Chapter 4 - Pay For Desert
1152 Words
I had my first boyfriend at seventeen.
I'm twenty seven now.
My last boyfriend was at twenty three, ever since then I've been single.
They both cheated, and maybe I could excuse the first one because we were both young, but how do I excuse the last? He was twenty five, an age where maturity should be acquired, common sense as well.
If you don't love someone anymore, or if you feel like you want to be with someone else, then why cheat? Just leave.
No one is chained to a tree in a relationship, unless you're being abused then that's a different situation. There's absolutely no reason to cheat, and anyone who says otherwise is a piece of scum.
Why would you want to put such insecurity and emotional uncertainty into someone? Why would you do that?
Sigh, love is difficult to understand, and maybe if I was simple minded, I would choose to stay away.
However, we simply cannot live without love.
Sure we can survive without it, but we cannot live without it.
I know a lot of people decide that single life is the best life, and they go out and they travel and do all these things on their own, but when they're done, when the hype is all over, when they return to their big houses in the hills . . . they're alone. And even if they turn to family and friends to fill that hole of loneliness that they so desperately try to push away, they know deep down that it's still empty.
Man was made to be loved and to give love.
We all have a very limited time on Earth, why would I want to spend it not living?
That's very weird.
As I pulled on the pretty navy blue knee length dress that I decided to wear to the wedding, I thought about what I would wear to mine.
Would it trail the length of the aisle? Would the lace spread across my skin? Would the jewels shine in the artificial light?
I smile lightly, pushing a white pin into my braided bun.
I'll find love, that's for sure, it's just a matter of when.
#
"You may kiss the bride." The church erupts in cheers and laughter, and I look quietly as the bride's father dabs his tears with his handkerchief.
Samson was a short white male that worked with us for a very long time as well. He wore big classes, and his cheeks were always flushed. His eyes were blue, and his hair was a dark brown, a pretty strange combination, but it looked good.
His bride wasn't someone I was familiar with, she was taller than him, not by much Though. They seemed completely lost in each other as he helped her down the stairs.
They couldn't stop grinning.
They acknowledged everyone with a wave before running out of the church, it was hilarious.
"You look beautiful," Wendy whispers and I smile.
"Thank you, you do too."
"Oh stop it, you're just saying that."
I was indeed just saying that.
We all head into the reception area; it was decorated with crystals lining the wall and dazzling white lights. It was a bit much of you ask me but hey, I was just here for the food.
"I'll see you in a bit Amari, I'm gonna spend some time at the buffet table." She happily disappears and I chuckled while shaking my head at her.
"Maybe the food here is better." Tristan takes a seat at my table, and I take the one next to him.
"Yeah, maybe."
"I haven't spoken to you since the diner, how've you been?"
I shrug. "You know, good."
He laughs and I raise an eyebrow.
"You are so weird, you know that?"
"I mean I guess so, but I'm only weird because you haven't met anyone like me. I'm not weird, I'm different."
"Ah, that's very true," he nods, "very true."
"Why're you here? Do you know Samson?"
"The bride is actually my cousin."
"Oh, small world."
"It is, she was actually the one who introduced me to Wendy's Electronic Shop, haven't switched up since."
"Glad to hear it." I grin and he winks.
We sit in silence, well not silence, cause the music was booming, but there was nothing being said between the two of us.
We watch the bride and groom interact with each other, feeding each other cake and dancing, and I don't know about him but that's exactly what I wanted.
I wanted someone to just be able look at us and know that we're in love. Whenever they saw my significant other, they would think of me, and vice versa.
I wanted us to be complete in public, and fulfilled in private.
"Your desperation is showing," Tristan bursts my thought bubble and I roll my eyes.
"I'm not desperate."
"Yes you are.
Yes I am.
"Whatever." I stand to make my way to the buffet table, and he follows.
"Do you not have friends or something?"
"Aren't you my friend?"
I chuckle.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"You want to be with me, how could I be your friend?" His jaw falls open, I grab a plate and start picking out my food.
"Who says that I want to be with you?"
"It's obvious, Tristan."
"Wow." He mutters and I shrug.
"There's no shame in that. Sadly I've met countless men that I wanted to be with, but they didn't want to be with me."
"Ouch."
"Right- oh no, no ketchup." The server apologizes and I nod, grabbing a drink from the cooler. "You don't want anything?" I ask, noticing that his hands were empty.
"Nah, I'm not planning to stay too long."
"Oh, official FBI duties?" I smile and he snorts.
"Bed duties."
"Lame."
"Well, what're you're plans after the wedding? Boyfriend hunting again?"
"Maybe, most likely."
"Jeez Amari," he shakes his head and I raise an eyebrow. We stood at the sides since our seats were now occupied, as I shoved food into my mouth. "Why don't you just wait for them to come to you?"
"Tristan, I'm 26, what if they decide to come and 40? What babies am I going to have then?"
"You can have a ba-"
"When they're twenty I'll be sixty!" I snap and he raises both hands. Taking a deep breath, I decide to focus on the delicious smoked chicken and potato salad. Black people definitely cooked this.
"Is it better" he asks, nodding towards the food.
"Way better." I reply without a doubt in my mind.
"Glad to hear it." He turns on his side, smiling with his hands in the pant pockets. I awkwardly stop midway into biting a chicken, staring straight ahead.
"What're you doing?"
"What are you doing?" I ask, even though its muffled. Realizing that I looked ridiculous, I took away the chicken and stare back at him. "What?" I was a bit annoyed, I just wanted to eat.
"You're just so pretty."
"Oh. . . I know but thanks." I continue eating as he chuckles.
"Let's go out for desert after." I think about it before shrugging. At least he knows where we stand, I'm not interested in him and therefore he would avoid any personal or conflicting interactions.
"Fine but I'll choose."
"Really sorry about the diner."
"You can make up for it by paying for desert."
"Done."
- Writer
