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“That is a statement I can stand behind.” He cleared his throat and leaned back into his chair, “What happened today?”

“I got flour bombed over a story that has zero evidence and credibility.” I crossed my hands over my chest, “You know, I wonder if he is getting flour bombed too, or if I am the only object of the public’s ire.”

“I think we both know the answer to that.” Unfortunately. He cleared his throat before continuing, “How do you feel about it?”

I paused to think deep about my next words. I’m pissed, but not at the fact that I was flour bombed. I am pissed at the situation, but most of all I am disappointed that everyone is so quick to point fingers at me- the woman.

Everyone is so quick to call me a whore and a home wrecker when I didn’t even do anything. And even if I did, why aren’t they blaming him?

“I have been picked apart by the media, and I have had insults hurled at me from across the street but I have never been flour bombed in my life.” I began, “It was humiliating, especially because it is over something I did not do.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty? There was no evidence to the claims and everyone is so quick to point fingers at me. It’s like they forget that I am a person too.

I’m not just an object for you to pour out your frustrations on.

And best believe that I have more self respect in my body than to settle for being the other woman. ”

Nathan was quiet for a long time after I had finished speaking. He had an indescribable look in his eyes; something akin to pride but not exactly there. I expected him to probe more about the situation but instead he cleared his throat and opened his book.

He flipped through the pages and finally landed one, “Tell me about your childhood. Nobody really knows a lot about young Adira or how you decided you were going to begin this.”

The truth is, nobody has ever thought to ask, so I have actually never had to respond.

“I was always into fashion growing up. My mum would say that I always liked to dress myself from a young age. Fashion was my way of expressing myself and how I was feeling. When I got to high school, it helped me fit in and be popular and unfortunately that was what was most important to me at that age.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, I was one of the only two black girls in the school and I hated standing out when I was younger, so I would try to dress like the girls and do my hair like them. It was almost like I was trying to be them. For a while, I was ashamed to be black because that was the only thing that separated me from them.”

The last part was very hard to admit. I hated thinking about my high school days. My parents actually began to worry for me. I hated it when my dad would speak Yoruba to me and I out rightly refused to learn the language which is one of my biggest regrets right now .

I would straighten my hair so that I could look like them. I spoke like them and even let them get away with a lot of racist shit that they shouldn’t have; all because I just wanted to be liked.

Nathan looked genuinely interested by the conversation, “What changed?”

“I realized after overhearing them calling me an Oreo that I would never be like them. It was hard for me at seventeen but I realized that if I couldn’t fit in, then I may as well stand out.

” I smiled softly as I remembered, “I started wearing a lot of Ankara to school; I stopped straightening my hair and would either wear braids or leave it in an afro.”

“My ‘friends’ hated my new change and gave me an ultimatum. They said it was either I stopped what I was doing or I stopped being friends with them. It was the best decision I ever made.”

“I started using my free time to learn sewing. When I got to college, I majored in fashion design and started hosting little shows for people. It all brought me to where I am now.”

“Did those friends ever try to contact you?” he asked and this time I actually chuckled.

“They did, but my friend Olivia was quick to get rid of them.”

“What would you tell young Adira right now?”

“I would tell her to get off her ass and stop being a fucking people pleaser. I would tell her that she is that bitch and she shouldn’t be ashamed of who she is.”

I saw him note something down and then he reached over and turned off the laptop. While he was doing that, I packed up my stuff and finally risked a glance at my phone that had been on silent all day .

There were numerous calls and texts from my parents and Olivia. I’m assuming they saw the video of me being flour bombed and were calling to make sure I was okay and not on the verge of committing a federal crime.

“Off camera,” Nathan spoke up, “How do you feel?”

I shrugged, “I’m okay; it’s all in a day’s work.”

“You don’t have to lie. You’re not going to hear it anywhere else. I swear it.”

“What do you want me to say Nathan?” I asked, “Do you want me to say that I’m pissed?

Yes I am. Do you want me to say that I was humiliated and embarrassed?

Yes I am. But do you know what? I expected it.

I am the other woman. I am the one ruining their life.

I am the unwanted bitch who is butting into their perfect view of happily ever after. At least, that is what the media sees.”

“They will attack me whenever and however they feel like. They don’t care that he is the one who allegedly cheated, and they don’t care that it is a bloody lie.

They just want to look for someone to blame.

And I’m that person for them. So yes, I’m pissed but I also know that I cannot say shit about it because no one will believe me.

He has to prove the rumors false and until he does that, I am the public’s punching bag.

It sucks but there’s jack shit that I can do about it. ”

He stared at me with intense eyes and for once I found myself wishing that I could read them and figure out what he is thinking. He probably thinks I’m lying to defend myself. For all I know, he probably thinks that Joseph cheated with me; he probably also thinks that I’m a home wrecking whore.

The honest truth is that at this point, I don’t even care anymore. He can think whatever he wants about me. What is one more to the millions who already hate me ?

“I don’t believe that you did it.” He said as if reading my mind, “You carry yourself like someone with standards. I would have been more surprised if I found out that it was true.”

I know I said I didn’t care, but hearing those words from him actually filled me with a sense of pride and gratitude. I will never admit it to him, but it feels good to know that someone actually believes in me and doesn’t think that I am a stinky slut.

“Thank you.” I said finally.

“If you ever need to talk about it, let me know. I know a thing or two about being hated by the media.”

“Careful,” I teased, “or I’ll think you actually enjoy my presence.”

This time, he actually smiled. Not a sarcastic smile or a rude smile, and not a half grin or a little quirk of the lips. It was a full smile, albeit there was no teeth showing, but it was a stark difference to the scowl that was always on his face.

“I would hate for you to think I actually liked you.” He said as he packed up his things, “Have a good night Adira.”

I couldn’t stop my own smile as I responded, “You too.”