The emotional sequel to "Will You Stay?" 🤍 [Please read first]
Jay's on his own now, left to figure out life after the death of his first love, Domonique, 5 years ago. He's working on himself, trying his best to be a good father, and searching fo...
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Domonique
"Sade."
"Mm?"
"You damn near 'bout to rip my edges out, super heavy-handed ass," I groaned. She smacked me with a comb and continued cornrowing my hair. I knew how to do cornrows, but my hair had just gotten so long and thick that I didn't feel putting up with it anymore. Sade always offered to do it for me, as long as I compensated her with food or anything else she asked for.
"You complaining? I'll stop right now." Half my head was in neat rows, and the other half was a blow dried mess.
"Okay sorry. Just," I grimaced in pain, "go easy on me, damn."
"I got your 'damn'."
I could feel her roll her eyes behind me, but I let her finish the last plait before I turned around.
"What's your problem, miss girl?"
"You askin' me when I've been askin' you. And you just been lyin' right to my face."
I scrunched up my eyebrows, confused. "Hm?"
"Robin. Stop fuckin' wit' me, tell me what's going on."
I shrugged, getting up from the floor and sitting beside her on the couch. She turned and sat criss cross and I put my legs in her lap. "I'm being forreal, what you talmbout? Nothin' going on."
She deadfaced me, clearly not believing my words. "First it was all the clubbing, the getting drunk, allat. Then I'm hearing you call someone name in your sleep, you cryin' over him. I shrugged it off cause I thought, 'oh she's just drunk.' But every other time after that night you always get in your feelings when we drink, thinking about whoever this guy is. He got you all sad and shit, even sober. At the clinic you're not your usual witty self and even when I see you it's like you not here with me."
I looked down, surprised that she picked up on those changes in me. I thought I was doing pretty well hiding how much I wanted to fall apart.
As the weeks went by it was harder for me to keep up with the façade. For five years, I've pretended to be someone I'm not. Assuming a fake name, a fake background, a fake life. Doing work I really don't give a fuck about. Not being completely truthful about who I am to the only person in my life I could call a friend.
Waiting for Raheem to do whatever he claims to be doing so that I can go back to a sense of normalcy. I absolutely wanted no part in whatever it was, but it was taking too long. There were times where I just couldn't wait any longer. I'd given in and called Jay's phone several times, knowing I could never confirm to him that it was me, even though he could feel me through the phone.
Instead, I'd just listen to him ask over and over, "That you, D?" He'd tell me everything was okay and that he would help me if I was in trouble. He'd tell me how much he missed me and I'd hear him sniffling over the phone. It hurt every single time to end the call. It hurt me that I was hurting him by calling. It hurt that I couldn't be with him, touch his face, his hair, snuggle up to his arms. But at least I could hear his voice, I could hear him say my real name.
