When I arrived back at the apartment, Cindy was keeping busy in the kitchen by mixing up a food that I couldn't distinguish between plant or animal matter. She looked up as I entered, then immediately focused her attention back on the steaming item. I couldn't blame her any for being pissed at me; I was pissed at myself, so it was only right for others to be angry with me as well.
Clearing my throat, I hooked my thumbs in the back of my jeans' pockets while keeping my distance. The countertop proved to be a rather successful void in representing the emotional canyon between us. "Cindy?" I asked. "Can I talk to you?"
She didn't look up, but managed to nod in acceptance so that her dark curls jingled.
"I'm sorry," I said, rocking back on my heels nervously. "I didn't mean to talk smack about you like that. It's just…" Just what? I asked myself. Just that your life feels as if it's going down the drain, and you're powerless to stop it? What is it now, Alanza? "It's just that I'm going through a rough time right now. I really am sorry," I apologized.
Cindy nodded and glanced up at me with a smile tugging on the corners of her plump lips. "It aiight, boo." I really didn't hate her for moving back in. In fact, I welcomed her presence to assist with the Logan and Mom issue; Cindy, after all, had to have her own opinions about it, and I was more than eager to hear them.
"Thanks," I managed to smile back. Well, things were good with Original Cindy again. Now, it was time to find Mom. "Cindy?"
"Mm-hm?"
"Where's Mom?"
"She left."
"Where to?"
"Dunno. Think she said sumthin' 'bout Kit and Seal. No," she snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering. "It was Krit and Syl. Yeah, 'dat it."
"Thanks. I'll just wait 'til she comes back then."
"I think she's stayin' the night."
"The night? Why?"
Cindy shrugged. "She was pretty up'et 'bout 'dat fight you and her 'ad."
"Great…" I groaned. I headed on over to the couch, with its limited privacy and began to search through my suitcase, which had unfortunately become my closet. It seemed as though I never would manage to get space of my own. I was now faced with the dilemma of what to wear to dinner with James.
"Whatcha lookin' for?" Cindy asked, looking up from dinner.
"Something to wear tomorrow night. I got a date with James; we have to have a serious talk about some things."
"Your sugar gettin' nasty on ya, hon?"
I laughed. "He's just not telling me stuff that I need to know."
"Like what?"
"Like why I couldn't use his bathroom."
"Uh-oh," Cindy mumbled.
"'Uh-oh'? What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, arching a defiant eyebrow. Even though Cindy liked her ladies, that didn't change the fact that she had more experience in relationships than I did.
"He trippin' boo. Yo man don't let choo in the bathroom just 'cause. He's hidin' sumthing'."
"I figured so."
"What could he be hidin' in 'da bathroom?"
"I don't know? Poor toilet paper?" I shrugged. "Who knows with him."
"A lady friend."
"What? James? No."
"Makes sense, don't it? You been gone a week and sudd'ly he hidin' stuff from you. He ain't never done 'dat 'fore-has he?"
"No," I reluctantly admitted.
"'Dere you got it, girl," she announced, pointing a highly manicured finger at me. "You ask 'im 'bout it. Men ain't good liars. He'll stumble if he's lyin'. Blush an' sputter. If he don't, you got nothin' to worry 'bout."
"I didn't need to hear that," I whined.
"Original Cindy gonna give you 'da truth straight-up whether ya like it or not."
"What if it's not true? He might just have something that he doesn't want me to see. Like…I don't know…a present?" I grimaced, trying to convince myself that my lie wasn't nearly as pathetic as it sounded.
Cindy raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. "He's trippin', boo, and 'dat ain't good."
