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Her turn to look perplexed.
“That's right, but I spared you the details because I didn't want to hurt you any more than he already had. And it was a comment he made; he didn't touch me, obviously, as he still has the use of both of his hands. I'm used to brushing off assholes at the diner all the time, so it was no big deal.” The words are cotton in my mouth as I choke out the half-truths; because the thought of what he propositioned still makes my skin crawl.
“He said you might say that,” she challenges, crossing her arms.
I feel like all the breath has been knocked from my chest from the sucker punch her words just delivered.
“I don't have time for this. But know this, I don't want him here anymore. I'm serious. It's him or me. I love you Kam…I do. But I'm done with his shit!” I throw out as I shoulder past her, not bothering to stick around to see her wounded expression. Grabbing my bag and my cardigan, I storm to the door.
As I pass by I notice the cause for all this is awake and has the nerve to wink at me, so I make sure to give his bed a kick as I walk by, which only causes him to laugh because it hurts my foot way more than the bed. Not the smartest move for someone wearing Toms.
I can still hear his laugh as I slam the door shut behind me. The way the old door rattles in the frame is a perfect match for the way my anger is rattling around inside me. And beneath all that aggression, there is some hurt buried. But, I don't have time to Dr. Phil what just went down because I'm going to miss my final. Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush down and begin my seven block walk to campus. After walking a couple blocks, I decide to splurge on a cab.
Once seated in the back, I allow myself a moment catch my breath and ease the burn in my lungs. The glass feels smooth against my forehead, the last half hour playing back in my mind on the drive as I watch the world pass by in a blur.
Tears threaten to fall, pricking the corners of my eyes when I wrestle with how to handle the situation with Kami. I blink them away and pull myself together just as the campus comes into view. I pay the driver and climb out, prepared to turn this day around. My mind is a jumbled mess of worry and stress.
As I make my way to the building that houses the College of Business, my anger is dissolved by the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach. Each step brings me closer to everything I've worked for. The parties I missed, the meals I skipped, the sleep I gave up, the shitty jobs I worked, and more importantly, the relationships I never forged. All for the one thing. Security. The room where I will take one of my last finals. The four walls that play a crucial part in deciding if I will graduate, the booklet of paper that determines if an MBA is in my future. I've got this. Because failure is not an option.
Checking my phone, I see that taking the cab has put me almost back on schedule, so I tempt fate by rushing to the coffee cart nearest my class to grab myself a nice strong dark roast to give me the edge I need to tackle this marketing final. Because let's face it, coffee saves lives, and today more so than usual, I could use a little help. I slide into my seat, coffee in hand, just as the bell rings. Reaching into my bag for a pencil, I quickly realize in my haste, I've left my laptop at home. My external hard drive is here but no laptop. Looks like it's going to take more than a cup of Cafe Verona to save me. I silence my phone and drop it back in my bag. Here goes nothing.
