I have spent the last week in South Korea visiting one of my best friends from undergrad. And y’all know I’m a talker and all of the conversations, from serious to utterly ridiculous, have been the balm I needed. We went to the ocean yesterday, and that has always felt like a recharge for me.
So I’m heading back to the States today, and I feel like I’m actually ready to get to work. Write more. Share more. Create more. Unceasingly.
So today’s story was actually written in my notes app pretty randomly. I like writing scenes, quick glimpses into a character’s life— a look at who they are and how they respond to tension. I feel like a lot can be done with a little. I switch a lot between past and present tense…it was intentional and I hope it doesn’t throw you out of the moment in anyway. I hope you enjoy it.
Broken
By: Katrina Mitchell
He knew I was in a mood when he walked into the kitchen and I had Kendrick blasting.
He noticed, even raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.
He knew how it went. If I had “Aight” or “The Blacker The Berry” playing, he knew some white folks, probably at my job, pissed me off.
If I played “tv off” or “wacced out murals”, anyone could catch these hands.
But today, it was “we cry together”. Just for him. My ire was directed at him.
He sat down on a chair by the kitchen table and just looked at me.
I finished cooking, made a plate for myself, and sat down across from him. He smirked.
“Can you turn the music off?”
“Nope. I like this song.”
The edges of his anger started to peek out. I grabbed my phone and turned down the volume.
He pointed at my plate. “Got any more?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know you were coming home. Haven’t been here in a while.”
“I came home this morning.”
“Must’ve been after I left.”
“That was the point.”
“Is that so?” Now I’m smirking. “Then why are you here now?”
He stared at me blankly. Then he got up, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and pulled his chair closer to me. He sunk his fork into a piece of shrimp before swirling it in the noodles, giving himself a generous bite. I put my fork down at his display, surrendering my plate to him.
The song started over.
When his greedy ass finally came up for air, I asked a different question.
“Do you still love me?”
He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands and mouth with a napkin.
“C’mon man. That’s not the question you really wanna ask, is it?”
“It’s the one you’re avoiding answering, so yes. I wanna know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what answer you want me to give you.”
I nodded, my jaw clenching on its own. “That’s an answer.” I exhale deeply. “You want me to leave you, spare you the embarrassment of being the bad guy.”
“I’m not the bad guy, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“Oh you care. Cuz if you didn’t, you wouldn’t need me to leave you. You’re grown and capable. You can do whatever you want.”
“And you think what I want is to leave you?”
“I think you’re acting like a man who wants to be free, but is too cowardly to do it on his own.”
His eyebrows fly to his forehead. “Cowardly huh?” His voice drops to a dangerous timbre as he leans into me. “Let that be the last time you call me a coward.”
The song replayed.
“You’re wasting my time and yours. If we’re done then be done. All I know is I tried. And now, I don’t care.”
“I called you three times, and each time you sent it to voicemail.”
“Like I said, I don’t care anymore. And yeah you called but I haven’t seen you in a month of sundays—“
“It’s been a week.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“I was giving you space.”
“Did I ask for it?”
We sat in silence, an ominous stare down with catastrophic implications.
The song started over, and a vein in his forehead began to throb. “MAN, TURN THAT SHIT OFF!” He bellowed. I tried my hardest not to react, but picked up my phone and did as he instructed. I had gotten under his skin, and that was the main goal.
He inhaled deeply, then turned towards me, a little calmer than before. “You know how to send a person up a wall.”
“And so do you,” I retorted. “What, you wanted me worried sick? Scared for you? Sick to my stomach, unable to sleep? Well you got about 48 hours of that. But by the time you finally decided, finally deigned to acknowledge me, I was over it. Be wherever, with whoever. I don’t care.”
“You still care.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
I stand up and grab the plate from in front of him, throwing it in the sink and letting it shatter. I point to it, then turn towards him.
“That’s us.”
I walk out of the kitchen.
He gets up and follows behind, catching me by the elbow and spinning me around.
“I’m tired of playing games with you.”
“I’m tired too. Like I said, let’s just be done.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
I yank my arm back. “Well you need to figure it the fuck out… but not here. Go back to whatever hole you crawled into when you first disappeared.”
“You can’t just have me on your time.”
“Neither can you!”
“I reached out. I tried. You didn’t respond.”
“Because you disappeared. You left me hanging first.” Tears sprang to my eyes. They were totally unexpected… but my body knows it has to make sneak moves like that to get me to shed tears. When it comes to emotions I’m a thug.
I swipe at my eyes furiously, angry that he was there to see me upset.
He comes closer and pulls my hands away from my face. The contact, gentle, tender even, makes me want to crumble. I’m still angry, but I was lying when I said I didn’t care.
“You did this on purpose,” I whined.
“What? Made you cry?”
I nod, breaking loose from his grip and turning away. I sit down on the stairs and fan at my eyes… like that’s going to do anything.
He sits a step below me, and leans his back against the rail.
“I-I… shit,” he curses.
I know what he means.
