I'd Rather Be Single 2 (3 page)

I
raced into my large closet and grabbed two arms full of bags and put them all on my bed. Hermes, Gucci, Prada, every designer imaginable spread across my gray comforter. Of course, I put some of my favorite clutches aside, but the purses that Michael and my ex, Teddy, gave me had to go! I was reasonable about my shit. Most of the bags were super expensive, but I wasn't trying to get top dollar for them. I just needed enough to hold me down until I got back on my feet, so I priced everything modestly.

I took pictures and headed to my computer to upload the images.

“Are you fuckin’ serious!” I shouted.

I tossed
my clear mouse across the table and wiped my hands across my face. My damn internet service was shut off, and my ass wasn't even able to upload the images to sell my shit. I hit up Dalia to see which dentist was on duty, because Dr. Sherman wouldn’t mind me coming back into the office to use the computer, but Dr. Raphael was a bitch. She was strict, business oriented, and all about us being professional at the front desk.

“
Dr. Sherman is here. Dr. Raphael just left like fifteen minutes ago, so come on back in. It’s not that busy.” Dalia said.

“
Alright cool, I’m on my way.” I said, slipping my shoes back on.

I
grabbed my camera full of pics, dodged Emma in the lobby, and headed back to the office.

__________

"O
oooh, I want that one, ooh and that one right there. Is that a Louis Vuitton? That shit looks brand new." Dalia was hovering behind me, viewing the images I uploaded.

"Listen, you can have them all
, if you pay for them. I'm just selling them because I need the money."

She sucked her teeth.
"You wouldn't need the money if you got back with your ex. I’m just saying. You are trying to live in that expensive apartment by yourself, when you could be living in a mansion with Michael Slinks. What is wrong with you? I just don't get it."

"And I don't expect you to get it. It wasn't about the money
. I loved him, and when someone shows you their true colors, believe them."

"He was hurt
, Tyra! He heard about your past, niggas running trains on you and shit, what did you expect him to do?"

"
Fuck all that! I expected him to love me, forgive me, and know that he had a good woman in his corner. He wasn’t supposed to hold what happened to me as a child against me. What kinda shit is that? As a child, I was lost and alone, I didn’t know any better. My foster parents didn’t give a shit about me, so I thought the men that showed me attention were genuine. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I wouldn’t hold him accountable for what he did as a teen. I loved him for all of him. He was my world, but I obviously wasn’t his."

Dalia kept
throwing back all kinds of reasons I should be with Michael Slinks, and she annoyed the fuck out of me.

"Listen, I
’d rather be single, alone, struggling to pay my bills with a piece of mind, than to be with a nigga that ain't real."

"Well
, I’d rather be rich, bills paid, with a baller who ain't real than alone and struggling."

"Well
, that's you, Dalia. Now can you check in this gentleman?"

She rolled her eyes and greeted the
chubby gentleman who approached the front desk.

I turned my attention back on my computer.
I posted the bags on Craigslist and instantly received emails from potential buyers. I felt so relieved. I assumed that I would have to constantly keep re-posting the bags and wait for days or even weeks for a hit, but I was wrong. People were emailing me their PayPal information; some women even sent me their phone numbers and said they’d meet me to buy the bags. I felt so blessed. This was literally quick and easy money.

After
I found a buyer for the very last bag that I posted, I was about to head home when Dalia stopped me.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home
? The office closes in twenty minutes. I’m already done with the nightly paperwork, and I just have a few more things to file.”

"Sure." I said
, placing my camera into my purse. My new sales had me in a great mood.

I helped
Dalia file some of the applications, and Dr. Sherman allowed her to leave after he was done with his last patient.

I noticed
Dalia was quiet during the drive home. Her ass is normally never mute, so I knew she had to have something up her sleeve.

She shifted in her seat
and turned my way. "Alright listen, Tyra. I've been thinking. I always hear you talking about how expensive your apartment is, and how it was gonna take you forever to catch up with your bills. Soooo, I was thinking, maybe I could be your roommate and we could go half on the rent." She flinched nervously.

“What?” I asked
with my brows bent.

H
er question took me by surprise. I had to sit with it for a second. "Roommate?” I asked. “We are grown ass women, Dalia."

"True
, but shit I still live with my father, and you have a two bedroom that you can't afford, so it makes sense."

I
kept my eyes on the road, digesting her request. I guess I didn’t respond fast enough, because Dalia made it her duty to try to make me consider it.

"Ok, listen
. If it doesn't work out, I can always move out."

"Well shit
, since you put it like that, let's do it." I laughed.

"For
get you." she said, chuckling. “I’m easy to live with, bitch. I promise, you won’t regret it.” She was cheesing from ear to ear. She seemed so happy that I agreed. "Yaaay, we bouta be roommates!" she said, snaking her body from side to side. "Turn this up, this is my shit." She pressed the volume up.

“Girl
, you know it’s only turn-up music in this car.” I said, vibing to the music with her.

“
I'ma start a riot, I’ma start a riot!” we sang the 2Chainz lyrics as we headed past Blue Hill Avenue toward her house.

I wat
ched as her silly ass danced in her seat, and I hoped that I wouldn't regret agreeing to let her move in with me. As a grown woman, of course I enjoy having my own space, but shit at this point, I was down on hard times, and having someone to help me play catch up for the time being seemed like a good look. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I figured I could use the money from the purse sales to catch up on my rent, and since Dalia would help with the rent going forward, I'd be able to afford to keep my apartment after all. I guess things were working out. Now I just had to keep my life on track.

"That's it, I'm all moved in." An exhausted Dalia said, flopping down on the couch.

Her
shoulder length ponytail was wet from all the sweat. The poor girl had spent the entire day moving her things into the apartment all by herself. I worked her shift
and
mine, so I was unable to help her, and had just gotten home.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Dalia picked herself up to answer the door. She peeked through the peep hole, and then opened the door to let her boyfriend, Stax, in. I didn’t know this nigga, but I was very aggravated to see him arrive
after
she moved everything in already by herself. From what she told me, he knew the date and time that she was moving in, so he had no excuse not to help her out. How the fuck could he allow his girl to move just about all of her clothes and small bedroom items in by herself? I almost felt like he purposely came over when he figured she was done moving, because from what she told me, the nigga doesn’t work, so he had all the time in the world to come through and help his girl move.

She stood on her tippy toes to hug him.

“Hey baby, I’m tired. I just finished moving the last batch of my clothes in here.” She stretched her sore back. “I thought you was supposed to help me move in today? You know my father is still sick, so he couldn’t help.”

“I had shit to do today.”
he said, rolling the blunt he came in with. He smelled like he had just swam in a tub full of weed.

“
Um, you can’t smoke that in here.” I checked him off top. He was not about to make a habit of smoking in my crib, so he needed to know early.

Stax
panned his red eyes at me, and asked Dalia where her bedroom was. “You can’t smoke that in Dalia’s room or in this house, period. Please just respect the rules of this house. There is only one rule, no smoking. It’s simple.”

He smirked at me
, and then nodded at Dalia. “Yo, you ain’t gonna be living here long. I’m gonna have to move you out of this bitch, fast.” He followed Dalia to her room.

“Nice to meet you too.” I
hollered before he shut the door.

I instantly pegged him as a clown. How
the fuck was he gonna tell Dalia he would move her out, when he didn’t even have a job
and
his ass didn’t even help her move today. I knew from the start, I wasn’t gonna like his bum ass. I mean, the nigga came in with his jeans extra baggy like it was still 1999 and had on a wrinkled T-shirt with ENYCE written across the chest. He was a straight bum ass nigga. Did I mention he still had cornrows?

I
shook my head at her closed door, popped open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and filled my glass. I heard him playing music from his phone through the door. I was actually satisfied that Dalia was happy and out of her father’s apartment. She was twenty-three, and this was her first apartment. Her father has diabetes, and her mom died when she was ten, right before she moved to Boston from Atlanta. She’s really close with her dad, and I actually admire their relationship.

Still,
I wondered how this roommate situation was going to play out, since I would also have to deal with her boyfriend’s ass. Despite the fact that her man was wack, after being alone for months, company was probably what I needed. Dalia never really aggravated me too much. She came across as naïve sometimes, but she was cool.

A
s I headed to my bedroom, I heard yelling over the music in Dalia’s room. I stopped to try to make out what they were saying. I heard Dalia saying that she was hurt that he didn’t help her move, and that she was tired of giving him money when all he was doing with it was buying weed. She told him he needed to get a job so that he could start helping her out some time too. Obviously, her comments got to him, because I heard “What bitch!” and then I heard loud commotion.

I placed my glass on the counter and burst inside Dalia’s room
. He had her pinned down on the floor by her neck. She was choking and turning red.

“What the fuck are you doing!
Get off of her, nigga! You gotta go!”

H
e scaled his evil eyes at me and rose up off her. He spit a glob of spit in her face. “IT’S OVER BITCH!”

Dalia
closed her eyes as some of the spit landed inside. She was gasping and holding her neck, trying to catch some air. Once she was able to speak, she cried out, “No baby, don’t leave. I’m sorry, I love you.”

I looked at her like she had ten heads.
“What?” I was in complete disbelief. “He just spit in your face and damn near choked you to death. What you mean, don’t leave? No, that nigga gotta go! Good bye!” I pointed to the door.

He
clenched his teeth at me. “I’m out, bitch. You don’t gotta worry about me coming over here or smoking in this wack ass apartment.”

“
Bitch? Nigga, the only bitch I see in here is the nigga that just put his hands on a girl! Get the fuck outta here, coward ass, lame ass nigga!”

I
forced him to the front door and slammed it, locking all the locks. I retreated back into Dalia’s room to scold her ass. “What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you beg a nigga who just whooped your ass and spit in your face, to stay with you? Are you crazy?”

I’ve never seen Dalia cry so hard
, but she was trying to catch her breath before she spoke. “You don’t understand, he’s all I got. He loves me, he’s just stressed out, that’s all.”