Say Goodbye to Jennifer

I’m gettin’ tired of bein’ played.  

And that’s what’s happenin’ here. I’m bein’ played like a fiddle. Again. I’m dancing to her tune. And I know better. I mean, how’s this different from any other time? When have I gotten within three feet of this woman and didn’t regret it to the bone? She dangles the bait and I snap at it like a salmon that can’t wait to hit the grill. I go all in knowin’ that’s what’s gonna happen. Again.

And I'm never disappointed. 

But, today, now, a brotha’s hit the ceiling. Had his fill. Can't take no mo'. He’s ready to leave the table. 

And I tell her that ... 

She don’t say much but ya boy’s not blind. Somewhere deep inside she hurts. She can smile in my face, but I know she’d never expect her boy to walk away. Would never expect ya boy to ... turn his back. 

But what am I s’posed to do? I can’t jam myself up. Not now. Got too much at stake. I could lose my license. Mess up this new job. Could end up in prison. 

Well, back in prison.  

That’s a vacation I never wanna take again. 

So, I tell ‘er. I tell a sista we’re done. Again. Sorry. Can’t help ya. Ain’t gonna. Good luck. Have a terrific day, babe. On the rebound. 

Then I’m s’pose to grab my coat and umbrella and start that long walk to far away from here. Not call a Uber or even catch a ride on the curb. That’d leave ya boy in the proximity too long. Nope. Just start ta walkin’ until I can't turn 'round. 

Except I don’t do any a that. I tell ‘er. I let ‘her react. And fifteen minutes after, I'm still there. 

I don’t go.

I never go. I never walk away. 

Damn. 

There’s a pathetic reason for that. See, no matta how much I wanna pretend... How much I wanna deny... I still love ‘er. I still love Jennifer. Always have. And ain’t no reason ta believe a brotha'll ever stop. 

So, I stay and we stew in the quiet. And it gets cold. And I’m not sayin’ we feelin' the rain in here. It’s just cold ... between us. 

I stay. Cuz I just don’t have the balls to leave Jennifer. Leave her to fend for herself when I coulda helped. I wouldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. So, it makes no sense to pretend I could go home, pour me some Hennesey, and read Goines while she out here tryin’ to figure it out. I’m not sayin’ she helpless. Hell, no. She slick as oil. But, if anything went wrong...

So, I stay. 

I stay until I tell her I changed my mind. She don’t show any relief. Not her style. But I know she appreciates me. And that’s when I get my coat and umbrella and head for that important dinner that’s gonna change my life. And I go with a clear conscience knowin’ after that dinner I’ll get back ta her. Get back ta work and figure out what the hell’s goin’ on. 

Not that any of my nobility made a difference. 

See, inside a hour, Jennifer’d be dead. Found on the floor we was standin’ on. And the doorman would tell the poleese a brotha was up there and no one went up after I left. Before the night was out, the police will come lookin’ for ya boy. Some extremely unpleasant people will pay ya boy a visit in a dark pissy Brooklyn alley. And a jealous pimp-meth-dealer-boyfriend would take a coupla shots at me. Three times.

And throughout all that and beyond, one thing would gnaw at the core of my soul. Nibble at my psyche for the rest of my life.

I never said goodbye to Jennifer. 

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Big fan of noir and crime stories. The story was also inspired by the image which I'd already started for no reason at all. 

Words: 600

Word Count: 966
Hours Spent: 5
Software Used: DAZ Studio 4 With IRAY, Photoshop