Dishonorably Discharged: A Love Story

  ***

  “Are you serious!” Rashon laughed as he threw his hands up. I needed to talk to someone and I trusted him enough to talk to him. I promised him dinner on me if he met up. We met at a Starbucks halfway between both of us.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly how it went down,” I said. “I just turned and there he was. I’m so lucky nothing happened. Tricia doesn’t even know what happened yet.”

  “She’s going to flip out,” Rashon said. “What are you getting?” he asked as he turned his attention to the counter.

  “I’m going to get a decaf green tea,” I answered on autopilot.

  “Nah, you got to try that raspberry iced tea,” Rashon corrected. He was dressed up in a brown jacket with a white button down and dark jeans. As usual, he was on the prowl.

  “What are you getting?” I asked back.

  “Since you’re buying, I’m about to get that Turkey Panini,” he said with a big Kool-Aid smile.

  “By the way, this doesn’t count as our second date,” I said. “Just in case you’re counting.”

  “Aight, aight, cool,” he said. “Don’t be so crazy about it. Now back to the dilemma. What are you going to do?”

  “I think it’s best if I don’t say anything. As a man, what is your honest opinion? Would you want to know if you were Justin?” I asked.

  “Want to know everything? Nah, but you can at least tell him about the other guy. At least make it less sneaky.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say that’s all I got. I sighed.

  “What he doesn’t know cannot hurt him, right?” I said.

  “If you say so.” He got up to order his sandwich and our drinks. “I’m craving that turkey.”

  A minute later, Rashon rejoined me. “You gotta tell him if you think it’s going to come up. Is he a jealous type of guy?”

  “No,” I answered. “He’s pretty laid back. I’m just afraid of triggering anything. You know, the PTSD and all…” Rashon made a concerned face as he responded.

  “Totally forgot about that.” He thought for a moment. “I still think you should tell him. Just tell him there’s a guy you met when you separated that might call you and he shouldn’t be threatened about it.”

  I thought about it. It made sense but it was still risky. Rashon continued. “And you should tell him that man is me.” I laughed at his nerdy sense of humor.

  “You’re stupid,” I said back. “Here is the part you don’t know. There is another girl somewhere on the side.”

  His eyes lit up. “Another girl? Kate, I didn’t know you were in to that. Do tell more.” I slapped him on the forearm.

  “No! Not like that. When we separated, he had a girl on the side. So it goes both ways.”

  “And how did you find out about it?” he asked.

  “Group text. He claims he didn’t bang her though. She just went down on him. He claims.”

  Rashon’s big bushy eyebrows arched up. “I don’t know. That sounds suspicious to be honest. But if he’s going to tell you that happened, then why wouldn’t he tell you he went all the way?”

  I took it in. “You’re right. He’s probably telling the truth. But still, no woman wants to hear that.” This was the real conversation I needed to have.

  “How did he meet this girl?” Rashon asked.

  “Through one of his buddies. What do you think about that?” I said.

  “Sounds like a layup.” he said dismissively.

  “Layup? What’s that? I’m not privy to this slang,” I said.

  Rashon corrected me. “You’re not privy to brothers.”

  I snapped back. “Here we go. Would it make you happy if I threw the box at the next brother I see?”

  He chuckled. “I’m the only one here. I won’t judge you.”

  For a moment, he actually had a little swagger.

  He flashed a big knowing smile. “You know I’m right. Someone’s got to bring you back to the dark side. Anyways, back to the point. A layup is a girl you don’t have to work for. If his boys put him on the girl then it’s almost offensive if he doesn’t take the layup. It’s an unwritten guy code.”

  I didn’t want to hear more. “Get our drinks,” I told him. I went to the counter with him to pay as he grabbed the drinks and sandwich. We sat back at the table.

  “What’s new in your world? Still single, I’m guessing?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said bluntly.

  “What do you mean by that?” I snapped back.

  “It’s hard out here for the brothers. You wouldn’t understand.”

  I smirked at the comment. “Oh really? Do tell.”

  He began on what felt like a softly rehearsed tirade on his dating experience.

  “First of all, it’s hard enough being a single man in this society. With all the gender roles reversed and crap, you have a lot of women that don’t even want a man. And don’t get me started on the ones that don’t want to date the brothers. Combine all of that into a cocktail of desperation and that’s basically my life.”

  For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.

  “Look at you.” I said. “The problem is you’re looking for someone. You can’t let people set you up, especially people like Tricia because they don’t know any better. When you’re least expecting it, you’ll find someone.”

  The comment visibly disturbed him.

  “You know who else told me that? My mother, when I was 12. I’m 27 now and have never had anything serious in the relationship department. Meanwhile, all my buddies have married their college sweethearts and are having children. But it’s whatever. You’re probably right.”

  I actually felt sorry for him after hearing that.

  “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just mean, well, you’re a nice guy. Look at you dressed all up. You mean to tell me you’ve never had any serious girlfriends? I don’t believe that.”

  He laughed. “You never know when Halle Berry is going to show up. I stay fly so I don’t have to get fly. But to answer your question, there is one girl. I don’t have time to tell you the whole story but I’ll give you the cliff notes. I met her in college but I was horribly under-socialized because I was a blerd.”

  I stopped him. “Blerd?” I asked.

  “Black nerd. Like Childish Gambino,” he replied, to which I gave him the I dunno look.

  “Steve Urkel. But before he realized he could be Stephon.” I nodded as I got the reference.

  He continued.

  “Anyways, my homies knew I liked her and they would literally call her my girl. She was beautiful too. Tall, light skin, long black hair, nice smile, pleasant attitude, everything I was looking for. So they set me up with her and I just blew it. I effing blew it.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “You have to elaborate.” I said.

  “Well my homie sets the meeting up or whatever and we are sitting at the table, me and her. She’s 12 inches away from my face and I can’t say anything. My body literally could not make sound. I just froze up thinking about not messing it up. Then she gave me her number, I guess out of pity, and I never called because I thought she was out of my league.”

  I nodded as I followed the story. I offered a word of encouragement. “That’s understandable. That happens all the time with shy guys…”

  He stopped me. “Oh no, Kate. There is more. The story gets worse. So it happens a year later, again. It’s the same exact scenario with the same girl. My homie sets it up and I freeze up and blow it, AGAIN. And she gives me her number and I don’t call. Again.”

  I cringed. “Ouch.”

  He went on. “Ouch indeed. And it gets even more awkward. That haunts me every day for years until I finally get the nerve to holler at her again… via Facebook.”

  I cringed even harder. “And she didn’t reply?”

  He shook his head in disappointment. “Of course not. But now you know more about me and why I’m so awkward.”

  I grabbed him by the hand. His touch was w
arm and gentle. “Listen Rashon, you are a really good guy. You are going to make someone really happy one day. Don’t beat yourself up about the past. There’s nothing you can do about it. If she was smart, she would have snatched you up by now. If it’s going to happen, you have to let the universe work. You’ll find what you’re looking for. Don’t sweat it.”

  “So what’s the next move for you?” Rashon asked as he devoured what was left of his Panini.

  I clasped my head in my hands. “We are supposed to be moving in together soon.”

  “When?”

  “Soon,” I said.

  “How soon is soon?” he asked.

  “Weeks, days,” I said. “I just hope no drama happens. I probably need to change my phone number while I’m thinking about it.”

  “My honest advice is that you put everything on the table before you move in together. He sounds like a stand up guy. Just tell him and let him deal with it. If you think anything is going to trigger, then try to do it in public,” he said as he washed down the Panini with his iced tea. It was great insight into a man’s mind but my mind was made up.

  I was going to take my chances and not say anything.

  10

  Two weeks later, almost 8 months to the exact day we separated, Justin and I moved back in together. Justin hauled in his things in two cardboard boxes. I reluctantly agreed to let him move in my new apartment since the lease was already signed. He hadn’t had any episodes and everything was fine according to therapy. It was time to get our lives back on track.

  “Do you need help with anything?” I asked as he brought in the second large brown box.

  “That’s everything,” he responded.

  “That’s two boxes. All your stuff fit in those two boxes?” I asked.

  “Of course. I’m a man. We don’t carry baggage everywhere,” he said as he sat down on one of the boxes holding his belongings. He was taking it in. The look on his face said it all. It was finally over.

  “Kate?” he asked.

  “What?” I replied.

  “I just realized, you have like no furniture.”

  It was true. All I had was one couch, the small round dining table, my bed, and a dresser.

  “Well this place is pretty small,” I said to my defense. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “You know I’m not drinking right now,” he said.

  “We need to celebrate. Take a load off,” I encouraged. I got two glasses and poured some Ciroc for us. I handed Justin a glass and sat on the floor next to his boxes.

  “No TV?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I replied. “No time.”

  He looked at me as if I had three heads. “So what do you do to pass time?”

  I confessed. “Facebook, or talk to my friends. I never watched a lot of TV, you know that.”

  “So we need to get a TV,” he said with his hand on his chin.

  “We don’t really need a TV. Why can’t you live without TV?” I asked.

  “I need to watch the news,” he responded in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Well for now, we can entertain each other.” I said.

  “Doing what?” He smiled.

  I grinned. “I don’t know but I’m sure we can find something.”

  He slid off the box and joined me on the floor. A devilish grin was on his face. He grabbed me without saying a word.

  Without saying a word, Justin pulled me into an embrace. We fell against the boxes stacked around us and impatiently pushed them away. Though the unheated apartment was chilly, once his hands started roaming under my sweater and cupped my breasts, warmth quickly transformed into slowly simmering heat.

  “No bra … again?” Justin asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  I grinned innocently. “They were all in the laundry. You know how that goes.”

  His hands trailed toward my jeans and unzipped them, his questing fingers soon discovering my naked ass. He clucked at me with mock disapproval.

  “And your panties are all in the laundry as well, I suppose?”

  “Who needs panties when I’m not going be wearing them in a moment?” I said, pushing him onto his back. Unzipping his jeans, his stiff member eagerly sprang into my hands.

  Justin closed his eyes, then jerked and moaned as I trailed my hands down the quivering length of his member and caressed his taut extremities. I loved the feel of his warm flesh against my fingers and the way it responded to my touch. Justin was huge, a good eight inches, but there were times when he became so aroused his pole swelled even larger and would really stretch me.

  Guiding his pole into my hot mouth, I trailed my tongue around the glans and gently lapped at a pearly bead of his juice, which tasted both sweet and salty. Justin shivered and muttered obscenities under his breath, his body tensing. When I abruptly swallowed him down to his manhood, he cried out and clawed at the carpet.

  The room became unbearably hot, and I felt a sheen of sweat erupt on my body. We paused the action long enough to strip out of our clothes. My sticky juice oozed from my hole and trailed down my thighs, and I ached to feel Justin slide inside me.

  Kneeling between his legs, I began to slowly lick and suck his shaft, my head rising and falling like a piston. I felt his distended veins in my mouth, his extremities tightening in my hand until they felt like the knobby texture of an orange skin.

  Brushing damp strands of hair from my face, I pulled him from my mouth and squeezed his member between my breasts. Justin groaned from the unexpected switch, but the ecstatic expression on his face as I buried his meat deep into my cleavage was worth it. I could tell by the way his extremities were tightening that he was about to explode all over me, so I quickly rose and straddled him.

  My box was so swollen and sensitized I gasped from the contact of his shaft as it slipped into my juicy hole. Justin and I both moaned as he thrust deep and hard. Clasping hands, we rocked in frantic rhythm for only a few moments before we simultaneously came, our spasms merging into a primal cry.

  Drained, I collapsed into his arms, our hearts beating together as one.