THE TALK
Sometimes men are a thing—a paradox—that takes me forever to understand and have a better clarification of who these humans really are. Leniey was easy, as in, it was just so easy for him to tell me that he was screwing over some women, and he felt nothing about it. It was so easy to say that, and he did not even a bit wonder, 'What is this girl thinking'. However, if roles were reversed, I am sure I would ruin him. If I told him that I was with Kelv, because I sure needed that, and because I felt he was the right man for me, because I at least felt at peace with him, it would ruin him. Additionally, if I could tell him that, of course, we had our nights, I am sure it would clearly bruise his ego. Maybe that's the difference between us and men; men can never overlook sex, but women can; we do not care much; or is it that yes, we care, but we do not really put it into much attention?
"Do you miss Kelvin?" Leniey asked after the long silence. I really did not feel comfortable with what I was engaging myself in as of now.
"No. After everything, I just... lost it." I stated. Sometimes I did miss Kelvin; of course, anyone would if y'all had been together with someone for some time. I did miss him; some nights I would just view his profile picture to wonder what he was really doing. I assume he was outside of this place, but I did not know where, for my ego could not let me ask. So yeah, Kelvin, of course, had some soft spot somewhere in my heart, but sure enough, he would never surpass that of Leniey.
"I left him dealing with the runway." Leniey stated. I really did not feel like talking about Kelvin. It was just the worst deal-breaker in a relationship. Why are we even talking about an ex? Was always the question that ran through my mind. After Leniey, I never really told people about my past. I was actually lucky because no man really asked; why should we ask? I feel women ask a lot as a way of stating, 'I want to know much more about you', well, that's not me. I don't even care about your past; I just hope you are not here to kill me with whatever happened in your past. I just honestly don't really ask, and maybe one day if someone asks me, well, I will know how to answer that, because I hate it when I start bluffering about how someone else treated me, and especially the fact that people talking about their previous lovers or previous relationships always have something to say, not positively about their significant others; it has to be something they did or whatever, but well, I blame none. I just chose this path; I am not here to explain to a man about my past, and yet all he is doing is maybe thinking of the possibilities of me and that ex of mine somehow sleeping together. Is there anything else these dudes think about when they meet with women other than sex? I wonder all the time,even Leniey here. I know he has an agenda, as every man does. Maybe if we were all humans and built differently, I would state this differently. Women just search for emotional clarification and love; maybe that's why we really get hurt when a man cheats on us; we feel betrayed, the specks of an understanding girlfriend.
"Oooh." That was all I would say, after Leniey's question. I really was not in the mood for some unhealthy conversation about my ex. Leniey, I could see he was really getting drunk from the way he started stuttering on his words while talking to the waiter about another cocktail being brought forward. "Should we go home?" I asked him, he was really getting wasted, and first things first, I never really knew how to drive, and if I knew, trust me, unless all the lanes are carless, where I do not have to stay on one lane, and furthermore, I had issues with my eyes and am not sure if it could really bear the street lights and car lights, well, we will have to stay the night in this hotel.
"I try hard not to feel anything." Leniey started, and I knew this was going to start to be an opening-up session. It always happens with drinking; you just feel like talking to someone or just saying something.
"It's okay; if it is about what happened, just know that I am here for you." That was the only thing that I would say at the moment. It was the only simple thing—the only thing, really.
"My dad passed away when I was ten, barely even in knowledge of who that man was." Leniey stated, and I saw him gallop a hefty amount of the cocktail until he made a face, showing that he was really drinking up his pain. I never really knew about all that, but he actually never spoke about his dad much. As for me, if I was left by my dad, I am not sure. Okay, sometimes I hate saying it, but I know he himself knows it; he knows that he does not really belong in my heart that much. I don't know; I would not really feel that much; I would just breathe in and out and just accept; maybe that's how different I am to many." I've failed my mother numerous times. From when we were on campus, she would always tell me, Hey Len, read, Hey Len, this and that. I just can't imagine that those are the last words I shall hear and remember my entire life about her." Leniey added. He was somehow in denial, maybe denying that his mom was really gone. I understood him, but I don't know how long it would take him to finally accept that she is really gone; even the thought of it scares me on behalf of him.
"Hey, it's okay." I stated.
"Barely." Leniey replied. He did not look at me at any moment; he was just locked in his drink, checking if the glass was empty so that he could add another. "Barely,.. Angel. You know how it felt when your father hit your mom?"
"Wait, do you really remember that?"
"Of course, that was the first conversation we ever had." Leniey replied. Sometimes I put my parent's business out there; maybe I should learn to shut up; they had their own lives to live, and especially now that I am learning, I have understood that relationships and marriage are not really an easy job; it just takes a lot of consideration, hopefulness, and patience. I just sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to enjoy a really healthy relationship. I fear the happenings that did to my mom; do follow up with me; it would really break her, I know, but she would be happier with me leaving than staying.
"Yeah, I do remember." I stated, "It's something that keeps on really repeating in my head. I remember it every day."
"That's how it somehow feels. It feels cold, it feels lonely, and I finally feel lost. I did this job to at least make her proud, to make her see that the boy he raised is finally doing something that can make his living. I hate the fact that she saw me smoke weed in front of my younger sister. I remembered the look of disappointment in her eyes. The look of anger, worry, and pain—I know she wondered what the villagers would say. But I stopped, I stopped rolling stupid blunts, I stopped, just because I could not stand seeing her face at the back of my mind as I took the matchbox or some lighter to lighten a fuckin blunt, with the yearns of just feeling high. Hell, how much I apologized that day." Leniey was now talking a lot. He never really opened up to me that much; he would just state some words and keep quiet after the long run, but today he quite did.
"Why do you tell me this?" I asked him, which made him, for the first time, raise his head and lock eyes with me.
"You liked me vulnerable; I always knew, and I really trust you. I just really feel at home when you are around; my heart is somehow at peace. I hope you just don't break. You know it will suffer. As it always did." Leniey stated. How the hell did he know I liked him more when he opened up to me? Of course, okay, maybe I once read it or it was something he read in books that women like men who actually show much of their emotions, but I don't really think it was about wants as of now. I feel that he needed someone to speak to and to just listen to him as much as possible. Death is something that really does not cause pity; it just takes what it feels is right, not caring what it has left behind. But he was right; I felt somehow lucky when a man I had a liking for really opened up to me about his problems. I just somehow felt like his real mama, you know, and it somehow really felt loving; it made me feel trustable.