Page 25 of Taming a Menace

It surprised me that he was listening to an old school mix of R&B. I would have thought it was one of those quiet storm radio stations if he wouldn’t have changed the song. The vibe was mellow. I liked that.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Key’s truck riding to his house reminded me of how much I missed riding shotgun with Wyatt listening to the radio.

He usually let me be the DJ. Key’s choice of music was perfect.

It didn’t take long for us to pull up to our destination.

Suddenly I was nervous as he parked curbside in front of a duplex.

He switched the engine off and looked over at me.

“Don’t touch that door, Moon,” he warned.

“Yes, sir.” I shrugged.

I had no problem letting a man open the door for me if he chose to do so. I wasn’t one of those overly independent women who thought they didn’t need a man for anything. I might not have necessarily needed one, but I surely wanted someone. I was tired of pretending that I didn’t.

I took a few breaths to get out of my head as Key opened the door for me. I turned to face him, taking his extended hand and letting him help me get out of the truck. It was crazy that he lived so close to where I used to live yet I had never seen him until the night of my anniversary.

“I just moved in here so bear with me.”

“I know how that goes.”

“I was paroled out to my mom’s address, but I just got approved for a change of address. I’ve literally been here less than a week.”

“Tell me there’s at least somewhere for me to sit,” I requested.

“Oh yeah, I got the basics. I’m just working on everything else. I sold a lot of my stuff from before. I knew I would want a new start when I came home,” he said as he opened the door.

After reaching inside and flipping the switch on the wall to turn on the lights in the living room, Key stood aside to let me walk in ahead of him. As I walked into a fully furnished living room, I realized that he was being modest about his living situation.

“This is what just moved in looks like?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah. I haven’t tried to decorate or anything.” He shrugged.

“I didn’t think men decorated.”

“I try to do a little something to make it feel like home. You feel me? I haven’t had the chance to do all that.

I’ve been staying with my mom. I can’t believe my parole officer approved my change of address actually.

He swears it’s just a matter of time before I go back anyway.

That’s why I been working, coming to my sessions, and keeping my head down. ”

“You left out the part about fighting in the club,” I mentioned.

“And every time a nigga tries you in my presence my freedom will be in jeopardy because I’m not letting that shit slide.”

“You don’t have to be my hero. I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I’m going to make sure that doesn’t change. Have a seat anywhere. I’ll grab us something to drink,” he said, putting the bags of food on the table.

I was starving, so I didn’t waste time sitting on the couch and opening one of the bags.

I didn’t know which one was mine yet. As I considered opening both bags to check, I realized that I needed to wash my hands.

I didn’t have to ask where the bathroom was since I spotted the open bathroom door as soon as I stood up.

Key was bent over, looking in the refrigerator with his back to me when I walked by to go to the bathroom.

I couldn’t help but glance through the open door of his bedroom as I passed by.

I found it to be yet another fully furnished room.

It was taking me forever to get my house set up the way I wanted it, but I was having fun taking my time decorating.

When I made it in the bathroom, I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it.

What the hell was I doing here? As many times as I had told myself I had no business dealing with or seeing Keywan outside of work, here I was in his bathroom well after ten o’clock at night.

Like he said, we were going to eat, then I could go back to my car. That’s not what I wanted at all.

More than anything, I wanted to find out if the way he’d blown my mind that night at my house was a fluke. I wanted to know if he was always that skilled, or if I was just that desperate and touch starved that night. Something told me that how good he felt wasn’t a one-time thing.

I would have never even been hiding out in this man’s bathroom if it weren’t for Wyatt.

The matter of the pregnant woman with him barely had time to register in my mind after the way he approached me like I was the one who blew up our relationship.

He had a baby on me. Now it was apparent that he was about to have another one.

Her visible bump made it abundantly clear that he was seeing her before he and I broke up. It had barely been three months. She had to be close to six months pregnant with a belly that size. I didn’t care. Did I?

For three years, he and I talked about the importance of waiting until we were married and settled to have children. In those same three years, he’d impregnated two other women. It didn’t seem like marriage before babies was as important to him as he’d proclaimed it to be.

Had Wyatt never planned to have children with me?

What was it about me that made him decide to hold off on starting a family while he was out sowing his wild oats with every other woman in town?

Insecurity was starting to creep in and make me feel like maybe I wasn’t good enough to have a future with a renowned doctor.

Wyatt was a good catch on paper. He’d even fooled me with the perfect boyfriend act for three whole years.

There were red flags and things that made me question our connection, but at the end of the day, I felt like he was the one.

It was possible that I had romanticized our relationship.

In hindsight, there were several times when I should have packed my glad rags and made a quiet exit.

He’d gone on two different trips that were supposed to be for work that never checked out.

He paid the bills though. He didn’t allow me to spend a penny actually.

He gave me any and everything I wanted. Physically he was cold and distant at times.

I understood that we didn’t have the same love language.

I liked acts of service and quality time.

Wyatt only believed in giving gifts. Material things would never keep me as happy as a hug after a stressful day.

When he came in from the office he didn’t like to be touched or talked to for a whole hour after coming home.

I needed to decompress and blow off steam from having to listen to other people’s trauma all day.

I usually had to reach out to Isis for that.

Wyatt hated to talk about work outside of work.

I’d accepted that we were different in a lot of ways. Sometimes that was what made us work. Other times it made me wonder if that was the life I wanted. Deep inside I knew that I had dodged a bullet by leaving our relationship without having to drag a child into the messiness of our situation.

At the same time, I had to wonder if I was the problem.

I wasn’t getting any younger. Time was winding down slowly but surely on my biological clock.

A woman of thirty-three wasn’t exactly an old maid, but I could feel time running out on my child-bearing years.

Another failed relationship made me wonder if children were ever in the cards for me.

When was I going to get my happily ever after in a house with a picket fence and two point five kids?

I wanted a family of my own. I wanted a doting husband to love on and children to raise. How would I feel if my time never came? Sometimes I wondered if I should lower my standards. I might have to do that if I wanted children at all. It didn’t seem like I could get the complete package.

I knew plenty of single mothers. It was one of those things I never wanted to become.

Now I wondered if I was ready to accept that I couldn’t have both a husband and children.

There were plenty of fools that I could get pregnant by without having to worry about the threat of marrying the wrong man because they weren’t the marrying kind. Was that my fate?

I felt like I was mourning my relationship with Wyatt all over again as I fell against the bathroom wall, covering my mouth to muffle my sobs. I cried over the time that I’d wasted trying to build with him while I wasn’t getting any younger. I’d wasted my good years on men who didn’t deserve me.

I could have been living my life to the fullest alone instead of trying to hold on to things that wouldn’t serve me in the long run. Maybe it was time to accept that my happiness wouldn’t come in the form of romantic love. Maybe I needed to be happy with myself.

There was no guarantee that Mr. Right would ever find me.

Mr. Right Now was right outside of this bathroom somewhere willing to please me in any way I chose.

Yet for the sake of a job I’d only had for a few weeks, I was denying myself of my deepest desires.

How could I even think about sex while crying uncontrollably in someone else’s bathroom? Life was absolutely crazy sometimes.

A knock on the bathroom door startled me enough to make me rush over to the bathroom sink and turn on the water.

“Coming,” I said, hoping that I didn’t sound rattled.

“Are you good, Moon? I can take you to your car if you want me to. I’m sure Arthur the Aardvark is gone by now.”

“Who?” I asked, laughing through my tears.

“Open the door, Moon. I don’t think you’re good. I need to see your face, mama.”

I don’t know why I did it, but I unlocked the door and swung it open. The tears wouldn’t stop coming as Key swept me up and carried me bridal style into the living room. I was still cradled in his arms crying into his shirt like a baby when he sat down on the couch.