When Love Hurts

Acknowledgments

I first and foremost Thank God for everything in my life and all of my accomplishments.

For my family and friends who supported my writing all my life. Thank you to everyone that encouraged me while writing When Love Hurts.
 

Thank you Derek Murphy from Creativindi Covers who designed my cover image. I know it must have taken a lot of time and effort.

Thank you Chris Moss for helping me create a working routine and a timeline to get my work done.

Also, I want to thank Joanna Penn from
http://www.thecreativepenn.com
for helping me every step of the way through your fantastic writer’s blog.

PART ONE

Jessica

I know Chris is cheating on me—I just can’t prove it. It’s after midnight, and I’m staring out our bedroom window, but he hasn’t pulled up yet. I sigh and sit back down on the bed.
 

Chris and I met two years ago at the University of Chicago, and while I was a freshman, he was a dropout student on campus visiting friends. He stopped me one day when I was on my way to English, and his face was smiling. His eyes were shining with determination, and we small-talked about a few things. Before we parted he invited me to dinner. We started dating, and about three months later I had moved into his apartment with him. I think the worst choice I made, however, was dropping out of school a few months after that.
 

I clench the sheets beneath my hands and fight back a few weak tears.
 

I admit that at the time dropping out seemed like a good idea. I wanted to start my own photography business, and Chris thought it deserved 100 percent of my time. He talked me into buying expensive cameras and taking shots of scenery until I got enough proofs and people who’d take a chance on me. What he didn’t tell me was how to be a good marketer, and without marketing nobody would know my business existed or cared whether or not I was broke.
 

I’m staying with Chris, but there’s nothing I can really call my own here. I tried six months looking for a job but couldn’t find one. Chris told me not to worry and that he’d take care of me, and I believed him. I wanted to believe him, but part of me figured he should have to take care of me since he convinced me to drop out of school on false hope in the first place. Maybe it was just the anger talking, because I know I shouldn’t think like that. I know deep down he was trying to help me out, and I had made the final decision. Not him.

My eyes catch a glimmer of light, and I stand up and look out the window. It’s just the headlights from a car passing by, and I sink back on the bed. I reach for my phone but after a moment decide against another wasted call.

I get up and stand in front of the mirror above our dresser. My hair is all over the place, so I finger-comb it back. It reaches the middle of my back, but I never really cared about its length even though everyone else seems to. My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep and starting to get a dark shadow. I pinch my lips together. I was never the makeup-wearing type, but my light skin with dark shadows just doesn’t look right.

 
Just as I decide to call Chris again, I hear a car door slam. I walk over to the window, and in the middle of the road I see Chris getting out of some blue Accord that sure as hell isn’t his. What the fuck is he doing?

Chris turns back to the car and leans in. I see a woman lean over to him, and she gives him a kiss right on the mouth. My mouth falls open, and my hands start to shake. I watch Chris walk coolly up to the apartment entrance. Our apartment’s on the second floor, and I rush out the bedroom and through the kitchen to meet him at the door.
 

He must be walking slowly because it takes him longer than necessary to come through the door. I wonder if he saw me through the window and is preparing what he’s going to say.

The door opens and his handsome face pops in. When he sees me he smiles. I don’t smile back. I open my mouth to scream at him, but he hushes me. He closes the door and mutters something about a headache, and I know he’s drunk. I stand in front of him and look up.
 

“What the hell were you doing? I was calling you nonstop.”

He ignores me and collapses on the couch facefirst. I follow him and shake his shoulders. He ignores me, so I start shaking harder. He lifts his head up. “Leave me alone, bae. We’ll talk in the morning—I swear,” he says before passing out.

The next morning I get out of bed around eleven, but Chris is still passed out on the couch. I go to the kitchen and make myself some toast and eggs, but I keep glancing over at Chris—so much that the eggs end up browner than I wanted. I shrug and eat them anyway.

Chris still hasn’t budged, and it’s almost noon. I go to the couch and stare at him. His face is thin, light caramel, and smooth. He looks innocent with his face relaxing and his mouth open. We have to talk about what I saw last night, and I know I can’t wait any longer. I rub his shoulder, and he lets out a moan like I’m waking him up for grade school.
 

“Chris, time to get up,” I say.
 

Chris keeps groaning the more I shake him, acting more like a five-year-old than a twenty-five-year-old man. Eventually, he opens his eyes and gives me an evil stare. “Leave me alone, girl,” he says.

“You need to wake up. We need to talk. Here, I left some water right here,” I say, reaching for the cup I left on the end table overnight just in case he woke up.

Chris doesn’t respond, and I see his eyes drift close again. I shake my head and set the cup back down, when I hear my phone ringing. I walk to the bedroom and scoop up my Blackberry from my dresser.
 

“Hello,” I say.

“Did he come home yet?” His voice is deep and smooth and sounds annoyed.

“Hi, Jaylen. Yeah, he came in last night. I didn’t mean to keep bothering you about it. I was just irritated, worried, and just . . . you know,” I say.
 

Jaylen and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. He and his older brother, Malcolm, lived right next door to my grandmother’s house in Aurora, Illinois, and we played all day long. All three of us moved to Chicago for college, but none of us made it past our second year. Malcolm just wasn’t feeling it, and Jaylen dropped out of his business major to start his own business and learn for himself. His business as a sports bar owner has been a success, while my photography business was a flop.

“Nah, you didn’t bother me. I’m just pissed at his ass, but that ain’t nothing new,” he says. “I just wanted to make sure you was all right.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, taking a seat on the bed.
 

“All right, well, let me get back to work then,” Jaylen says.

“All right, have a good day,” I say, trying to sound perky. He pauses before saying okay.

We hang up, and I go to take my shower, then dress in dark shorts and a tank top. I stroll back to the living room and decide to watch TV on the floor in front of the couch until Chris wakes up. He sits up around two thirty, drinks the water I left him, and makes his way to the bathroom. When he comes out, he walks straight to the fridge. I watch him stick his whole head inside like he can’t see anything. His head comes out and he stares at me. “We ain’t got food.”

“Yes, we do,” I say.

“No, we don’t. Nothing I can eat right now,” he says, looking from me to the fridge. “Come make something.”

“I’m not making anything until we talk.”

“About what?” he says, leaning on the fridge door. “Me coming home late? Forget it, ’cause I was just hanging with friends. I’m allowed to do that, you know.”

I nod. “No, I mean. I saw you get out of some girl’s car last night, and you gave her a kiss.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What girl? Oh, you mean the girl that gave me a ride home ’cause my car blew out? I didn’t kiss her,” he says, coming from around the fridge and back into the living room. I stand up.

 
“Yes, you did, Chris. I saw you.”

“No, I didn’t,” he says, staring into my eyes. He loves to lie to me this way. He thinks just because he can look into my eyes and lie that I will believe him. That’s what he did the first time he lied about a girl, and I believed him.

“Yes, you did. I saw you. You was getting out of the car, and you turned back around and kissed her.
I saw it
,” I stress.
 

“I don’t know what the hell you saw, but I sure as hell didn’t kiss that girl. She was just someone from the party who gave me a ride. Why the hell every time I’m with a girl you think I’m doing something? Is this because of Keisha? If it is, you need to let it go.”

I shake my head and try to stay focused. “I’m not talking about Keisha. I’m talking ’bout this other chick.”

He rolls his eyes and moves around me to sit on the couch. He turns the TV on and starts up his Xbox. “Chris, I’m talking to you!” I shout, storming over to him. He keeps ignoring me and I snap. I walk over and power off the video game, and he’s left holding his controller like a dummy.

Chris stares at me for a second. My arms are folded under my chest as I stare back at him. We are going to talk whether he likes it or not. Suddenly, he jumps up and pushes me against the entertainment center hard enough that the TV falls to the floor. My back stings like hell, but I reach up and slap the morning breath out of his mouth. He clamps my arms and shoves me back into the entertainment center again. His eyes go from dark brown to black, and his nostrils are flaring. I try kicking him in his groin, but he blocks it. I manage to get one of my hands loose and reach up and hit him in the head, but it doesn’t hurt him as much as I thought it would.
 

He returns the favor and punches me in the head and my eyes close. I feel blow after blow pour all over my body but mainly over my chest and stomach area. I feel the tears pricking behind my eyes, but I don’t want to cry in front of him. I can’t believe this is happening.

At some point Chris stops and stares down at me. He curses and storms out the front door without looking back.

I want to leave before he comes back, but it takes me a while to move. Half because I’m too sore and too shocked, and half because I can’t stop crying.

I stand outside Jaylen’s apartment door for five minutes before I build up the courage to knock. Jaylen comes to the door wearing a wife-beater and gym shorts. He holds the smile on his light-chocolate face until he glances down and sees my duffle bag. I smile quickly.
 

“We just got in an argument, that’s all.”

Jaylen presses his lips together, shakes his head, and leads me inside. His apartment makes me feel comfortable. He has a long sofa, TV, and a few weights lying in the living room. The kitchen holds a round table and two small chairs. He also has two bedrooms and, luckily for me, the guest room is furnished. I love his apartment because it reminds me of home. I turn to face Jaylen as he closes the door behind me. “Can I stay here awhile, please?”

“I kind of figured that by your bag,” he says. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath. “I think Chris is cheating on me. I saw him kissing this random girl last night. She dropped him off, and I saw them kiss from the window. I don’t know what’s going on because he denied that the kiss even happened.”

Jaylen collapses on the couch, looks at me for a second, then looks at the TV screen. He shakes his head and says, “It’s not that hard to figure out. I think you’re right about him cheating.” There is a pause before he asks, “How many times has he cheated on you?”

The question stings hard, and I wish I didn’t care about someone who clearly doesn’t care about me. Why do I cling to the very person pushing me away like I’m unwanted? Am I even wanted? I look around Jaylen’s apartment and feel out of place, and I’ve been here a thousand times. I’ve slept over here, I’ve eaten here, I’ve watched TV, I’ve curled up on that very couch and dozed off to the sound of the Bull’s games, but I still feel out of place.
 

My thoughts turn to my grandmother, and I hear her voice saying that no matter where I go, no matter how far, if there are people there who love me, then I’m home. I start to feel a little better, but then I realize that the person I love and who is supposed to love me probably hasn’t been faithful to our relationship since it started. What kind of love is that?
 

“Once. Maybe twice now,” I answer.

Jaylen nods. I know he remembers exactly how many times because he was here giving me a shoulder to cry on. “Why did you forgive him?” he asks.

“I guess I wanted it so bad. To be in a relationship. A real one with someone I loved and who loved me. Like you and Angela. The way Chris talked to me seemed like we could have it all. Be perfect together, and all that I needed to do was forgive him.”
 

He hesitates before he answers. “You can’t compare your relationship to mine, though.”

I nod, then shrug. “I guess I don’t know how to explain it.” I look around the living room and stare into the kitchen and try to focus on the reason I’m here. “Can I stay here for a while?”