Certified to Handle You 3

6. Renza Mensah #3

I looked down at myself and shook my head ‘cause I ain’t know how many more times I could do this shit before I got tired of my own hand.

Beatin’ my dick wasn’t enough, and that was what had me ready to put my fist through somethin’.

It gave me relief, but it ain’t give me her.

It ain’t put her in my bed. It ain’t make her mine.

It ain’t erase the fact that I was in the shower tryna wash off a woman I couldn’t stop wantin’.

I stood here a minute longer, lettin’ the water hit my face while I got myself together.

Then I grabbed the washcloth again and finished washin’ my body, slow and quiet before rinsin’ the soap off.

The steam had the mirror fogged up, and the bathroom felt too hot, but I stayed under the water until my skin got used to it.

After I rinsed, I cut the shower off and stepped out.

Steam rolled out with me, stickin’ to my skin while I reached for one of the towels I had grabbed and dragged it over my face first. I wiped the water out my beard, then rubbed it over my chest and arms before wrappin’ it low around my waist. My body felt calmer, but my head didn’t.

I walked out the bathroom and in my room with the towel hangin’ off my hips, the floor cool under my feet and everything quiet around me.

For a second, I just stood here lookin’ around like I was tryna remember what I was supposed to do next.

My bed was still messy from how I had woke up.

The sheets was twisted, one pillow halfway off the mattress, and the sunlight comin’ through the curtains made everything look too normal for what was goin’ on inside me.

I went to the dresser, grabbed my weed, and sat on the edge of the bed with it. I broke it down, put it in the paper, and rolled it tight enough to smoke right. Soon as I sparked it, I pulled in a long hit and let the smoke sit in my chest for a second before I blew it out toward the ceilin’.

I leaned back against the headboard with the towel still around me and the blunt between my fingers.

I took another pull that was slower this time, and tried to let the weed push some of that weight off me. It helped for about three seconds before my eyes landed on my phone on.

I ain’t wanna touch it…

I looked at the phone for a minute, then reached for it anyway.

I saw I had missed calls from numbers I ain’t recognize, and texts sittin’ under ‘em.

I stared at the screen with the blunt between my fingers, already knowin’ who it was before I opened anything.

Sha’Nelle ain’t called in a minute, so seein’ them new numbers pop up had me sittin’ here for a second like, damn… especially after I just beat my damn dick while thinkin’ about her.

I ran my hand down my face, and opened the messages.

Unknown number: I miss you.

Unknown number: Please call me.

Unknown number: I love you.

I sat here readin’ them words with smoke burnin’ between my fingers and my towel still low on my waist.

“Yo,” I mumbled.

That was all I had, ’cause what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?

It had been weeks of not hearin’ from her, weeks of tryna get my mind to stop reachin’ where my hands couldn’t and now here she was, hittin’ my phone like she ain’t know exactly what them words would do to me.

I read ‘em again, then locked the phone before I got stupid.

A few seconds passed, and I unlocked it right back like that made any kind of sense. My thumb went to the call button, and I sat here lookin’ at it with my blunt halfway to my mouth.

One touch and I could hear her voice. One touch and all that quiet I had been usin’ to hold myself together would be gone. I ain’t press it.

I took a pull from the blunt instead and let the smoke burn my throat.

My thumb stayed close to that button, but I kept tellin’ myself not to move.

It wasn’t ’cause I ain’t miss her. I missed her bad enough to wake up hard from dreams and get in the shower mad at my own body.

I missed her bad enough to sit in my room holdin’ a phone like a nigga ain’t never had control before.

But missin’ Sha’Nelle ain’t mean I needed to hand her the same spot in my chest she had already hurt. That was the part I couldn’t play with.

Sha’Nelle could get under my skin without even bein’ in the room.

She could send three little texts from a number I ain’t know and have my whole mornin’ movin’ different.

That was too much power for one woman to have over me, especially when I was the one left tryna figure out how to sleep normal, wake up normal and touch myself without my mind runnin’ straight back to her.

I looked at the messages one more time.

Unknown number: Please call me.

My hand stayed over the screen, and for a second, I really almost did it.

I almost called just to hear how she sounded.

I almost let myself forget how bad that shit had felt a few weeks ago when everything came down on me at the same time.

Then I thought about what would happen if she cried in my ear.

I thought about how quick my anger could turn into me wantin’ to fix us.

I set the phone down next to me and kept my hand on top of it like I had to keep that muthafucka from callin’ her on its own.

“Nah,” I said under my breath.

I leaned my head back against the headboard and smoked until the room got hazy around me.

I finished my blunt with the towel still around my waist, my beard damp and my hand nowhere near that call button.

I never called her back.