New to the story? Start from the beginning.
Malika tried to get in touch with the landlord all weekend. She texted him. She called and left multiple voicemails. She contacted her old real estate agent. Nothing. Channing said she should try again first thing Monday morning.
“I don’t want to be dealing with this and Alistair on Monday,” she said, cradling her face with her hands. “Why can’t anything ever work out for me? Why does everything have to end up so fucked up?”
“That’s not true,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a mug of tea he’d brought in for her. “I know this apartment thing is messed up. Trust me, I do. I know what it’s like to feel unsettled.”
“Unsettled and pregnant?”
Channing laughed through his nose, then straightened out his face. He removed his glasses, a sure sign, Malika knew, that he was about to say something serious.
“Look, I don’t want to pressure you,” he said. “But can you please consider moving back in? This place is empty without you.”
Malika shook her head, averting her eyes.
“No. Uh-uh. I’m getting my own place. That place that I signed a lease for. Where I paid first and last and security. That’s where I’m moving.”
“Seriously, I need you to just think about it,” Channing continued. “Don’t you think we belong together if we keep getting back together?”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Jamerican Writer to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.