Page 11 of Bern and Isley (D-Ville Projects #5)

Isley

I was loading the dishwasher when Marshall told me he’d seen Bern at the basketball court.

I’d never known him to even play pickup ball.

He worked out at the gym faithfully. But in the year we’d been dating, not once had he mentioned playing ball with the boys.

Especially not in my hood. So when he mentioned Bern, I had an inkling the conversation would be far from pleasant.

“That nigga really act like he got a problem with me, Isley.” Marshall crossed his arms and peered at me. “He was muggin’ me as soon as I stepped on the court. I knew then what kind of timing he was on. Then the muhfucka kept going out of his way to foul hard and shit.”

I turned my back to him, rolling my eyes as I put the dish in the cabinet. The shit was either all in his head or he was being soft. If it was that deep, he should’ve fouled back was what I wanted to say. But I just continued to listen intently.

“I started to swing on that nigga.”

I turned around as I dried the last dish to face Marshall.

He was still sitting in the same spot as he had during dinner.

He sat and watched me clean afterward. He glowered at me like I was the one who fouled his ass.

I knew he wanted to get a rise out of me by the way his eyes dared me to defend Bern. I didn’t fall for it though.

“Well, I’m glad things didn’t get that far,” I finally said to fill the awkward silence.

It was a great decision on Marshall’s behalf to not start shit he couldn’t finish.

Not only was Bern capable of handling his own.

Every nigga around there would’ve had his back.

Those weren’t the kind of problems Marshall wanted.

I didn’t even want to think about how they would have hemmed him up had he chosen violence.

“That’s why I hate niggas who’ve served time. They think they’re so tough. He was probably getting his ass whooped everyday behind bars.”

I didn’t reply. I refused to give him the reaction he was looking for. I placed the remaining dishes in the cabinets on the shelves where they belonged then wiped the counters and table.

“I’m just saying the nigga acts like he wants me to put some lead in his ass,” Marshall spat.

My heart nearly stopped. The blood in my veins boiled. “Is that some kind of threat, Marshall?”

“It’s not a threat, just an observation.” He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I’m just saying the nigga is too comfortable disrespecting me.”

“Are we still talking about basketball or something else?”

“You know damn well I’m not just talking about basketball. The nigga was disrespectful the first day I met him.”

“In his defense, he only reacted that way because you were being aggressive toward me.”

“You stay defending that nigga. And you wonder why I’m suspicious of what y’all got going on.”

Not again. I was tired of the same conversation. Every other day, he was inferring or outright accusing me. The shit was getting old.

“If you don’t trust me, we don’t need to be together. Because I’m not giving up my friendship with Bern because you’re insecure about his place in my life.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t ride for me as hard as you ride for the nigga you claim you ain’t fucking.”

“What are you even talking about?” I folded my arms as I waited on a response.

Marshall didn’t even make eye contact with me.

“Alright, I’m done with this. I’d rather be single than keep arguing every other day.

” I damn near stomped toward the console where my car keys were.

I grabbed them then snatched the door open.

“Fuck you, Isley. You just wanted an excuse to be with that nigga anyway. You a trifling bitch. Broke ass hoe.”

With my hand still on the handle, I stopped in my tracks.

It was the first time he’d gone as low as to call me out of my name.

I turned around to get one last look at him.

A scowl was scribbled across his face. The face I once thought was handsome now appeared ugly.

The jealousy and hatefulness in his spirit had evaporated every bit of attractiveness I once felt for him.

I turned around and walked out of his house for the last time. I slammed the door as hard as I could.

I peeled out of his driveway so fast I nearly hit a neighboring mailbox across the street.

I was so angry that my hands trembled. Why did I continue to hold on to that relationship when the disrespect increased?

Why did I allow myself to be subjected to infidelity accusations almost daily?

I’d settled for his mediocrity knowing damn well I deserved royal treatment. I wasn’t going for it anymore.

The next morning, I woke up with multiple missed calls and apologetic paragraphs.

I deleted the messages and blocked Marshall’s number.

I was done. The constant accusations had become tiresome and the indirect threat on Bern’s life was the cherry on top.

I was good on him. I was honest with myself.

I stayed with Marshall because he was attractive and looked good on paper.

A branch manager at the bank, no kids, nice house.

Decent family background. But that shit didn’t mean anything.

Not only was he a stingy nigga, but he was a shitty individual.

Even though I knew I made the best decision, my mood was still sour.

I was thankful that I didn’t have any clients this morning besides Bern.

I fixed Aunt Fee breakfast and got her situated for the day while I waited for Bern to show up.

I showered and got dressed in a simple tank with matching biker shorts.

Five minutes before eleven there was a knock on the door. I had little flutters in my belly as I opened the door to a smiling Bern. He wore a vintage Enyce T-shirt with dark jeans and sneakers.

“Come on in,” I instructed. “What you got in them bags?”

He walked in and placed the plastic bags on the kitchen table.

“I got you a turkey sub and a chef’s salad.

I didn’t know which you would want so I got both.

And I got you a smoothie to sip on until you’re ready to eat.

I think the lady said it had strawberries, pineapple, lime juice, or something in it. ”

If this man didn’t do anything else, he was going to make sure I ate. I appreciated his thoughtfulness. Or his bossiness. I wasn’t sure which it was.

“Well, thank you kindly.” I placed the sandwich and salad in the fridge for later. I put the straw in the cup and took a sip of the smoothie. I closed my eyes and a moan slipped from my lips. It was so delicious.

“You like it?” he asked as he plopped down in my chair.

“Yes, thank you so much for thinking of me.”

“I always think of you, Isley. You know that.”

“I know and I truly appreciate it.”

If I needed the shirt off his back, I knew he’d give it to me then offer his pants too. Having someone who truly had my back was something I never took for granted. And it was exactly why I had to let Marshall’s ass go. Bern’s loyalty to me had stood the test of time.

I ran my fingers through his damp, disheveled hair. The fresh scent of his shampoo lingered. I grabbed my phone and played neo soul music then got started on his hair.

“How’s the business coming along so far?” I asked.

“It’s cool. I had to repair a few things, but it was expected. It’s an older carwash that I will eventually update after I stack some more bread.”

“That’s what’s up. I just know it’s going to be successful,” I assured him. “I lowkey been entertaining the idea of renting a booth, so I can stop bringing strangers here.”

“You should do that for real. And it will help you separate work from home.”

“Once I rebuild my savings the way I want, I probably will.” I shrugged.

“Let me know what I can do to help you with it. You know I got you.”

“No sir, you do enough as it is.”

“I ain’t trying to hear that shit, Isley. If I have it, it’s yours. I’ve told you that a million times. I don’t care how much you think I’ve done. When it comes to you, there’s no ceiling. I’d give you my last.”

I didn’t respond. I believed every word he spoke. There was a comfortable silence while I continued to retwist and style his hair. I was done within an hour’s time. I handed him a mirror so he could check it out.

“Fresh… just as I expected,” he said as he admired his reflection then handed the mirror back to me.

I removed the cape from around his neck and began to fold it.

“Hey, Icey. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?”

He stood from the chair and placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He almost seemed a little nervous. I grabbed my cup and took another sip of my smoothie. My tummy began feeling a little funny. My mouth began to water profusely and a wave of nausea quickly came over me.

“Hold on,” I quickly blurted out as I made a dash to the bathroom.

I had barely gotten the toilet seat up before the contents of my belly erupted from my mouth. The spasm in my belly hit again and I upchucked once again. I sat over the toilet for a few more seconds until the feeling passed.

“You alright?” Bern appeared at the door.

I nodded as I stood from the floor and flushed the toilet. I rinsed my mouth before grabbing a washcloth and my toothbrush and toothpaste. Bern watched me as I brushed my teeth and wiped my face. His face was decorated with worry lines.

“Where’d you get that smoothie again?” I asked, walking past him toward the living room.

“The little shop not too far from my house… Icey, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Naw… my last period was…” I squinted as I attempted mental math.

As the math began to math, my eyes grew wide and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. My period was at least a week late. No, no, no. I can’t be pregnant.

“Oh shit, Icey.”