chapter two.
brix
[back to present time]
Tonight, I get off my shift at eight. I’m usually so drained after work that I scarf down a meal and go straight to bed.
Not today.
I need to talk to Cyn, and she’s actively avoiding my calls. I know she’s home by now, so I send her a text:
You’re not at work anymore. You can talk now, right?
I sigh heavily, sitting on the bed where I’ve slept alone since January.
Nothing reminds me how much I screwed up with Cynnamon like this empty king-sized bed.
I think about all the nights she laid here without me – nights I worked late, took on extra shifts, filled in for doctors who had to call out.
I was being Super Doctor to the community, dedicating all my time and energy to it, and not pouring into her.
Not giving her my all. Instead, I gave her what was left of me, which was hardly nothing, and she finally had enough. It was not like that in the beginning.
Years ago, before we started dating – when I had run into her that day at the park and asked her to meet me for dinner, I didn’t think she would come.
This was the same woman who didn’t call me after I paid for her dinner on a whim.
Granted, she didn’t know me. I was being my usual charismatic self.
I wanted to impress her, and she was eating alone, so I dropped a hundred on the table and gave her my number.
She didn’t call, so I knew her chances of meeting me for dinner were slim.
But when she walked into the restaurant that day with a little purse tucked under her arms, wearing that knee-length royal blue dress that hugged her curves, I knew she would be the woman I would marry.
She didn’t know it yet.
I did.
Don’t ask me how. It was just a feeling – something I had never experienced with anyone else.
All the signs pointed to Cyn as my future.
The woman who would bear my children. The woman I would build a life with.
All that and I didn’t even know her last name yet.
Whatever it was, it would eventually change to LaSalle.
And it did.
Five months later, to be exact.
I wasn’t playing games. I wanted what I wanted, and she wanted me just as much.
We married, made love every time our eyes connected, took trips, made love some more, planned fun dates, made love even more.
We were inseparable. Now, we can hardly string five words together when we see each other.
She moved out and rented an apartment down by Monticello Park, which, ironically, is the place where we got married. And I’m left in this five-bedroom home.
Alone.
My hand slides down the length of my face as I release a sharp breath. Cyn still hasn’t responded to my text, so I try to call one more time before I lie down to rest.
“What is it, Brixton?” she answers. “I’m getting ready for bed.”
I don’t even mind the attitude. I’m just glad she picked up.
“Going to bed already? It’s only nine o’clock.”
“Your point? Tomorrow is Tuesday. It’s a normal workday for me. And I know you’re going to work. It’s your whole existence. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised you aren’t there right now. Or, are you hiding in the supply room or something?”
“No. I’m home.”
She tsks. “That’s a first. So, let’s see–you wait until I move out to be home. I guess I was the problem, then, huh?”
“Hey, I didn’t call to start this up again.”
“Then why exactly are you on my line?”
“Okay, so hear me out before you say anything, okay? Can you do that?”
“I’m not making any promises,” she says.
I can imagine her arms are crossed. Forehead creased. Lips pursed.
“Cyn…”
“Just say what you gon’ say so I can go, Brix.”
Another deep sigh comes. She drives a hard bargain, but that’s to be expected. I have to remember that I’m at her mercy here. I need her, not the other way around.
I clear my throat and say, “So, I did something this year that I haven’t done in years – I took Thanksgiving week off work. My parents are flying in, and I would like for us to have dinner together–you know, as a family.”
“Okay…? What does that have to do with me?”
“Family includes you, Cyn.”
The line is eerily quiet before I hear an outburst of laughter. I mean, she’s straight belly laughing, too. She’s probably laughing so hard, she has tears in her eyes.
“You—you think—” She can hardly talk for laughing. “Brix, have you been exposed to them anesthesia fumes or something?”
“Cyn–”
“Because I know you done sniffed something if you think I’m stepping either one of these size eights into your house.”
Frustrated by her lack of concern, I sigh and ask, “Can you see past your disdain for me for five minutes and hear me out?”
“Um, that would be a heck no. Bye, Brix.”
“Cyn, come on. I need this.”
“Why?”
I don’t want to tell her, but I fear that if I don’t offer her some kind of explanation, she won’t consider my request.
I respond, “My parents—they, uh—”
“Spit it out, Brix.”
“They don’t know we’re not together anymore.”
“Wait–what? You didn’t tell them?”
“No.”
“Really, Brix. So, you’ve been lying to them all this time?”
“I haven’t been lying—just not telling the truth.”
“What the—? Why wouldn’t you tell them?”
“I didn’t want them to see me as a failure. I don’t fail at anything.”
“But you did. You failed. They should know we’re not together anymore. This is crazy.”
“Look, I’ll tell them at the end of the year, after the holidays, but for right now, I don’t want to ruin their time here.
I want everything to be perfect, so could you please—just this one time—do this favor for me?
I hate to sound like I’m begging, but I am.
And I’m desperate. I wouldn’t reach out to you like this if I wasn’t. ”
A deep sigh comes through the line, along with something she grumbled that I couldn’t quite make out. “And what exactly are you asking me to do, Brix?”
“Well, they’re flying in the day before Thanksgiving and flying out that Sunday. I need you to stay with me for that time and act as if we’re still together.”
“Nope. No, sir. Not going to happen.”
“Cyn, it’s less than a week.”
“I cannot pretend I’m in love with you in front of them and front like everything is okay between us when it’s not. No. No way.”
I put the phone on speaker, set it on the nightstand, and place a hand over my heart.
Hearing her say that so bluntly damaged me.
She’s not in love with me anymore. Those words actually broke a bone.
That’s how painful it is to hear. I know we don’t have the best relationship, and I know it’s my fault, but I didn’t think it was on this level.
That she had no feelings for me whatsoever, especially considering how good we used to be.
We were everything.
Inseparable.
Now, we’re distant. It’s like she never loved me at all. Like she doesn’t recall ever being happy with me.
“I have to go,” she says.
“It’s just a favor, Cyn,” I say downcast because the magnitude of her words still has me rattled.
I cannot pretend I’m in love with you.
Still, I press on past the hurt and try to convince her to do this for me.
My parents think highly of me. I grew up to be the perfect son with the perfect grades, the perfect job, the perfect home, the perfect wife, and the perfect life.
What will they think of me when they find out I no longer have what made my life so perfect?
Her.
“It’s an absurd favor. I cannot believe you’re even asking me this? What part about me moving out did you think I ever wanted to move back in?”
“It would literally be for what? Four days? You can’t handle being in my presence for four days, Cynnamon?”
Another sigh slices through the line. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why are you talking to me like we’re still cordial? Before you texted me today, I hadn’t heard from you in months. And now, you’re asking me to move in with you?”
“For only four days.”
“I don’t care how many days! You’re still asking me to move in, which is insane. See, this is what I be talking about. Everything, and I mean e-ve-ry-thing is always about you–about what Brixton wants. Do you even consider other people’s feelings when you make decisions?”
“Of course I–”
“Obviously you don’t if you’re asking me to do something so unbelievably stupid. Just tell your parents you screwed up and take the ‘L’. Bye.”
She hangs up, ending the call and my hopes of keeping this separation a secret from my parents.
I fall back on the bed, covering my face with my hands.
How did I end up here? I’m great at everything else – at intense surgeries, complex decisions, diagnosing patients, and recommending treatments.
I’m not good at knowing how to make a woman happy – one who I’m still very much in love with.