. The little silver elephant swung around like a hostage on the nickel ring of the keys.

“Get out!” She screamed louder than she knew was possible. But the piercing scream came once again, and she knew it was coming from her body, it wasn’t her imagination. “Get the fuck out of here! Get out!”

When Kandi finally opened her eyes to focus, all she could see was his tan suede boot clearing the door before it closed. He had shoved her back to the floor. He mumbled something about her getting over it, and he would be waiting when she did. She couldn’t believe she was lying on the floor, and Tyson Edwards had put her there. Had she really been taken for someone with little or no self-worth? All this time she half believed he cared, maybe not on a grand scale, but a little. She had believed he wanted the best for her, and that somewhere in his misshapen logic, she mattered, only to come to the realization that she was nothing to him. Probably at the end of a long string of nothings.

The excruciating pain was loud, thundering through her temple. There was a life-size lump forming on the left side of her head, too tender to touch. The ice she managed to catch from falling to the floor, and wrap in a kitchen towel, seemed to make the pain scream louder. She stood against the refrigerator, preparing herself for the inevitable flood of tears. She steadied herself for the rush of sorrow that was ready to peak, when she remembered she had no time for it now. All her pain would have to wait in a neatly tied ball until she could get to it.

Clint would be there at any moment. She would never be able to explain this other man’s right to touch her, in violence or in pleasure.

She ran to the window out of instinct and spotted the Jetta parked on the street. But where was Clint?

Kandi gasped as she watched the two of them, Clint and Tyson, accidentally bump into one another, shoulder to shoulder. Tyson turned around, still heated, watching as Clint passed. Clint walked up to the double-paned doors of the building, completely unaware of the daggers aimed at his back. Tyson took a hesitant step in Clint’s direction.

Kandi’s lips started moving in an incoherent chant. Her mind was thinking, Please keep going. Please don’t come back, Tyson. Please. But the words coming out of her mouth made no sense. She pressed her palms against the window and closed her eyes. It was the first prayer she’d said in quite a while. Not actually a prayer, more like an exchange, a promise like the one she’d made when she’d heard Basil had tested positive for HIV. They’d only slept together once, and once was too many. Basil, Basil, what was his last name. She couldn’t even remember his face. But she remembered running down to the county health department to have herself tested, instead of the medical center on the university’s campus, so no one would know her. She’d prayed for the entire two-week waiting period, every day, all day, that if she got through this, she’d never sleep with another man out of wedlock again. Fornication was the word she’d found in the Bible.

It was a sin.

Two weeks of praying and private salvation seeking had granted her a negative test. She stayed celibate for three glorious months after that.

Where was that Bible? She couldn’t recall. The gold lettering embossed on white leather came to her mind. The inside flap had her name and birth date written in her father’s handwriting. Kandace Lillian Treboe, October 15, 1969.

Daddy.

This time the exchange would be simpler. Justifiable. Accountable. Reasonable. “I will love him, and take care of him with all of my heart, dear God. I will be true to him in my mind, my heart, my body, and my soul. He will never have to want or need for anything in this lifetime that I can provide. Oh please, dear God.”

Kandi opened her eyes to see Tyson turn around and face his car. He stepped off the curb, tweaked his car alarm and unlocked the door with one push of a button. He slipped into the driver’s side of his shiny Jaguar and drove away.

Her heart was surging, pulsating, making her head hurt worse with each beat. She ran to the bathroom, throwing water on her face, and tousling her hair, doing her best to cover what she knew were bare spots in her scalp. She threw the torn shirt in the closet and slipped another one over her head. By the time she’d finished, Clint had already been ringing the buzzer for some time. She pushed the security release without saying anything over the intercom. She waited behind the door, this time waiting until she could see who it was in full view through the peephole.

Kandi pulled Clint inside for the air she needed to breathe. His black leather jacket was cool, chilling, against her exposed middle. She slid the coat off his arms, letting it fall to the ground. She didn’t ask any questions about his visit with Venus. She just kept kissing him, feeling around his wide back, around to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt, using only the sight of her fingers. He squeezed her back, causing her to wince. She ignored the pain until it faded away. He backed her into the couch, one slow step at a time.

She sent herself away. She wasn’t in this room, this place anymore. She was lying in the moist Bermuda sand. She could feel his hands moving all over her oil-tanned body, warmed from the sun. We’re making love on the beach, she thought. No one there but the two of them, their bodies stuck together. She was immersed in the fantasy, the contrast of his dark skin engulfed in the tangy brown nakedness of hers. She threw her head back. He pushed his face into hers.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Kandi opened her eyes to take note of her surroundings. She wasn’t imagining his words. It wasn’t part of the fantasy. It was real. She focused on the stark white walls, the contemporary finished furniture, the collection of crystal, ivory, and wood, all in the shape of elephants placed on the glass shelf.

Kandi pulled his head up to meet her face. “I love you, too.”

The click of the number rolling over to display a prominent three on the clock radio was the loudest sound in the room. Somehow they had ended up in Kandi’s bed. Their mutual crescendo had left them in a deep slumber. She stirred first and started running her fingers around the outline of his mouth. She pulled herself up close to his face and kissed him gently on his lips. His eyes opened.

“So what should we do today?” he asked, as if he’d never actually fallen asleep, and it wasn’t three o’clock in the morning.

“Well, when the sun comes up, we’re going to look for a new place to live.” She traced his eyebrow, kissed him there.

“What’s wrong with here? You don’t think there’s enough room for both of us? I guess I can’t fit in here with all your state-of-the-art computer equipment, huh?” He still had a groggy tone.

“Too crowded. That’s for sure.” Kandi traced his dark areola, and shaped her mouth around it, skimming it before bringing her lips to a close.

“Hey, hey, these aren’t made like yours, they’re not meant for sucking.”

“How about something else, then.” Kandi reached down, taking a handful. “Is this meant for sucking?”

He let his head fall back, sinking deeper in the pillow. They were submerged once more in each other.

When morning officially arrived and the room was brightened by daylight, Kandi found Clint leaning over her. At first she smiled, realizing this was the first day of the rest of their lives together. The smile quickly disappeared when she saw Clint’s horrified expression.

“What happened to your neck and arms?” He leaned in closer like a doctor examining a patient. “How did you get those bruises? What happened?”

Kandi felt her throat and mouth go dry. Her hand drifted to the places that hurt, only imagining what he must’ve seen on her soft brown skin. The colors, black and blue, raised with swelling. She traced over the areas. When she tried to sit up, a dull ache caused her to lie back down. She hadn’t felt her body trying to heal itself during the night. Tissue gorging itself with blood so that it could rebuild. Muscles broken down from strain, mending slowly layer after layer. The natural process of healing took time. Then, everything would be fine.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, then went into the bathroom and came out holding two moist towels. He laid one in the crevice of her neck and shoulder, and the other across the top of her chest. “Kandi?”

His eyes were afraid, she didn’t want him to be afraid. They would move into a new place, start a new life, together. No one would be able to hurt them again. She lifted her hand and smoothed it over his cheek. It would be all right. They would heal together.

“Kandi! Tell me what happened to you!”

She rolled over slowly, unable to face him when she had crushed his heart. He’d given it to her for safekeeping and all he’d asked was for her to take care. If she didn’t, he’d sworn he would take it back.