6. Realizations
Realizations
Angie
It had been two weeks since we got back from our trip to Redwood.
Two weeks since the realization hit me.
I was in love with Karma.
Not lust, not like, not even simple infatuation. Straight up, undeniable love.
Every cell in my body wanted to wake up to her brown-sugared kisses, wanted to indulge every interest and whim she had, and most importantly, wanted to be hers. Fully, without hesitation or restriction.
The unfortunate part of that was, we were blood relatives. They say that you get your partnership preferences from the women in your life, but this was a toe too much even for that theory.
Sure, it had been done before, and technically cousin marriages had only recently stopped. However, it was still mostly frowned upon. Especially among Black people.
Niggas were judgmental, and our family had slick ass mouths.
I could never put that type of pressure on Karma.
The scrutiny she could face would be exponentially worse than anything I’d ever have to deal with.
Muhfuckas couldn’t beat my ass so they wouldn’t have a choice but to watch that shit.
Karma, though? She didn’t do conflict. She would probably just eat it.
So that left me with two choices.
Continue loving her in secret and try to hold onto her for as long as I could. Or be a selfish asshole who dug up dirt and bulldozed everything to get what I wanted.
Unfortunately for my sad, in love ass, option two was never really viable. Seeing Karma in any kind of emotional discomfort would unravel me, and I was barely hanging on as it was.
“How do I look?” she asked as she smoothed the dress over her hips.
“You know damn well you always look good,” I smiled as I fluffed up the curls on her crown.
Karma dressed in full color during spring and summer. Although her winter pallet was a bit more muted, she still looked delectable in her burnt oranges and rich burgundies. Today's number was a huggy sweater dress offering an amazing view. The way her titties were sitting in that deep v…
“Ok, but is this a good first date outfit?” she asked, snapping me from my thoughts.
Regrettably.
She looked so damn good that I was starting to hate that nigga. He ain't even do nothing besides have good taste in women. Could I get him fired for this?
“Ang, you’re quiet and it’s scaring me.”
“You look good, Karma. Although I wish you would've waited to get your nails filled like I asked. Because then they wouldn't be catching on your dress.”
“Ugh, Angie. Don't start. I wanted them to look good for that comedy show.”
“Five days wait wouldn't have killed you.”
“You don't know that. What if I would've broke a nail, got an infection, and died?”
“Karma, I- take your hard-headed butt on somewhere.”
“Fine,” she pouted. “But can I have a hug for good luck first?”
I immediately pulled her into my arms. This must've been what the straight men considered simping, but I guess them miserable ass red pill bitches never had a pretty woman pressed up against them.
She was so warm and soft, cradling every ounce of my hard muscles.
You damn fucking right I'd do anything she'd ask me in this moment.
“I guess I should get going,” she sighed after a while.
“Don't worry, it's gonna be good. I'll stay up so you can come back and tell me all about it. Ok?”
“Ok,” she whimpered. “See you soon, Ang.”
“See you soon, pretty girl.”
***
“Damn, all these niggas ugly den a muhfucka.”
I was going on my second hour of Karma-less hell.
Originally I tried to treat it like an opportunity to get a bed warmer of my own.
Someone to make the potential sting of losing her burn just a little bit less.
However, twenty minutes into the search I discovered that the options were sparse, and frankly irritating.
Too talkative, too dumb, too dry. It was never enough and it was all my fault.
Because I had already found everything I wanted. I just wasn't supposed to have her.
Knowing that, I gave up my search. I had too much dignity left to settle.
At least not tonight.
Instead I’d binge reality TV and eat something bad for me since Karma wasn't here to monitor me.
A real wild night for an eligible bachelor such as myself.
Her key turned in the front door an hour later and my eyes immediately flew open. I had no memory of falling asleep, and yet my focus on Karma was hazy, veiled in drowsiness. Even still, I could see the disappointment etched into her usually soft features.
“What's wrong?” I asked. “It ain't go too well?”
“No,” she sighed as she sat besides me. “It went fine.”
“Oh good. Are you going to see him again?”
“Probably not,” she pouted.
The remainder of my questions about her date died in the sliver of immodest space left between us once Karma straddled my lap. Blood rushed south like migrating butterflies, providing a sturdy perch for her to rest her weary ass.
“Karma, what's happening?” I gulped, attempting to swallow the thick knot in my throat.
The very primal, sex-starved part of my brain was telling me not to fuck up a good thing by asking questions, but the lovernigga in me was concerned. Was something actually wrong? Was she anxious? Hurt?
“Karma,” I whined again. “Please, ta-”
Her lips parted to shut me up with a kiss. The only problem was it wasn't a soft little peck like I was used to. It was passionate, assertive, sure.
Too sure.
“Angelo, I want you.”
“Karma, I promised,” I gasped. “You’re finally back home and I don't want to complicate things.”
“Things are already complicated, Angie,” she sighed, voice laced with irritation. “You pay all my bills, kiss all my ouchies, and keep all my secrets. I can't duplicate this kind of connection with someone else, and I really don't want to either.”
Her panties came off at the end of her explanation, and I was left to look down the barrel of a dripping wet gun. This would surely end any sense of normalcy we managed to drum up over the last few months.
Yet I knew she wasn't wrong. Our lives were intertwined well past the point of complicated.
Still I had one question,
“Karma, are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”