Linger

Shorty came home today (yeah!) and we spent the afternoon watching Guess Who, being us. After the movie I went for a power walk, thankful that I didn't call Carlos about our private going away dinner which he obviously forgot. Once I came home and took a cold shower (damn it's hot outside!), we headed out to meet Marcelle (my friend from Brazil), her non-boyfriend, and other folks for dinner at Sake Cafe. While we were waiting for Marcelle to arrive, G. (the new cost accountant) said, "Oh, there's Carlos!" I rolled my eyes, thinking, "He is like f*cking herpes...he just keeps showing up!"

After we seated ourselves, I excused myself by saying, "I need to go to the bathroom," and immediately called my prayer partner from the ladies room. I told her the situation, including my eye rolling exercise when I saw Carlos making his way to the front door of the restaurant.

"You can do this," she said.

"You're the woman!" she said, " Don't let him get to you! You put your bra on one cup at a time!"

"Actually, I put my bra on both cups at a time," I responded.

She laughed and said, "Wow! You're good! But don't let him get to you...just go in there and be you! It's just for a few more days..."

When I returned to the table, Marcelle had arrived with Marcos (her non-boyfriend) and the seating arrangements had been conveniently changed to sandwich me between Carlos & Shorty. I got through dinner by correcting Shorty's etiquette and cordially dealing with Carlos' requests for condiments.

The group said goodbyes to one another outside the restaurant and I purposely neglected to give G. & Carlos any affection thinking, "Any 25 year old who says, 'Eatin' ain't cheatin'!' and is probably going to naively become Carlos' new bitch doesn't need a hug from me!" Everyone made their way to their cars...except Carlos. Instead, he followed us to my car.

"Alright, Njeri," he hesitantly said.

"Alright, Carlos," I disaffectedly replied.

"Is that your car? I don't know Njeri, I think you might have taken out that pole," he commented.

"Did I?" I uncaringly replied. "No. I just got the cone. It's plastic, so it's no big deal."

"Oh yeah. That's true," he said, lingering next to my door as I slid into the driver's seat.

"I never said I was a good driver," I stated, wishing I had a bottle of blink-be-gone to make him disappear. I knew he was waiting for me to give him a hug, or ask him to come over, or ask him why he didn't call me back the other night, or any other myriad things that would continue the game we've been playing...but I didn't. I just got in the car and drove home.

I know it's up to me to sever the ties that bind us together, and I'm doing everything I can to hold myself together with grace and dignity as I leave this pitiful relationship. By being a mature lady through dinner, I've set a new standard for what our interactions will be in the future: He can linger all he wants, but I'm still moving on without him.