Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Fatima rolled her eyes, then tucked one of her braids behind her ears. She was a beautiful heavyset woman with chocolatey brown skin, long natural jet-black hair, and a tiny button nose. She worked as an attorney at a local law firm, and though she’d been a wonderful friend for over a decade, the woman was more bitter than a lemon dipped in pickle brine. She’d been burned so many times by men, including her two ex-husbands, one of whom had cheated on her with her own sister, she swore she was just going to purchase ten cats and live out the rest of her life in peace.
“Look, this is what’s up, girl. Straight at you with no damn chaser. He’s strong in body and mind. He can handle this. All of this.” She grinned, eliciting more laughter from her friends as she looked at her cleavage and winked. “I don’t mind men with trauma as long as a mothafucka knows how to move accordingly.”
“What does that even mean?” Fatima arched her brow, her expression skeptical. “Move accordingly while fighting one’s demons? That’s a battle these Black men are destined to lose and I use the term ‘men’ loosely. They’re irresponsible. They can’t even fuck right. Damn minute men, or they have a harem and want you to be a part of it. Bringing that community dick to the picnic. Nope. I’m good.” Fatima waved her hand about.
“It’s not all Black men, Fatima. There’s still good men in this world.” India’s lips twisted as if to say, ‘Ewww… you’re a Debbie downer.’
“My statement is actually for all men. It’s just that I’ve had the most experience with Black men. India, you can speak your truth, but this is mine. Azure is dating a well-known journalist who, according to her, has daddy and mommy issues, and supplies plentiful angry sex. Now, that’s cute and all the first few months, but after a while, chile, it’ll get old. He needs therapy.”
“He has a therapist, and you need one too,” Azure retorted. Fatima gasped, clutching her invisible pearls. “Don’t look like that. Anyone who’s been stepped on emotionally needs to be on somebody’s damn couch. You are jaded because you picked mothafuckas that weren’t worth a damn, over and over. It wasn’t one or two; it was more like eight or nine. There comes a point in time, Fatima, when you have to look in the mirror. I’m not saying any of them were worth a damn because I know personally they weren’t, but when I tried to tell you to leave Todd, Anthony, Darnell and Tracey alone, what did you do?”
Fatima bumped her gums, then burst out laughing.
“Exactly. You basically told me politely to mind my business and go fuck myself. I put my hands up and said, ‘If you like it, I love it.’ I learned a valuable lesson. Some women just want to bitch and complain about their man but not do shit about it, so I moved accordingly. I stopped giving my opinion. I stopped tryna save women, even my close friends like you, that don’t want to be saved.”
“Hold up now! When did this become about me, Azure? Why you gotta get so nasty?”
“I’m not being nasty, and it became about you when you projected your experiences on to me and my current relationship. You don’t know Caspian from a can of paint. If you did know him, your opinion would hold water because though I don’t allow anyone to dictate who I date and fuck, I will let a loyal friend have room on the floor to speak. Everyone who genuinely loves me deserves to have a voice. I sat here and listened to you talk about this and that—your right—but now it’s my turn.”
“Well, speak then!”
Fatima rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Azure could tell that her friend’s feelings were hurt. Yet, she had to keep going…
“You’ve known me long enough to understand I mean no harm, but I don’t tap dance around shit. If the truth is ugly, it just is. If it’s pretty, throw a flower in that bitch’s hair and call it a day. Fatima, you are someone who tries to fix broken people and treat them like one of your court cases. That’s not how this works. There is no jury or judge to give a final verdict on our relationships, baby. Nobody gets out of this life without trauma. That’s my point.” We all have cornfields to travel. “I respect my boyfriend because he earned it. He’s a respectable human being. He’s responsible and takes accountability for who and what he is, as well as the shit that has happened to him, even the things he allowed or caused to happen. I love to hear him speak because he is so self-aware.” From silence. He was able to just sit back and watch. Learn. “That’s sexy to me.”