4. Four - Ahmad
Four - Ahmad
I t’s been two months and I still couldn’t get MiMi off my damn mind.
The way she swooped in and bussed it down of a brotha, then bounced, still had me in a total mind fuck.
I’ve tried getting my mind off of her, but nothing worked.
Not diving deep into another woman, and damn sure not beating my dick to the images of her too many times to count.
“My Pakistani Black man! What it do my brotha?!”
My colleague and close friend, Daran interrupted my thoughts, and I couldn’t even keep the laugh down. Most of my friends would never let it go that I was half Pakistani and half Black. When I shared my ethnicity with anyone, they just stared at me.
At this point, I really tell people just to throw them a monkey wrench.
I didn’t even know my damn dad, who apparently was from Pakistan and was in D.C.
on a student visa, attending George Washington University School of Law.
His visa ended once he graduated and he returned to his country, promising my mom that he would return for us.
He never did.
Growing up, people were always curious about my natural, deep bronzed skin tone, and matching eyes. So, I found myself explaining a lot about the half of me I didn’t know, nor identified with.
Quite frankly, the constant reminder burned. I was angry that a man could get a woman pregnant, put her up in a fancy apartment, leave, then never return. That man really left my mom with a one-year-old and a lease that she couldn’t afford to renew. So, we ended up in the hood, trying to survive.
I knew it was a running joke with Daran, but times like this, when my mind was already a jumbled mess, just the mention of that side of me caused me to get lost in angry thoughts.
Daran snapped his fingers in front of my face, “You good, my man? You zoned out. Late night passing out free dick?”
He continued to joke, not even noticing my mood change. I was thankful for it though, that was a mental road I did not need to travel.
Ever since I told him about what went down at the W, he stayed saying some slick shit.
“Yo, Daran, you better get outta here with that, man. I pulled a double last night. So, I’m tired,” I told him. “What do you want?”
“Nothing… had a break, and wanted to come holla at you. Any luck finding ole girl?”
After cracking jokes for far too long after I told him what happened, he had convinced me to try and look MiMi up on social media. That was a dumb ass move. There were so many MiMi’s out there in the world, hundreds in D.C. alone… and none of them were her.
“Nah, man. It’s a lost cause. I’ve given up.”
“I’m holding out hope, because the way you be in this office staring out into space, I need ole girl to show up and save ya ass.”
“Get the fuck out of my office, yo!”
I was over his ass. I needed to get back to work.
Daran chuckled and threw up the peace sign as he walked out of my office.
Fucking idiot!