Free My Best Friend and My Man by Cydney Rax Page B

we’ve been through? I mean, what have I done?”
    “You know exactly what. You disrespected me.”
    “If you think I did then all I can say is I won’t ever do that to you again. I promise. Shelly is through, anyway. She was just some crazy girl who begged me to take her to the concert. But I ain’t got time for all that. She’s not my type. And she can’t compare to you, for real though.”
    I thoughtfully chew on my bottom lip. But no, if the girl hadn’t gotten sick on Valentine’s Day, Ferris wouldn’t have called me at all. And that’s unacceptable.
    “I don’t like playing second fiddle to any woman, Ferris.” I spoke clearly and strongly. “I must be number one.”
    He gasps. “That’s the only way I would have it, Veron. You are my number one.”
    “Your number one what?” I ask, feeling a mixture of strength and weakness.
Number one fool? Doormat?
    God knows I’ve found myself in this sickening position countless times before. It’s when you swear on your grandfather’s grave you’ll never, ever speak to a man who’s treated you poorly, yet a few days later your knees wobble the second you hear the man’s sissy-sounding, begging voice. You make up excuse after excuse for his poor behavior, mistakenly believing that one day he’ll shape up, rationalizing he didn’t mean the awful things he said, assuring yourself that he was having a “bad day” instead of recognizing he’s just a bad man.
    “Baby girl, you’re my number one everything,” Ferris says.
    “Hey, Ferris, I gotta go. I refuse to listen to this.” And I hang up in the middle of his repetitious apologies.
             
    A couple hours later Demetria and I are comfortably lounging on my concrete patio in two aqua and white lounge chairs. We’re enjoying a picturesque view of Richmond Ave., one of the busier streets on the southwest side of Houston. Demetria has her legs crossed, chilling out and sipping on an ice-cold strawberry and banana smoothie that I made.
    “Okay, now I wanna slap you,” she fusses.
    “I know, sis. I deserve to be slapped.”
    “If you get tempted to act a fool, just call me.”
    “I’ll remember that next time, Demetria. It’s just that…what do you do when you actually miss that man? It isn’t always easy ignoring his calls. I mean I can do it sometimes, but being strong day in and day out gets hard. But then I thought about it, and I realized he lied to me on Valentine’s Day, and I can’t accept that. So yes, I was tempted for a moment, but I hung up on him.”
    “Well, good, then! Some guys pride themselves on being good liars. I’m glad you’re starting to realize that. Without trust there is no love. And how can you trust him if he never tells the truth?”
    “But what if he lies to spare my feelings?” I ask. “Does that count?”
    “Well, it’s like this. I might BS and tell a female coworker that her hair looks fly even though her style reminds me of Woody Woodpecker, but I doubt the woman will hate my guts for lying. Her pride is at stake. There’s a difference. But when a man lies about proven, undeniable facts, we have problems.”
    “Demetria, let me ask you something. Do you lie to Thaddeus if you’re out with another guy?”
    “Nope.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “So?” She laughs.
    “What do you tell him?”
    “Nothing. When it comes to things like that, I’d rather be silent than tell a lie.”
    “Oh, that’s smart.”
    “Sure it is. You can always say ‘no comment’ if you don’t wanna get into certain details. I mean, it’s hard enough trying to be creative and remembering all the details, lying to cover up more lies, you know what I’m saying?”
    “Do you think Thad is all right with your silence?”
    She squirms in her seat and briefly glances away. “I really don’t know. But if I stay silent on the subject, he knows not to ask anymore. He just has to believe what I do choose to tell him.”
    Just then a horn blows. A yellow