Page 43 of Lovetown, USA
Trey
Day twenty-six.
Not the singing group. The number of days I’ve lived on this earth after she dumped me without seeing her face or hearing her voice.
I sit in the car outside the courthouse, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the button. My chest feels heavy. It has every single day since she left.
I press the button and wait.
“Hey. It’s me,” I say to the voicemail. “It’s day twenty-six. Twenty-six days of missing you. Being miserable.” My throat closes, but I push through. “I keep thinking if I tell you every day, you’ll…I don’t know. Maybe you’ll believe it. Anyway, I miss you. Please call me back.”
I hang up and slide the phone in the glove box. Time to go face the rest of my mess.
The courtroom is colder than usual today, or maybe it’s just me. Desiree takes the stand first, hands folded neatly, eyes steady.
There really isn’t much she can say that Jarvis didn’t already testify to—I picked Cam up from school early because he had a migraine. Got home early, caught that nigga in my house, and blacked on his ass. Not much else to say, really.
The prosecutor asks her to tell the court what she saw that night. When she speaks, her voice is firm.
“Jarvis jumped on Trey and started beating him.”
The prosecutor whirls around, his face beet red. He looks how I feel. “Come again?”
“Jarvis attacked Trey.”
He looks at Judge Barnes and asks to approach. There’s fervent discussion up there, while my eyes go to my ex-wife. She doesn’t look at me, just keeps her chin up, waiting for her chance to lie again, I guess.
I had no idea she was gonna do this.
Then they call my son up to the stand. My boy. Like his mother, he swears to tell the truth, then does the exact opposite.
He glances at me once before focusing on the prosecutor. “Jarvis threatened my dad. I was scared he was gonna hurt him. And I saw him jump on him. My dad was just defending himself.”
The words sink into me like stones.
They think they’re saving me. But at what cost?
By the end of the day, the gavel falls, the jury comes back quick, and I’m told I’m not guilty.
I should feel relief. I should go celebrate. But when me, Desiree, and Cam sit down at the Red Lobster down the street, I can’t even enjoy the cheddar bay biscuits. My mind is racing.
Finally, I blurt it out.
“What the hell were y’all thinking?”
Desiree arches a brow. “We were thinking you don’t deserve to be punished for defending your home.”
Cam nods, trying to act older than his years. “We weren’t about to let them take you out, Dad.”
I shake my head, unsettled by this. “I don’t like this. I really don’t. Cam, listen to me. I don’t want you to think lying is the way to win. That’s not how we raised you.”
Desiree rolls her eyes. “When did you get so pious?”
“It ain’t about that.”
“I mean, were you trying to go to jail? Did you wanna lose your license? Help me out, Trey.”
I sit back, taking another go at the biscuit on my plate. It tastes like cardboard in my mouth.
Desiree excuses herself after she finishes her salad. Something about getting some work done back at the hotel. I agree to bring Cam home. She kisses his cheek, pats my shoulder, then she’s gone.
The two of us, me and Cam, stare at our untouched plates.
Finally, he picks up his fork. “I mean, if you ain’t gon’ eat…”
“Go ahead.”
I blow out a sigh. I’m deeply unsatisfied with this victory, and I don’t know why.
“Is she answering your calls yet?”
I shake my head. “That’s done.”
“You giving up?”
“Nah. At this point, I’m just pestering her. She’s done. It ain’t happening.”
He chews his scampi, deep in thought. “Sounds like you’re giving up. That ain’t like you.”
I take my Long Island ice tea to the head. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this, but look. I didn’t cheat on her. I wasn’t mistreating her. I get being upset, but to cut me completely off over this…that’s crazy to me. It’s been almost a month.”
Cam studies me for a long time, his eyes too sharp for a kid his age. “So you’re saying she should understand that you meant well.”
“I mean…maybe.”
“Because your intentions were good, and you didn’t directly hurt her.”
“Pretty much.”
“So, basically, what me and Mama just did for you.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut.
The realization is sharp and brutal.
This fucking kid.
I love him.
“Eat your food, boy.”
He chuckles, grabbing the basket, sliding all the biscuits over to his side of the table.
Back at the hotel, I dial her again, ashamed that I ever entertained the idea of quitting. My daddy didn’t raise no quitter. I fight for everything I want. I never fucking back down. Ever.
I press the button.
It goes straight to voicemail this time.
I think…did she block me?
Yeah. She did. My last text was never even delivered.
Well, shit.
I open CashApp and send her $300. The note says: Please unblock me.
The next day, back at home, still blocked. I try again. $500. Please. I just need to talk to you.
The day after that, I don’t have shit else to lose. Still blocked. $1000.
Baby please. I love you
It’s desperate and pathetic, but it’s all I got.
When I swing by the clinic to check on the new building’s progress, I expect it to be the one thing on this earth that can cheer me up right now. Instead, I stand there in the husk of what’s supposed to be my dream, feeling nothing but the empty space around me.
Because what good is building something if your woman isn’t there to see it with you?