The Ex Chronicles

by Penelope Christian

  “When I told you I was at the gym working out.”

  “O-o-ohhhh,” he chortled. “You like being sneaky.”

  “No. Just clever.”

  He held the vase in one hand and hugged me with the other. His lips kissed their way from my forehead to my mouth. I relished the taste of his tongue. We paused for air.

  “Thank you. I love it.”

  “Really? You do?”

  He nodded sincerely. “This is the first time I’ve ever been given flowers.”

  “Did I get it right?”

  “You did.”

  “Good, ‘cause it was a first for me, too.”

  “Giving flowers?”

  “I gave you a shoe.”

  “Do I get anything else?” The longing in his voice was quietly insistent.

  “Yes, you certainly do.”

  Randolph stayed late that night. His lovemaking nourished my soul and afterwards he held me like it was his last act on earth. I had somehow won the super bowl championship of love, and had achieved more than a winning touchdown. I had brought home the good man trophy.

  And all it took was some flowers, and a shoe.

  I finally felt comfortable in my position with him and rested peacefully in his arms with that knowledge…

  It was nearly six a.m. when I awoke to sounds of Channel 6ABC Action News playing from the living room. Randolph had left hours ago, taking his gift with him, and had lovingly wrapped me in a blanket. I climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make coffee in the Keurig.

  A handwritten note lay on the dining room table. I recognized Randolph’s chicken scratch and smirked, but didn’t walk over to read it until my coffee started brewing.

  You were right about the baby.

  I’m sorry.

  My legs buckled as the noise level of the television increased. It was a commercial advertising birth control. I made it to the living room, grabbed the TV remote to turn it off, then abruptly stopped.

  Randolph’s picture was stretched across the fifty-inch screen. The caption beneath it read Lover’s Quarrel Turned Homicide. I stared blankly at the screen.

  “In what is being called a couple’s dispute with a bizarre twist, police storm a West Philadelphia home at three a.m., responding to calls from area residents of a domestic altercation. Randolph Williams, age 43, was taken into custody for beating his 36-year-old pregnant girlfriend to death with what police describe as a ceramic vase in the shape of a sneaker. According to neighbors, the pregnant victim was seven months along with her first child, and Williams was identified as her disgruntled ex.”

  The picture cut from the field reporter on location to a uniformed policeman being interviewed. “The suspect made a full confession before his arrest, stating he learned today he was not the expectant father from DNA test analysis done by himself and the deceased. These test results were retrieved near the victim’s body.”

  The picture cut back to the field reporter. “Randolph Williams is currently being held without bail and faces a series of charges. An investigation is underway, and no additional news is available on the welfare of the child. Authorities are not releasing the woman’s identity until the family has been notified. This is Kim Collins, Channel 6 Action News. We will bring you more details on this story as it develops.”

  Yvette Danielle is a New England native, originally from Springfield, Massachusetts. A singer, thespian, playwright and poet/spoken word artist, she now resides in the Greater Philadelphia area. She is currently completing her debut teen novel, A Piece of My Love. To stay in contact with Yvette Danielle on Social Media, check out her Facebook Author Page (Yvette Danielle), or follow her on Twitter (@ydanielle) and Instagram (@yvettedanl).

  The Ex I Never Had

  By Christina Grant

  1995 – Love At First Sight

  Getting ready for another fun night! I was so excited to be living on campus and finally making friends.

  “I had this bad chick uptown, she was whoa….” Black Rob blared through the hallways of my dorm, and as the RA, I felt all powerful playing that. Who was going to call campus security on the RA?

  But tonight, I wasn’t an RA; I was going to a Hip Hop version of Hamlet at the Student Theatre. Sounded corny, but all the fraternities and sororities came together for this event and in my never-ending dream of being a Delta, I had to be in the house. What was amazing was that a member of Delta invited me.

  I met Erica during my freshman year. She was smart, beautiful, and although she came from money, she was super down to earth.

  At first, I thought it was weird that she would invite me; I was her RA, but we only saw each other at dorm meetings. I had to quiet the voice in my head that told me to question the invitation.

  I guess I questioned it because I’d always struggled with making female friends. I was what others called pretty (key word others): light skinned, with long flowing hair (that only a few knew was a weave) and a killer body. This caused me to make more enemies than friends because most girls wanted nothing to do with me and over time, that became just fine. I hung with the guys who were more welcoming to a pretty girl with a brain.

  But now that I was entering my junior year, I was ready to embrace all of me – beauty, body, and brains. I saw the women of DST mastering their complete selves with ease and confidence, and I hoped one day to be welcomed into their sisterhood.

  Walking across campus was always a scene. You had to look cute whether the sun was shining or it was freezing cold. I had a little extra strut as I walked today, full of confidence.

  A couple of minutes later, I heard, “Stacy, slow down!”

  I turned and saw Erica running and waving. As she got closer, her smile told me that she was glad I came out. She looked amazing in her treasured DST line jacket, black leggings, and stiletto boots.

  She caught on to my nerves. “Look, after tonight everyone’s gonna peg you as one of us, but you look amazing, so let’s have fun and worry about Greek life tomorrow.”

  We walked and talked about everything and nothing. Erica was excited to be graduating in May and eager to head straight to Harvard Business School. (Third generation!) “Brains matter over looks every day!” she told me.

  When we got to the event, I watched Erica in awe. Everyone knew her and it took over fifteen minutes for us to get to our seats. We were in the third row…and I was happy to finally be sitting down. These Louboutins were nice, but they hurt like hell.

  Just as an announcement was made that the show would be slightly delayed, a male voice asked me to move one seat down.

  “I want to sit next to her,” he said, pointing to Erica.

  I gathered my stuff, looked up, and saw a man who was just my kind of fine. He was short and stocky and handsome. I thought to myself, Who is he and why hadn’t I met him yet?

  I had been off the dating scene. College had proven to be a tough place for me on the relationship side and I decided to make my parents happy by getting my B.A. even if my heart desired my MRS.

  Erica interrupted my thoughts to introduce me to her boyfriend, Michael. I felt the air slip out the room as she said the words ‘booooooy frieeeend’.

  My outside actions didn’t betray my inside thoughts…super quickly I said, “Hey, nice to meet you,” and then, I averted my attention away from Michael. My insides were on fire, but on the outside, I was cool as a glacier.

  As Michael sat down, he said, “Aren’t you like an RA or something…I feel like one night you kicked me out last semester.”

  I responded, “Well if it was past curfew, then you had to leave.” I hoped that would end the conversation.

  “Yeah, that was you,” he continued. “You had on this green face mask and like a muumuu, but it was after nine and you were kicking fellas out left and right. We were giving you shit and all the fellas couldn’t stop talking about the crazy RA in Wharton Hall.”

  We laughed and in that quick exchange, I felt like I’d known Michael for years. He seemed excited
to meet the face behind the mask. Michael kept talking, asking all kinds of questions: What’s your major? Are you from New York? Who’s your favorite rapper?

  I kept up with the pace trying to be polite, though I felt a bit uncomfortable. This was Erica’s man, and I didn’t want her to think I was trying anything. But she was in the aisle, talking to friends, and aside from introducing me to Michael, she hadn’t said anything else to him.

  Watching her, I kept answering him. And after a few more questions, I asked, “How long have you and Erica been dating?” I figured bringing it back to Erica would stop the conversation. But the way he answered, Michael missed the memo totally!

  “Erica and I went to high school together. She’s amazing, and such a people person.” His eyes stayed on me. “Most people don’t believe that high school sweethearts can make it, but four years later, we’re still together.”

  I heard his words, but he didn’t sound convincing. It was his body language mostly – he didn’t even glance her way.

  Then, he asked, “Are you single?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Because without your green mask, you’re stunning.”

  “Thanks,” I said, appreciating the joke and the compliment. “I’m single.”

  “Really?” he asked as if he were shocked. “Well, some guy is gonna be very happy one day.”

  That made me blush and wish the darn play would begin. Or that Erica would sit down and talk to her man so that I wouldn’t.

  Then he surprised me with, “It’s good to meet the girl that Erica has been talking about.”

  “She’s been talking about me?”

  “Yeah, I know you sing in the choir, have straight A’s, apparently you’re a mini Erica in the making. I’m pretty sure she’s considering sponsoring you for initiation.”

  That made me smile.

  “That’s a huge deal,” he said. “But I hope you’re ready for the mess.”

  Now, I frowned.

  He said, “The real question is, why do you want to be a part of all this?” There was a sadness in the way he said ‘all this’ and for a second, I thought maybe Michael didn’t want to be here.

  Even though I needed to stop talking to him, I didn’t want him to stop talking to me. It had been super hard for me to have a conversation with any guy on campus, and besides my concerns about Erica and Delta, my spirit was at ease with Michael.

  This was all super-wrong, but just as I was settled in for more questions, the lights dimmed and the stage curtains opened.

  Show time.

  Thank goodness.

  2000 – Unexpected Pairings

  While I sat in hospice care with my father, I spent most of my time talking to Michael via text. As with so many times in our lives since we’d met five years ago, Michael was there for me. Not physically, since he was sitting in a different hospital, here in the city watching the life leave his beloved mother. But he was here for me in every other way. We were going through the same thing, so he understood my pain. We were being forced to become adults long before we were ready.

  We didn’t get to see each other often, but we texted every day, the way we were texting now.

  Michael: Hey, how’s your visit?

  Me: Today, he knew I was here. I had about five good minutes of him being fully present. He told me to go home, but he enjoyed me being here. I’m tired, but there’s no place I’d rather be. You?

  Michael: We are living the same life! I’m with mom and she’s bossing me around. She’s in great spirits and she’s eating. As usual, she wants to know why I haven’t married Erica? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t care about Erica, she just wants grandchildren.

  Me: You guys are the poster board for black love, so get crackin! Glad she’s in good spirits and harassing you! Thanks for always checking on me…it means a lot.

  Michael: OMG not you, too! You know darn well Erica and I aren’t ready. She doesn’t even take time to come sit here with me. I’m not sure I can get past it.

  There was a pause, but before I could text anything, another came in from him.

  Michael: And you know Heather is being a beast, right…she’s here as much as I am and I’m glad for the support.

  This time, I was the one who paused. Heather was at the hospital with Michael? I didn’t know why I was surprised. Heather and Michael met while he was volunteering at a school near campus. She was a teacher with a big heart and a lot of time to devote to Michael, though I never questioned their friendship because Michael and I were purely platonic. So, I figured he was faithful to Erica and he and Heather were just friends.

  Finally, I texted back:

  Me: You know I don’t want to hear nothing about another woman. So we can stop texting now. LOL!

  Michael: Fine, then you marry me!

  Me: And with that, I’ll leave you to have a good day! Give your mom a hug.

  Michael: Fine, deflect…talk to you tomorrow and call me if you need anything.

  I laughed; that was my once-a-year proposal from Michael. The joke was that I’d never touched Michael, kissed Michael, even gave a hint that I was interested in more than a friendship. But these last five years helped me to believe that men and women could have great friendships. And his friendship was important because I needed him by my side as I faced this life challenge.

  It was funny that I was so close to him since he was still with Erica. For a while, Erica and I had actually become besties after I was initiated into Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. We were inseparable as we both focused on our academics, excellence, and ruling the world.

  Then, during the Fall of my senior year, Erica invited me to Cambridge to visit Harvard. Now, I have to say I never thought I’d consider attending an Ivy League university, but Erica convinced me that between my grades, community service, and LSAT scores, I would get in. But then, my first night in Cambridge marked the beginning of the end of our best friend status.

  I found my way to the campus and Erica’s dorm and was blown away by her luxurious lifestyle. She’d traded her Honda Civic for a black BMW and everything from her hair to her shoes had been upgraded. Looking at Erica and other students on campus, I realized quickly that I was out of my (Ivy) league.

  And if I had any doubts about my thoughts, Erica made me sure that I knew I would never fit in at a place like Harvard. After she gave me a quick hug, she snarled, “What the hell do you have on?” She frowned at my sweats. “You’re at Harvard, for God sakes!”

  I couldn’t remember another time when she cared about my clothes, but I stammered to explain that I just wanted to be comfortable on my ride up.

  “This isn’t undergrad,” she snapped. “If you want to be taken seriously, you need to look the part.”

  She went to her closet and threw a couple of outfits at me. “Change!” she demanded. “Because I can’t be seen with you like that. Ugh! You can’t be my pet project for the rest of your life!”

  Her words stung and hurt to my core, but I’d never been one to cause drama, so I changed into something that she felt was appropriate. We went through the rest of the weekend without another dispute – at least not an outward one.

  But I began to see Erica with new eyes. As we engaged with her friends, she made a point of saying some pretty petty things.

  “Stacy and I went to school together, but she attended on a scholarship.”

  “Oh, yes, Stacy is very smart. She’s the first one to attend college in her family.”

  “Can you believe this is the very first time that Stacy has stepped foot on the campus of an Ivy League school?”

  I wanted to say, ‘Who cares?’ to every one of her statements. Yes, what she said was true, but her tone reminded me of her earlier words – pet project.

  Erica didn’t see or hear from me much after that, not that she seemed to notice. But what was interesting was that as Erica and I grew apart, Michael and I became closer, especially since Michael remained in New York while Erica was in Massachusetts.

  Michae
l stayed local for business school, even though he and Erica got to see each other often since she had the money to travel back and forth. But, I didn’t care about what was going on between the two of them. I was just happy to have Michael around as I navigated through the stress of law school.

  I glanced down at my phone and thought about sending Michael another text, but then, decided I’d reach out later.

  Putting down my phone, I turned my attention to my dad. He was resting and when his eyes were closed like that, it didn’t even look like he was a man whose days were numbered.

  Tears came to my eyes as they always did when I had that thought and I brushed them away. I took a deep breath; I wouldn’t be the same when my dad passed, but I would make it. I could make it through anything as long as Michael was by my side.

  2005 – Can We Try?

  “Stacy, are you able to watch Samantha tonight? Heather and I need to talk and I really don’t want Samantha listening to us argue.”

  This had become my new normal. Shortly after Michael’s mom passed, he had a break-from-Erica baby with Heather and life as we all knew it changed.

  He wasn’t certain Heather was ‘the one’, but even after a decade with Erica, he wasn’t sure about her, either.

  And then, there was me. Michael was sure about me. I was the babysitter. The negotiator. The holder of secrets. And the best friend.

  When I hung up from Michael, I went into the room where I had a toddler bed for times such as these. As I prepared for Samantha, I thought how much had changed in the ten years that I’d known Michael. While he was torn between two women, I was deeply in love and planning my wedding. I had met an amazing man, William, in law school and the best thing about him was that he thought my sweats were just fine.

  Seriously, William was everything a woman could dream of: a deeply-devoted-to-God attorney who was so in love with me. He knew me in the most intimate of ways – he’d seen me without my weave for god’s sake!

  But Michael was still my best friend, so when he dropped Samantha off, I didn’t tell him what I always did – that I didn’t think he was over his mother’s death and it was making it hard to see what was so clear – that he was with Erica because that’s who everyone expected him to marry, and that he loved Heather because of who she was and all the support she’d given him when his mother was dying.