Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RHYAN
The doctors and nurses moved in and out of Chauncey’s room like clockwork.
The machines emitted beeping sounds. IVs dripped and monitors blinked.
And I sat in this stiff-ass chair like a guard dog refusing to leave her damn post for what to watch this nigga sleep peacefully while I smash on his bitches.
Forty-eight hours.
I hadn’t slept properly in two days. Every time I closed my eyes, somebody adjusted something. Checked something. Asked something. And this chair? It might as well have been concrete.
I wanted a shower.
Fresh clothes.
Something soft against my skin.
But I knew myself.
Suppose I step outside for too long. I might not come back. Every time I step aside to breathe some fresh air, I hear that little voice telling me to get the fuck on. Running has always been easier than staying.
Outside is fresh air, freedom, and Dallas.
The life I built without him. Inside this room? It’s history. It’s pain. It’s unfinished business. And I hate that part of me still belongs here. I stared at Chauncey’s face. Even bruised, even hooked up to machines, he was still him.
I still love him. That’s the part that nobody understands. I know what kind of nigga Chauncey is. I haven’t dealt with his bullshit in a year.
Not the late nights.
Not the rumors.
Not the quiet disrespect.
And yet here I am.
Sitting beside him as if nothing had changed. For the time being, while I’m here, it’s up for any bitch. I know for a fact there were at least five bitches in the waiting room who were there for Chauncey.
It could have been more. I love Chauncey; I always will. That will never change, but I refuse to share my space with another woman. I just cannot.
“Hey, Laila Ali… I heard you beat some ass the other night.”
I turned toward the door, and there was Bianca, of course.
Shit, I didn’t even notice a big smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Bianca walked in with two iced lattes and a bag from the bakery, as if she knew I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Thank God, because I’m hungry and thirsty.
I was wondering what time she was coming by. I need a strong cup of coffee after the night I had. I planned to run to the cafeteria earlier, but I’m tired. I didn’t want to bust a move.
I forgot to text Bianca after my altercation with Chauncey’s hoe. It slipped my mind. I’m not surprised Simmy told his wife what was up. He couldn’t wait to air my shit out.
“Hey, B… I see Simmy is still running his goddamn mouth.”
Bianca nodded as she handed me a latte and a pastry. Bianca and Simmy are close, so I’m not surprised. I want to know who this bitch is and why she thought it was important to step to me and get her ass put the fuck down. I’m only coming one way, and that’s fucking hard on any hoe.
“He sure is.”
“Umm….”
I took a long sip. The caffeine hit me instantly. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I shrugged.
“It happened so fast. I was trying to ignore this bitch, but she kept fucking with me, and I just spazzed the fuck out.”
One of the reasons I didn’t call is that I’m not trying to have the conversation we are about to have. I’m not the fucking one. I’m already on one because there were so many bitches here last night for this nigga.
I’m tired of fighting for my place when it comes to Chauncey. Granted, we are still married, but we are not together right now.
“Rhy,” Bianca said gently, “you’ve barely been back forty-eight hours.”
“B, it does not matter,” I shot back. “Bitches always want to show their ass behind a married man they know is not theirs. I’ll beat a bitch ass every fucking time.”
Shit, and right now, he’s not mine either.
“True, Rhy, but you don’t have to react.”
I let out a breath.
I’m not sure why Bianca expects anything less from me. I’m not taking the high road with these hoes on any fucking day. If she were in my shoes, trust me, she wouldn’t be saying this shit.
“I know, but it’s always some shit with this hoe-ass nigga. See, my problem is that bitches don’t know their place with him. If Chauncey is married to ME, they shouldn’t have a fucking place at all, period. See, this is why I left his unfaithful ass in the first fucking place.”
With beseeching eyes, Bianca practically begged me not to take it there. I don’t give a fuck. I needed to say that. Suppose Chauncey doesn’t hear shit else while he’s in a coma.
I want him to hear this. Although I’m aware Chauncey is unconscious and in a coma, I still want him to fucking listen to me.
I said what the fuck I said. These are the kinds of patients I see daily.
The only way to bring this nigga out of a coma is to make him uncomfortable by hearing what I have to say, a year later.
Silence still filled the hospital room. The monitors continued to beep. Chauncey still hadn’t moved, and that’s when it really hit me.
I’m not just fighting these thirsty-ass bitches. I’m fighting the version of myself that keeps choosing Chauncey.
“Rhy, chill.”
Bianca knows what type of time I’m on.
“Aye, B, I was chilling’ the moment I touched back down in the city.” I shot back. “Please believe me when I say I was trying really fucking hard not to pop off with one of Chauncey’s hoes, but I cannot…
I don’t give a fuck about what they got going on with this hoe-ass nigga. However, a bitch is going to respect me, voluntarily or involuntarily. I want this cheating-ass, community-dick-ass nigga to hear me out.
Because I know he can fucking hear me, no matter how many machines they got his ass hooked up to or how many sedatives they have him on. I know his friendly dick ass can hear me.”
“Rhy, I know, but this is not the place.”
“Oh, fucking well, that’s his problem, not mine. Chauncey has been disturbing my peace for years, and today is no different.”
Bianca knows the history of my relationship with Chauncey, but she can’t relate to it. Simmy is a faithful, married man. I won’t judge her; it’s my fault I married a fuckup.
I’m glad Bianca hasn’t gone through the shit I have. If she had, I’d tell her to walk away. It’s not worth it. I don’t give a fuck how much paper a nigga got. Right now, Chauncey’s money isn’t buying me any respect.
“Well, I came here to relieve you.”
It’s about time I got out of here and caught some fresh air.
“Thank you. I need to get away from this nigga fast before I make his ass flatline.”
“Rhy…”
“What? I didn’t fucking stutter.”
“I know. We need some time alone.”
“We do.”
I already feel like I’m losing myself. I haven’t stepped out of character in months. I’m not the person I was a few days ago.
“Aye, I’m finna call my husband to see if Mrs. Lynn or one of his niggas can come look after Chauncey for a few hours so we can make a few moves.”
“It’s okay if they cannot make it.”
“It’s not. Rhy, you need a break from this. When I saw you the other day, I could tell you were at peace, and a lot of healing has taken place.”
“I was.”
“The last thing I want is for Chauncey’s mess to disrupt all the work you have put in over the past year.”
“I’m glad you know. I will be fine. I promise, B, before I leave the city. We will link up and do something. I promise you, as soon as this nigga wakes up and he’s fully recovered. I’m catching a flight out of here.”
Bianca looks at me and shakes her head. I know she wants me to move back home, and even the mention of my leaving for Dallas bothers her.
“Rhy, I know you’re hurting, but fuck these bitches.”
I pause to catch my breath before I respond. It’s a lot to unpack.
Honestly, I’m over the hurt.
I really am.
I have been in therapy for the past year. I couldn’t work on myself, so I sought help. I’m moving on because I’m healing.
A part of my healing journey is learning to forgive without forgetting. I made a promise to myself that I won’t let Chauncey interfere with my happiness, no matter what. I hear Bianca, but it’s hard to say, “Fuck these bitches,” and they keep fucking with me.
Every time a bitch decides to cross that motherfucking gun line and step inside of my personal space. I’m putting my foot on her fucking neck. And I’m not taking my foot off either. I cannot turn the other cheek. Our mothers raised us not to. I’m beating some ass; I don’t give a fuck.
“Rhy, did you hear me?”
“My bad, B. It has always been ‘fuck these bitches,’ and you know that.”
“All I’m saying is don’t let these hoes fuck you out of your spot.”
Fuck this spot… Chauncey never closed the door. If a bitch wants my spot, she can fucking have it; it’s not worth keeping if a nigga can’t be faithful.
“B, it’s not about my spot. If a bitch can come between us, what do we really have? Nothing! These hoes wouldn’t think they had a chance if Chauncey didn’t keep entertaining and fucking them. It’s hard to teach an old hoe a new trick.”
I’m at a point in my life where I’m not teaching Chauncey shit. I will always let my actions speak for me.
“I hear you, Rhy.”
“I don’t think you do because you’re still advocating for this nigga.”
“All I’m saying is that Teflon Hills is big enough that you don’t have to go back to Dallas.”
“Oh, B, I know, but I love not being accessible to Chauncey. I changed my environment for myself. My life no longer revolves around him.”
I sleep well every fucking night, lying up with a real ass nigga who’s a grown-ass man.
I don’t have to worry about who my husband is cheating with, and I don’t have to worry about clocking bitches for looking at me wrong because I know they got dealings with him.
I’m over all this shit. I’m too fly for this shit.
Bianca looks at me, pleading with me not to go there, but I can’t. Rhyan Benyeir is no longer taking the high road. If Chauncey can let the streets know what he’s doing, why can’t I? I’m tired of sparing a nigga’s feelings who has never spared mine.
“I know, and I’m sorry you had to go through this on your first day back.”
“It’s cool, B…”
“It’s not.”