Rebel: Chapter 1

Will this day ever end? I was taking a much needed bathroom break. The boutique had been a madhouse today and I was more than ready to say adios. I touched up my red lip gloss and pulled the curls of my mohawk up to its maximum height. When I turned to exit, I felt my cell phone vibrate. I frowned when I saw my ex’s name appear on my phone. Despite my better judgment, I answered the phone.

“Rebel, I miss you,” she confessed. I watched the girl in the mirror frown.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”

“Be like what? I told your ass six months ago when you left that you could not come back.”

“You know you didn’t mean that…”

“I didn’t?” I took a deep breath. “Did you mean it when you said you weren’t ready to settle down? Did you mean it when you said you didn’t believe in forever? Did you mean it when you said monogamy didn’t suit you?” My words came out quickly and louder than I anticipated. The other end of the phone was quiet. “Well, did you?” The girl in the mirror looked as though she was having a tantrum. I watched as her arms were flailing and her eyes darkened in anger.

“I did, but-“

“If you meant what you said, then why the fuck wouldn’t you believe I meant what I said when I told your good-for-nothin-jobless-black-cheatin-ass not to even think you could ever get another whiff of this?”

“Because you still accept my calls.”

“Really? Then maybe I should stop.” Click. I disconnected the call.

Taking a deep breath, I rushed out of the powder room bumping into a customer in my haste. A tall customer with hazel eyes and locs. Any other day, I would have flashed her my dimpled smile, but I wasn’t my normal flirtatious self. She placed her hands on my hips to steady me as I felt myself ankles wobble courtesy of my ridiculous 6 inch stilettos. Her hands were warm at my waist and even in my grouchy mood, I couldn’t help but notice how the finger tips of her hands almost met. Gotta love a girl with big hands.

“Oh, excuse me!” I said, as I tried to talk myself out of blushing. My cheeks weren’t listening.

“Excuse me, too, beautiful.” She spoke and I found myself looking into thickly lashed hazel eyes. I put an extra swing in my hips as I glided away from her, causing my dress to flow around me. I looked behind me, catching her smirking at my swaying my ass. I rolled my eyes. Pervert, I thought with a smile.

I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I knew exactly who it was. I found myself sighing deeply. I felt my mind floating back six months…

We met with our real estate agent early one Monday morning. After being together for almost 3 years, we decided it was time for us to take the next step. She knew how much it meant for me to own my own home. It symbolized security and stability. Everything I had craved as a child.

It was late in the evening by the time we had finished and I noticed that she had started to become a bit fidgety. She seemed disinterested and uncomfortable. When she told me she wanted to talk, I wasn’t surprised. I thought she was going to tell me that she wasn’t ready to make that type of financial obligation, especially considering she was having a hard time finding employment. Property in California was expensive. I was in sticker shock, I expected her to be as well.

I prepared myself for her uncertainty with a glass of wine. I had just pressed it to my lips to when she started speaking.

“Rebel, I can’t do this.” She sat on the couch across from me, her hands tightly clenched. She couldn’t meet my eyes. “This is too much. Living together is one thing, but buying property…Man, we’ll be tied together…Indefinitely…I mean, it’s such a huge commitment.”

“Wait, what the fuck are you tryin’ to say, Max?”

“I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for you. I’m not ready for us. I’m not ready to be with one woman. There’s somebody else…”I felt my hands clenching. I wanted to hit her. I pictured myself hitting her over the head with the bottle of wine that sat on the table between us…But she was half a foot taller and outweighed me by at least 60lbs. I didn’t think assaulting her physically would be in my best interest. Actually I knew for a fact how a physical act would turn out… So I did the next best thing. I assaulted her verbally.

“There’s somebody else? There is somebody else out there stupid enough to want your broke ass? How long has it been since you worked? I’ve lost count. Is it eight months or nine? Does she know you don’t have a fucking dime to your name?” My hands were moving in front of me, visual exclamation marks for my words.

“She doesn’t care about that stuff. She’ll take care of me until I can get back on my feet.”

“Gee, isn’t she sweet.” I said sarcastically. We stared at each other for almost 30 seconds, neither of us blinked or spoke. ”So what are you waiting on?”

“What do you mean?” She looked confused.

“Get your shit and get out. Did you think you were going to lay your whorish ass up in here after you told me this shit? Get. The. Fuck. Out.”  I opened the front door for her. “And when six months go by and she’s tired of your worthless ass, don’t come crawling back to me.” I slammed the door in her face.

I was grateful when I was approached by one of my regular customers jarring me out of my reverie with some superficial babble about an overpriced designer bag. The cost of the bag was more than my mortgage and the commission I would make was enough to pay my car note.

While I was helping the customer, I saw the hazel eyed stranger talking to my manager. It was then that I noticed the camera hanging around her neck. A photographer working for the man. I shook my head. A corporate clicker. What. A. Waste.

The stranger pretended to be interested in the men’s clearance rack. I watched her steal furtive glances at me, averting her gaze every time I looked in her direction. I rushed through my customers, hoping that I would get a free moment to tease the stranger about her stalker tendencies. When the shop was completely empty, she started walking towards the door. I felt defeated. Before she closed the door behind her, she looked back at me. Our eyes met briefly before she hopped on her motorcycle and sped off.

I shook my head in an attempt to shake the daydream of me riding on the back of the huge bike with my skirt hiked up and flying behind me, my arms wrapped around her waist and my head pressed into her locs. The image was stuck in my mind. Get it together girl…

Rebel & Rene is a collaborative work between Knowledge and Alix B. Golden. Find Rebel’s story, here every Thursday, as told by ABG. To read more from her, please visit her blog, A Brown Girl Gone Gay.