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Sapphire Westlock - 2:32 PM - New York Times Headquarters
"Yes sir, I'll relay the message. You too, have a good day" I hang up the office phone at my desk. That was a reporter hoping to schedule an interview with Mrs. Welch.
I grab my scheduling book and head back to her office.
"Jamal Whitning with the New York post was hoping to schedule an interview with you" I tell her, leaning on the glass door to her office.
"Tell him to kick rocks" she waves her hand in dismissal. "Okay" I nod and go to close her door.
"Wait, Sapphire" she stops me.
"What's wrong" she asks and I sigh. She points towards the chair and I sit down.
"Me and Jah got into a fight last week. He doesn't understand how much I do for him" I shake my head.
"I get it, relationships can be tough. But sometimes, it's about finding a way to communicate effectively. Have you tried talking to him about how you feel?" she asks and I nod.
"I tried, but he just thinks I'm being too strict. He doesn't appreciate what I do for him."
"Young black men don't like to be bound. Especially not one with opportunity, resources, and a whole lot of distractions like Jahbari. It was like that for my husband too..." she trails off.
"I understand that but why would he ask me to marry him if he didn't want to settle down"
"Communication is a two way street. Maybe he's feeling overwhelmed too. Hear him out, understand his perspective. It could be a chance for both of you to grow stronger."
"Maybe.. Thanks for listening."
"You're welcome now get out and get back to work"
"Yes ma'am" I smile and go back to the front desk.
*5:07 PM*
I enter my apartment complex through the parking garage, passing the front desk.
"Ma'am- Mrs. Westlock" the property manager calls out. I roll my eyes.
"Another one?" I ask and he nods.
He reaches down and picks up another vases with two dozen red roses and a little card on the side.
That's seven bouquets of flowers now.
"Thank you" I grab the vase from him and get in the elevator.
I unlock the door and put the vase with the others.
"Sapphire" Jah rasps and scares the shit out of me.
He was sitting on the couch, waiting for me.
He was man spreading, playing with one of the curls that framed his face.
