The Art of Storytelling Part 5

"Oh, so you seein me now?" She just stood there, right hand on her hip and her head tipped slightly to the left, a little less agressive pose than for the average mad black woman, but still one that was programmed into every black womans' DNA. She was more of the passive aggressive type. Oddly enough, this time she wasn't even mad. She had been on to him for a while and only been biding her time. Today she'd just had enough of...well, him. "What you talkin bout? I been seein you." He was truly confused, not by what she was saying, but because he'd never seen her like this. She was in rare form that day, even without yelling or snapping her neck around; he knew she was displeased, meant business, and was not about to hold back. He was gonna have to tip toe today and he was already planning the quietest routes. She looked him square in the eye, and as uncomfortable as it made him at the moment, he didn't dare look away. "Last week I was the only one you wanted. The week before I was the only one you was thinking bout. Now I'm the only one you seein. You don't have to tell a room of people that you bout to go pee. You get up and go, they know what you doin. Your actions show that. When you gotta announce all these things to me like that every time, that means they aint true. I aint the only one. Cool. No problem. But you if can't be real bout it then I can't respect you. You look lost right now so let me paint this picture so you can really 'see me'." She went in on him like a star prosecutor and he was on trial for murder. It's funny because everything she said, every point she made, he could do nothing but nod in agreement. He was still thrown since this is where he was used to getting cussed out or swung at by the women he'd dealt with before, but she was as calm as if she was just reading the words she was saying from a book. Then, as he took his walking papers and turned to leave, he asked her: "Why aren't you mad at me? I messed up...bad, I'd think you'd at least have some "choice" words for me." She looked at him and smiled :"Because I don't care." He heard her clearly but couldn't help but repeat the phrase: "You don't care?" Still smiling she answered "No, I don't care. You stopped giving me reasons to care a long time ago" And with that he walked away.