Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

My breath catches in my chest when I come to a picture of my Hamilton, hugged up with some cocoa brown–skinned sister. Putting a face to my nemesis. They’re looking into each other’s eyes the way we do. Connecting. The picture is framed in a heart and there is a voice tag attached.

I push the door completely closed and lower the volume on the phone. What I hear next makes my stomach sick.

“Hi, Tish.” Hamilton’s mellow baritone seems to fill the tiny bathroom. The tightening in my chest is causing me to strain for air. “Don’t we make the perfect couple? I miss you and I love you.”

I’m in a full wheeze now, blinking back tears as they begin to sting my eyes.

Five … four … three … I slowly count. I’ve got to regain control before the panic sets in.

How did I become my mother—the woman I despised? I vowed to never be that dumb, loving a cheater … But look at me now.

I open the cabinet and pull out the small paper I hid when I came home today. When I’m away from Hamilton, I get small snatches of clarity and write things down—affirmations. I hide them around the house, to be able to pull them out and save myself during moments like this.

Characteristics of a sociopath: manipulative and cunning, incapacity for love, infidelity, incapable of real human attachment to another.

He’s sick and doesn’t even know it.

I hear the bed move. Quickly, I shut the phone and wait the sixty seconds for the backlight to go off. (I told you this shit is ridiculous!) I slide the bathroom door open slowly and let silent feet lead me back into the bedroom. I slip his phone back into his pants and pause just a moment before I pull the covers back to get into bed.

I’m having a very familiar battle inside my head. This has got to end. My head falls gently against the pillow. The fighter in me doesn’t want to give up. This is war.

I study his face for a long time. He sleeps so peacefully. His silhouette has an auburn glow in the moonlight. Those beautiful eyes rest undisturbed. He is beautiful. The devil himself. The nearness of his caramel skin calls to me. I nestle my head against his chest and slowly pull the sheets all the way back so I can clearly see the outline of his penis in contrast to the room’s darkness. Each time he exhales, it rises almost a full two inches before settling back into its original position. The whole scene is excruciatingly erotic to me.

I squeeze my eyes tightly, trying to shut out the image of him and this “Tish.” The vision of his penis penetrating her with the same piercing pleasure he gives to me causes me to ache all over.

• • •

“Aftinn, what is wrong with you, girl?” I can hear Chante’s neck swinging through the phone. “You find out he’s got another chick in the wings, and you acting like it don’t even matter!”

“I knowwww …” I whine. “I don’t understand. As stupid as it sounds, I just can’t get him out of my system.” I needed Chante to help strengthen my resolve.

“You know what it is …” She pauses for emphasis. I imagine she’s got her arms folded and is nodding her head like she always does.

“What?”

“It’s that PP … Umm hmm … Yep!”

“What? Girl ain’t no R. Kelly going on over here!”

“Not that kind. I’m talking about the PP. Possessed Penis! Girl, get out now, before you hurt yourself!” We both fall into laughter.

“Chante, I’m trying. But every time that negro gets back into this house, it’s like my mind goes blank and I let him lead me straight to Hell. Now he’s hinting that he wants me to move in with him.” I clutch the phone against my left ear and start to rub my temples.

“What!”

I didn’t want to tell her, but I had to get it off my chest. “Yesterday, when we were having dinner, he commented on how stupid it is for us to pay for two places when we’re always together.”

“You better not even be thinking about it …”

The “or I’ll kick your ass” lingered unspoken between us.

“I know … It’s stupid! I had to actually shovel food into my mouth to keep from agreeing. It’s like I’m in a trance or something!”

“Humph. It’s the PP, I’m telling you! You better be careful.”

“I will,” I tell her. “Listen, I gotta run, but I’ll hit you up later.”

“Yeah. Sure you will.” She knows once I get within ten feet of Hamilton, it’s a wrap. I don’t make calls or take calls from anyone.