Dishonorably Discharged: A Love Story Page 3

  ***

  The next few weeks were mundane. There were no dates, no late night conversations with Justin, just work. And work, and work, and work, and work. I threw everything I had into the office to keep my mind off my husband. I got one, two, then three months ahead on my reports. I reorganized my desk a dozen times. I started coming in early and leaving late. Anything that would fill time, I did.

  I knew that if I had any sort of free time, the natural instinct would be to see Justin. What was he doing? How was he living? Was he working yet? Did he trim that beard yet? How does he look with a full beard? How was he wearing his hair now? Every secondary thought of every moment consisted of him yet I repressed it with work.

  My girlfriends knew the drill. They tried their best to get me off him. Tricia, my bestie since high school, was now living about an hour away and working as a buyer for a clothing store. I always knew if I needed her, I could call but there was never enough time since I had let work overtake my life.

  “Girl, all that working isn’t healthy,” Tricia blared to me over the speakers of my cell phone. She was doing her job as a best friend and trying to look out. The funny thing is, a big girl like Patricia was telling me what was and wasn’t healthy. “I’m healthy. I’m more than healthy,” she boasted. For a big girl, she had the confidence to match. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine I’m talking to the actress Mo’Nique.

  “You know what girl? Put all that work to the side and come out with us tonight. Me and some of my people are going out. Come hang out with us.” She was right. I needed to decompress. It was nine weeks of evading Justin on Facebook and another four of working nonstop. I was running on emotional fumes.

  “Ok. I’m coming down. Just text me the address.” Two hours later, I was in the car and meeting Tricia and some of her work buddies at a waterfront lounge. Patricia knew how to be the center of attention while keeping everyone in a good mood. She was always the master of ceremonies. Tricia’s friend from work, her friend’s date, and I rounded out the group. After about an hour or so of live music, we decided to hit a restaurant a few blocks down.

  Tricia’s friend and her date walked in front while we lagged behind. Tricia pulled me close to her. She didn’t want them to hear what she was about to tell me.

  “Girl… he’s a good man. He owns a limo and he’s got no kids.”

  That’s when it hit me. Trici’s friends weren’t dating. The girls were playing matchmaker. This was a sneak attack!

  I really wasn’t up for meeting anyone. Besides, he was not my type. I have nothing against the brothers. I just preferred what I preferred and I was at the age where I no longer wanted to deviate from the look I personally liked. Tricia should have known me better than this by now.

  We ended up at a quiet little steak house on a corner block. The girls worked in unison to set it up so we sat at a secluded round table with me directly next to their male friend.

  “So Rashon, I hear that you’re single,” Tricia started. “And you own your own limo, right?”

  He sat up straight as if he was being called on in a game show. He wasn’t ugly but he wasn’t my type and clearly too nervous to get his own dates. “Yeah,” he replied. Tricia and her friend smiled at me. I wasn’t amused but I didn’t want to crush their friend’s expectations.

  “So you’re single, right?” Tricia’s friend asked him. “Yeah.” He smiled at me. His desperation was cute in a 5th grade way. As an adult, I was offended they would set me up with such a socially awkward person. On what planet did I ask for this? When did I tell Patricia I was looking for a date?

  Whatever. I went along with it anyway. Patricia would get the brunt of my frustration privately. A few minutes in, they had a genius idea. “You two can talk privately. We’ll wait at the bar,” Tricia said. Great, I thought, Now, I have to share a meal with this guy. Let’s get it over with.

  It wasn’t that bad. He was a nice guy. He was too nice. He had no edge, no spark, no humor like Justin. Rashon was a shy, sheltered guy who would make some woman really happy one day. That woman was not going to be me.

  We sat for about twenty minutes, talking mostly about family and work. Rashon had actually gone to high school with my first cousin, and used to work in the same building as my mother at a different company. They both would later confirm they had seen Rashon around but only directly interacted with him once or twice, which only proved my theory on him. He was a nice guy, but in a family way.

  “We should get Tricia,” I said as our conversation dwindled. Tricia wasn’t going to come save her girl. She thought I was enjoying this sneak attack because I hadn’t cut or screamed on the poor guy.

  Rashon agreed and let me excuse myself to get the rest of our party. We rejoined him at the round table to exchange goodbyes. “Wait! You two should exchange numbers!” Tricia yelled. Great.

  “You don’t even know my situation. What if I was married, or had kids?” I asked.

  “You have to be good people if you know them,” he quickly answered.

  Great. I couldn’t let the little guy down easy. I unwillingly gave him my number and walked quickly to my car without saying goodbye to Tricia or her friend.

  She texted me as I drove home. I let her have it.

  “He’s practically part of my family. He went to school with my cousin and worked with my mother.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to sneak attack me?”

  “Just because I was polite doesn’t mean I liked him.”

  “I just went along with I because he was in my face and I didn’t want to disrespect you or your friends.”

  “There will be no second date. I’m not going to call him.”

  “It’s okay. I owe you one.”

  Tricia is a great friend and all, but she didn’t know what I was really going through. I didn’t have a man in my life at the time because there was already a man in that spot, a man whose spot never got taken. My husband.

  3

  The whole issue gave me the inspiration I needed to move forward in my love life. If I wasn’t going to make decisions and follow my heart, people around me proved they were ready to make those decisions for me. Rashon is a nice guy and all, but I could never see myself with someone like that. He didn’t do it for me. I liked a type and I already had it. It was time to reconnect with my husband.

  I had no idea what Justin had been up to in the four months since the incident and my thoughts ran wild. Was he still couch surfing? What buddy was he staying with? Was it a female? Was he moving on? Where was he working? What was he doing with that beard?!

  At work, things just got miserable. As much as I tried to stay ahead, work kept coming to replace what I already cleared off the table. Being a professional tax preparer, you expect businesses to wait until the last minute to file taxes but this was too much. I was finding more and more work as fast as I could look for it. This was not healthy.

  Rashon texted me a few times. I guess he didn’t get the hint. I made the mistake of replying to his first text, which gave him a false green light into my inbox. How many unanswered “Good Morning” tweets can a guy send before he gives up?

  One afternoon after work, I had enough and decided to text Tricia to end it.

  “Tell your boy Rashon to move on. I’m not interested.”

  “Yes, I responded to one text. That doesn’t mean I was interested.”

  “I didn’t respond to any others.”

  “He’s a nice guy but he isn’t for me. Introduce him to someone else.”

  Tricia campaigned for Rashon but eventually she got it. This is why you don’t let your friends run your love life.

  I had some campaigning to do of my own. I had to figure out what Justin was up to and decide a plan of attack to get him back without looking crazy to my friends and family. Everyone had their own opinion but forget them. This was my life and I was going to do what I wanted.

  There was one easy way to catch up on his life. You guessed it. Face
book. With a bottle of wine, a night with nothing to do, and the new Elle Varner CD, I felt like nothing could stop me. I was about to crack this case like Murder, She Wrote.

  That night I logged in with my mind on a mission: figure out what the heck Justin’s been up to and if there are any new chicks I’d have to regulate. I surfed around his page intently, checking every wall post four months deep just in case. Anything that was a little too personal, more than a friendly “Hi!” deserved a deeper search. I checked page after page, males and females, to get the scoop on Justin’s new life.

  It took roughly four hours of spider webbing through photo albums, posts, and wall posts to determine there was nothing to worry about. Justin was clean. Apparently he got a job at a local restaurant as a short order cook and was staying with one of his Marine buddies. There were new females, no new relationships, just a bunch of pictures of him and his former Military buddies. I could calm down.

  Up next was a plan of action. Should I just pop up at his job? Should I send him a message? Should I call him? How do I not look desperate? All of those questions needed answers. I deeply thought about the repercussions of each choice. In the end, popping up at his job made the most sense. I quickly Googled the address and called it a night.