A Week and One Day Later

Yesterday afternoon I received a text message from Deondre.
 
I held my breath as I read the message. He was getting sworn in as an officer of the court at 6pm and wanted me there.
 
Of course, his fuck ass waited 30 minutes before the ceremony to contact me.  Turns out his mom and brother were besotwed the initial invite. They were 20 minutes away from the school but had chosen to take a detour and purchase a new car.
 
No comment.
 
I exhaled and called my homegirl for assistance. When she reached the parking lot my hands were shaking. I was overcome with rage and if not for the fact that I was a crackberry fein might have hurled the phone into a wall.
 
I ran to my car and re-applied my makeup.  Made sure my lipglass was popping.  Put on my Versace glasses to remind him of his fantasy.
 
I was wearing dark denim jeans.  His favorite.  A shirt with the school's logo.  I was casual but cute.  My bamboo earrings were weighing my lobes down, but they too were a favorite of his.  All I needed were my wheat Timbs and he'd be in love
 
We met him at the courthouse.  He was wearing a blue, pin-stripped suit and to twist the knife inside my pussy even more he had the nerve to wear a tie I bought him for graduation.  He was also wearing the matching tie clip and cufflinks.
 
It wasn't as though he did it on purpose, considering he had no idea we'd see each other that day.  But looking at him accessorized by my efforts made me want to regurgitate and swallow.
 
He was all smiles when he saw me.  I dodged his hug.  My homegirl embraced and congratulated him. Now I have bitch tendencies, but was able to see past getting played and congratulate him on the beginning of his career.
 
He pulled me aside to talk.  The talk I envisioned over the past week involved a restaurant, sharp knives, and a cup of scorching coffee I could accidentally knock over unto his lap.
 
I asked him why he chose to invite me and not his girlfriend.  He stated that he did not have a girlfriend anymore.  I apologized.  I lied.  He said he wasn't sorry they weren't together.  I retracted my statement and told him neither was I.  He smiled and grabbed my hand.  He stood there holding my hand while looking into my eyes. 
 
It would have been the perfect time to slap the shit out of him, but I figured it was not courtroom appropriate.  Looking back, he was probably staring at my frames, imaging skeeting white lava all over them.
 
"All rise," demanded the bailiff.  The process was short and simple.  Deondre raised his right hand, repeated a promise to serve and protect, and was officially an attorney.
 
My homegirl cried.  I held back a tear, and couldn't help but become nostalgic.  I was flooded with thoughts of him trying to convince me to get my doctorate degree. 
 
The day he was accepted into law school.  The moment he told me that he was quitting his job.  The feeling of despair.

The first day I saw him again after two years of phone sex, Wednesday red-eye flights into my city, numerous fuck friends, and his parent's divorce.
 
It was an amazing feeling to watch him realize his dreams.  To see all of his hard work come to fruition.  It was beautiful.
 
I quickly snapped out of nostalgia and realized this nigga was still on my shit list.
 
I waited for him to return. Handed him his program and walked away.
 
No goodbye.  No "I'm proud of you".  No pictures.  I had to escape before I became weak.
 
He text'd me an hour later saying that we needed to talk.  Trying to be a hard ass, I told him what had to be said could only happen in person and if he couldn't make that shit happen, then today was it.
 
He apologized.
 
I responded with blank space to let him know this time I was not buying his bullshit.
 
Faye always comments that when a man has fucked up so much you don't even want to fuck him, he should kill himself. That when he isn't worth eating your pussy, he should kill himself with a dull knife.
 
Right now I want to give Deondre a butter knife and tell him which vein supplies the most blood to his heart.