Mercy

by Renee Williams

  MErcy

  Renee Williams

  Peter Pan

  Kelsea Ballerini

  For one second, I thought I was going to faint. Like a real damn faint. I felt queasy. Sick to my stomach.

  I started seeing black spots before my eyes, and I had to take a deep breath.

  Do not pass out.

  He had set up this little scene. He knew I would come this morning. I came to see him every morning before my class. He wanted to make sure that I knew it was over. Make sure that I understood that he had moved on with a girl that looked nothing like me.

  Black.

  He had known that I was already nervous about dating a white boy. He had convinced me that he was sincere. Pursued me until I finally gave in to him. I wanted to believe him. I had swallowed his lies hook line and sinker.

  It had all been a lie. He had never wanted me.

  I was hearing him loud and clear. Shit, he all but told me to get the fuck out his life. He was trying to make a statement.

  He didn’t have to make this loud of a statement. He could have just said the words.

  I don’t love you.

  I don’t want to be with you.

  I was never comfortable dating a black girl.

  Fuck you, Ava.

  Anything.

  Any of those phrases would have worked. He could have just told me that he couldn’t date me. Whatever he needed to say to make me go away.

  This situation was just so messed up.

  There were no words.

  He didn’t want to just break my heart. He wanted to rip it out my chest. He wanted me to understand that it was over and leave him the hell alone.

  He was right. This breakup was much better. I would have tried to fight for him if he had just tried to talk to me, so instead of telling me he decided I needed to see.

  I guess people were right when they said that I could show you better than I could tell you. I was finally seeing it; it was crystal clear.

  Ryan’s face stared back at me without an ounce of shame. No remorse. His wavy dark brown hair was cut shorter than it had been when I first met him eight months ago. I stared at his naked frame knowing that if he stood up that he would tower over me at six feet three inches tall. My five-foot seven-inch frame always felt thwarted by his height. It was also one of the reasons that I found him so attractive. There was no feeling like being surrounded by someone that made you feel loved and protected when you were in their arms.

  Even if that comfort had been a damn lie.

  My brown eyes locked on his blue ones. His expression was blank as if he didn’t know that he was ripping me apart. My pain meant absolutely nothing to him.

  He made no effort to acknowledge my presence.

  Asshole.

  I remembered when those same eyes used to pull me in and seduce me with just one look. Now, they gazed back at me without any passion.

  His dimples where nowhere to be seen. All the warmth that used to welcome me had disappeared.

  Had any of it ever been real?

  Pain ripped into the pit of my stomach. My throat felt raw and scratchy like a scream was going to rip through at any second.

  I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes.

  I forced myself to go numb. I couldn’t fall apart. I grabbed every bit of my strength and took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “You don’t get to change your mind.”

  I refused to wipe away the tears that fell from my eyes. He needed to see that he was destroying me. That he was destroying us. He didn’t have the right to walk away believing and thinking that I was fine and that everything was alright.

  He wouldn’t get a free pass from seeing my pain. I was pissed at him. I could feel the anger in the pit of my stomach. It was seeping like a caldron bubbling to the surface. At any minute, I was going to fucking blow.

  I chose to ignore the random female in the room.

  In his bed.

  She was Miss Irrelevant like the last person drafted in the National Football League.

  She didn’t have anything to do with what was going on between Ryan and I. But, I felt her eyes glaring at me.

  Too damn bad. I didn’t give a shit about her, and neither did he.

  I swiped the tears away from my face. “I won’t wait for you. You don’t get to ever come back and say that you matured. You don’t have the right to one day come back and say that you screwed up. That you miss me. To apologize and act like you hadn’t royally fucked me over. You can never have me back.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was breaking apart shattering into smaller pieces of myself. And if his face was any indication, he didn’t give a damn.

  Dial it back, Ava. He was not deserving of my heart.

  I wanted to scream more hateful words at him, but I couldn’t. All the words felt like they were being ripped from my throat. They were coming out in a strong whisper. Was there really any such thing as a strong whisper?

  I had no idea what the girl next to him was thinking. I never once looked at her. Was she thinking that she had somehow won the lottery? Did she think that she had hit the jackpot?

  Did she feel any pleasure in watching me, the black girl, cry like a fucking fool in front of her over the white boy that was looking at me like he had never met me? Or, that he had never touched me. Or, that he had never caressed me all night? Or that we hadn’t said that we loved one another? Or, that I was having his baby.

  Right. He didn’t give a fuck about the baby I carried either.

  The baby that I told him about yesterday. I guessed white guys had something in common with black boys after all. I guessed they all ran at the first sign of unwanted pregnancies.

  Stupid me. All dicks were the same.

  I hoped for this chick’s sake that she wasn’t feeling smug because she wasn’t the one. Hell, I wasn’t even the one, and I was having his child.

  My throat felt clogged. I was having a baby.

  Alone.

  What had I been thinking dating this dude?

  I should have never dated him. I knew better. I was the experimental black girl for him. I was his black rebellion. He had never dated a black girl, but I hadn’t thought it was a big deal. He seemed like he was really into me. Stupid me for underestimating how strong his racial identity was to him.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let another tear drop. Fuck him.

  He had moved on to a white girl that was more acceptable than me. I got it. Dating me wasn’t easy. He had to contend with friends wondering what he saw in me. Obviously, nothing.

  The joke was on me.

  I was simply the black girl that he decided to try out and take for a test drive to see if he wanted to buy it. Kick the wheels to see if it was sturdy.

  I didn’t know how many minutes went by with us looking at one another. I don’t know why I was waiting on him to say something, anything to me. I somehow felt that I deserved an explanation. After months, didn’t I deserve a reasonable explanation as to why he was leaving me to carry me through the years of not being with him?

  Didn’t I deserve to know why he was leaving his future child behind? I thought I was at least owed an explanation for why everything had fallen apart.

  “I won’t.”

  That was all he said looking me in the eyes to let me know that he was serious.

  What the fuck had I even said to him? Oh, yeah, you don’t get to ever have me back.

  Right. He agreed. He would never want me again or his baby. Just thinking about raising a baby all by myself made me want to break down all over again. I was going to be a single parent.

  Another black walking statistic.

  Fine.

  I got it.

  I didn’t know why I was throwing out all of these statements. He didn’t g
ive a shit about me or what I was saying.

  “Don’t because I promise that I won’t let you back in.” I looked down at my stomach so that he would understand the other part of my statement.

  He knew that I was pregnant. We had talked about it yesterday. He didn’t want a baby. He was too young. He had dreams for his life. Like I hadn’t had those dreams too.

  Asshole.

  Selfish prick.

  My heart beat erratically thinking about having to raise a baby on my own. I wasn’t finished with college. I would have to go crawling home to my parents. They expected me to go to college and get a degree, not come home with a baby by some white boy that had left me.

  I had screwed up royally.

  I continued to look him in the eye frustrated that he refused to have any type of real discussion with me. How could you fight with someone that refused to fight back?

  I wouldn’t cause an even bigger scene than the one that I was causing now. It was fine. I was fine. My baby and I would be fine.

  Bastard.

  I wanted to slap the hell out of him. Step on his fucking balls.

  “I won’t ever contact you again.” I stated letting him know that this was it. When I walked away, I was going to walk away for good. He would never see me or his child again. I wouldn’t force him to be in our lives. I wouldn’t make him or me miserable by subjecting him to me and the baby’s presence.

  I didn’t need him. I had wanted him. Yes, in my mind there was a vast difference. I had wanted him, not what he could offer me later in life. Not what he would one day be. I wanted who he was at this moment. The love of my life. The father of my child.

  The boy that could make me laugh with his silly jokes. The boy that caused my heart to beat fast just because he walked into the room. The boy that knew how to hold me when we binged watched movies in his dorm room. Not this boy. Not this boy with the hard eyes that hurt me with his words. Not this boy who had a girl laying in the spot that used to be mine.

  He nodded his head acknowledging that he understood me when I said that he would never hear from me again. He was okay with it. He was okay with losing me. Okay with never meeting his own child.

  I wanted to lash out at him. I wanted to say more. I wanted to say something that would penetrate his brain. I wanted to use my words like a whip. I wanted them to rip the hard shell that surrounded his heart. I wanted to hurt him like he was hurting me.

  I wanted to be all the things that they said black women were. I wanted to be loud, obnoxious, throw fits, beat the shit out this chick, and beat his ass.

  I didn’t do any of it no matter how much I had to restrain myself.

  I wanted to beg him. Beg him to stay with me. To stay with us. I wanted to beg him to love me like I loved him.

  I wanted to make him want me. To want us.

  He didn’t.

  He said he wouldn’t.

  The idiot girl just laid next to him watching our exchange like it was a fuckin tennis match. Probably wondering how he even got mixed up with some black chick his freshman year of college.

  Wiping the tears from my eyes, I took that one last look that everyone takes when they know it’s over. The look that speaks volumes without speaking actual words. The eyes that remember small kisses, light touches, and happy nights, but I couldn’t unsee what I just saw.

  Closing my eyes, I took the one step that took me away from him, knowing it would be forever because he didn’t deserve my love, but knowing he had it anyway.

  I carried with me the heartache of knowing that he didn’t even want my love. That he never actually wanted it.

  I wouldn’t say goodbye. Those words didn’t need to be said. He knew when he set up this scene that this would be goodbye.

  My heart was a shattered piece of glass laying at the altar of his feet, and he didn’t give two damns about it.

  Turning around, I quietly shut the door.

  I could hear his new girl talking before I closed the door behind me.

  “What just happened?” she whispered as if I couldn’t hear her silly ass.

  “Nothing, she just couldn’t take that I didn’t want her anymore. She didn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

  I knew how to take no for an answer. I knew how to walk away even when my heart wouldn’t be going with me.

  Right Girl Wrong Time

  Jon Langston

  I was an asshole. I knew it. I was fucking up, but I was unable to stop myself.

  I loved her, but I wasn’t ready. Being in a relationship with her was complicated. I wanted her, but it was so much that came along with her.

  The complication of loving someone else from another race wasn’t easy. Ava thought it was just a matter of being with someone you loved, but it wasn’t.

  I didn’t know anyone in my family that had dated someone from a different race. Hell, my whole damn high school was only five percent black. I was the typical white male that had black acquaintances. I played sports with black athletes. We even went to various events together, but I had never gone to any of their houses. They hadn’t come to mine either. We didn’t just hang out without a purpose. So, to fall in love with a black girl was surprising to me. But, I fell for her the moment I first met her.

  She had been gorgeous and innocent. I was her first, and I still treasured that she trusted me enough to let me be her first.

  I wanted to pull my hair in frustration.

  Shit.

  I didn’t know what the hell to do.

  But, I didn’t know how to tell my parents about her. No, I didn’t think that they were racist, but for some reason it felt uncomfortable bringing Ava around my family.

  I didn’t know how they would receive her, and I was too nervous to take the risk of being with her. Then, yesterday when she told me about the baby, it had pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t be a father.

  My life was not equipped for a baby. I didn’t have a job, and my parents were paying for my college. I couldn’t go to them and tell them that I was dating a black girl and that she was pregnant with my baby.

  I was sure I looked like an asshole to her. Hell, I was an asshole. But, I wasn’t going to go after her. I was letting her go.

  Fuck. I wanted to slam my fist into a damn wall. It was all a damn mess. I was a damn mess.

  “So, what are we doing tonight?” Stacy asked easing closer into my body.

  I glanced over at her in disgust. How stupid could she be? Was she really that hard-up for dick? She just witnessed Ava crying her eyes out and calling me an asshole, and she still wanted to be with me.

  “Get out,” I said tiredly.

  I didn’t have the energy to play games with her.

  I had just fucked up my life, and I knew it. I was letting the woman I loved and my baby walk out my life forever. I didn’t have the tolerance to deal with her a second more.

  “Excuse me.”

  This chick was dense. Did she really think that I would choose her over Ava? She had nothing on Ava.

  Ava Sinclair was beautiful inside and out. Stacy was a complete idiot. Stacy was shallow and self-centered. Everything that I hated in a female.

  Yet, I had fucked her.

  I stood up from the bed feeling sick about what I had done to Ava. I wanted to throw up. I had actually slept with Stacy last night.

  How low could I sink?

  I had made myself sleep with her. I needed her to stay in my room overnight. Ava had needed to see me with another girl. Now, I just felt disgusted with myself. I was pissed with Stacy, and she hadn’t done anything to me.

  I was genuinely the asshole that Ava had called me.

  “Fuck you, Ryan,” Stacy screamed, jumping up from the bed and gathering her clothes.

  “Pretty sure that’s what I just did.”

  I had fucked up me and Ava forever. There would be no recovering from my stupidity. No going back for us. No forgiveness. I didn’t even deserve it.

  No getting the girl back. When I had plann
ed this charade, I had wanted to do something big. Something that I knew Ava would never be able to forgive because if she could forgive me, I would have gone running back.

  Ava had been the right girl for me, and I had let her walk away with my child. I would have to learn how to live without both of them.

  You could always go back and get her.

  I could go back to her and beg her to forgive me. I could run out of the fucking room and get on my knees and ask her to take me back. But, I wouldn’t.

  I had nothing to offer her. I didn’t see a place in my life for her.

  “Fuck,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  It didn’t matter how hard it was going to be for me. I had to suck it up. When I concocted this little stunt, I knew I was ruining my life forever. Now, I would have to live in the bed that I made for the rest of my life.

  Every Little Thing

  Carly Pearce

  7 years later

  I squinted my eyes toward the car. Who was that? I did not know anyone that drove a car that looked like that.

  When the car stopped in front of my soon- to-be old house, I squinted trying to look through the expensive car window.

  The windows were tinted, and I couldn’t see a damn thing. My neighborhood was middle class at best. Nobody and I do mean nobody could afford a car like the one that I was seeing in my front yard.

  I stood still waiting for the person to exit the car. When he stepped out of the car, I felt rooted to the ground.

  My heart was beating too fast. It was not possible, but my heart leapt into my throat. He was so familiar that I felt my hands getting sweaty.

  I was being ridiculous.

  I had to be wrong. There was no possible reason for him to be at my house.

  But, it was him.

  His hair was shorter than it was before. I couldn’t see his eyes for the shades that were covering his face. Probably some expensive ass shades that I couldn’t afford on my teacher’s salary.

  It was really him. My heart gave another hard thump.

  He walked toward me cataloging every aspect of my body. In comparison to the models and actresses he was used to seeing, I was sure I was sadly lacking. My body had matured with the birth of my daughter Mercy. Instead of my size eight frame from college, I was now a size ten. I was nowhere near model thin. I was black girl fine. Black men would love my body, but the world would probably find me lacking.