Solitude Part Four

We only managed to have brief conversations for about five to ten minutes for the next few weeks. He always had to go somewhere, do something, meet his boys. Not that I was sitting by the phone. I remained active in DC, putting my PR skills to good use with the NAACP and working with the youth through Junior Achievement. I cranked out bi-monthly newsletters at work, planned small-scale internal events and worked with other charitable organizations so our company could get some goodwill. Happy Hours and First Fridays invaded some of my nights, going to the movies or midnight bowling with college friends took some of the others. But I wanted my man.
Valentine’s Day was approaching and I had informed him in January that funds were tight and I couldn’t swing another flight out to Detroit especially since I was coming in March for my mother’s birthday. When I asked him in early February when he was coming out, he said he wasn’t. He had too much going on to make the trip, and he knew I was upset about it, but he wasn’t changing his plans. I’ll get over it; I’ll be alright. I hung up the phone in a huff, pissed beyond all pissivity. All the times I had rearranged my schedule to accommodate him, he refused to budge even though he had plenty notice about my inability to afford three round-trip plane tickets in a span of four months. But I let it go; went out for drinks and fun with my fellow, single college friends; never questioned how my man was spending his Valentine ’s Day. I was beginning to see something scribbled on that wall, just couldn’t make out what it was yet.



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