17: Taste of Regret

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Ch. 17

 17

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They say fear is temporary and regret is forever

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They say fear is temporary and regret is forever. Which scares me more, fear or regret you ask? Fear is a bitch, I'll give it that. I fear being broken hearted again. I fear being broken down again. And most of all, I fear being abandoned again. But I also think I'll feel worse if I have regrets in life. If I die with regrets, I have lived a half ass life and Zipporah Diop does NOT do anything half ass. I give everything my all and maybe that's why I always find myself hurt in the end.
-Z.D.

I post the update to my blog and when my cellphone dings with a text message I pick it up from my desk. I look at my home screen with a notification of a text from Sahara that reads: Outside.

I put my computer on sleep, grab my phone then get up from my desk. I quickly grab my MCM crossbody box bag then head towards the entrance of my studio apartment. I grab my keys, turn the lights out then leave.

As I walk out of my apartment building and carefully step down each step in my gold Steve Madden heels I see the uber that's supposed to be picking me up waiting in front. Tonight is my Aunt Rama's engagement party and I was expecting a real party. One thing I can say is Africans know how to party. Hopefully, it turns out better than that Halloween party I called myself going to last weekend.

As I make it down the last steps the backseat door of the black Nissan Altima opens and a foot wearing a white heel plants on the ground. I see those chocolate legs swing out and I already know who it is. I invited Sahara just so I wouldn't have to deal with my crazy family alone. Maybe it would distract some of my nosy, old aunts from the fact I didn't bring an actual man as my date. At twenty they were already trying to marry me off.

"Look at my mutha fuckin' best friend," I say observing her.

"Look at my mutha fuckin' best friend," I say observing her

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