 131, 132, 133, 134. Do you count your steps too? I always wondered if it was a people thing or just my own crazy person thing. Since I was a kid, anytime I stepped for a struggle, I kept score. Maybe because it keeps my mind busy or maybe a small part of me wishes that if you quantify your pain, someday you'll qualify for reparations. Once the coffee shop came into view, I stopped for a second to take a breather and take stock. My legs were still full of cement in my heart, cold as stone. On second thought, maybe that's wishful thinking. A stone doesn't pound so hard that you can't hear your own thoughts and a stone definitely wouldn't start aching the very second it spotted him. I held the cup tightly in my hand, hoping it would continue to maintain a force field around me. In times like this, it's a blessing to be a black man. Keep eye contact for half a second too long and all of a sudden, everyone has somewhere else far away they need to be. I told her we should have met back at my spot like we always do because I knew for damn sure she'd be late and had me sitting around looking idle and nothing makes people more on edge than a man with nothing to do. I pinched my nose at that last thought and mumbled the same words I'd been saying since Sunday morning. You were both drunk, you had been partying. This happens all the time. When I looked up, someone was setting their things down at the table close to me. Startled, I stood up heaving and stared down at them. The person jumped, scooped up their cup and backed away barking something I couldn't make out because all I could process in that moment was the look of horror on Selena's face. 208, 209, 210. I sat down and folded my arms over my chest so he couldn't hear my heart trying to escape. He gave me a smile so forced I could see each muscle in his face struggle like it had never done this strange thing before. Here. No thank you. What do you mean? I hardly ever see you without a coffee cup in your hands. Don't act like you didn't want it. His phone rang. Oh, I gotta take this. I nodded quickly and dug in my pockets like I was searching for something hoping if I moved quick enough he wouldn't notice that I was speaking. Me and Selena met in psych. In one class we talked about the world being one giant mirror. If you're not in conversation the other person will subconsciously nod too. If you smile at people, people will smile at you. I put this to the test as I re-approach the table. She was focused on her phone but when she noticed me she flipped it over and pushed the corners of her mouth up. I took this as a victory. That was the internship I was telling you about. This summer is about to be a movie. I smiled wider and her face fell. I dialed back the grin and kept my head still. My bad though. What did you need help with? I need you to tell me what happened Saturday night. She said without hesitation. I rubbed the back of my neck and laughed nervously searching for the words even though this was the answer I had been rehearsing for days. I mean, it came over to my place. We pre-gamed a little bit. Went to the club, we drank some more over there. You said you left your charger at my place so like we came back and then you ended up falling asleep on the couch. I thought you were going to stay over but in the morning you were gone. She reached for the coffee cup swirled it around then returned her gaze to me. Unsatisfied. Unsafe. I continued. I can't really remember but I think we may have had sex. You think we may have had sex? She rolled up her sleeve pointing to a bruise. If there were a button for the ground to swallow me whole I'd be jamming on that bitch like I was playing Street Fighter. I think I may have had sex with you. What the fuck does that mean, Ray? I cleared my throat but still couldn't find the space for the words to come out clearly. I mean, I know like you don't have casual sex. I know I don't have sex with nerds, no offense. I know that friends aren't supposed to have sex with each other but I just know that something happened. I don't know, I'm trying to make sense of it all too. So talk, be honest, be a friend. She pushed the cup aside and held on to me like it was pulling her down in that moment. I wanted to shake her off but instead I folded my hands over hers and exhaled with my eyes closed saying a little prayer. When I opened them again, she looked soft and scared. I'm sorry. For what? For that. Do you remember that side class on Schrodinger's cat? There's a cat in a flask of poison in a box. Now until someone has the courage to look inside that box that cat is just as much dead as it is alive. I don't wanna live like that, Ray. Wondering if I'm the cat or if I'm the poisoned cat. Please just say it. I closed my eyes again and removed the wall that had been barely keeping the truth back all this time. It was an out of body experience. Like I had no control. And I forced myself on you. There's like this part of me that always thought that like you wanted me to choose you. Cause you always asked me about all my sex stories and all that stuff. And I just kind of figured you started envisioning yourself in those. And I mean, you were acting really wild at the club and when you decided to come back to my house, I just, I chose you. You attacked me, Ray. You forced yourself on me. You, Ray. Hold up. All right. I get that you and the whole world is on this whole raw, raw respect, my pink pussy hat trend. But like, I don't even have to be having this conversation with you in the first place. You feel me? Like, give me a little bit of credit. She didn't move. If she wasn't blinking, I would check to see if her battery had died or something. Look, I know every douchebag says this, but I'm actually not a bad guy. Like, I know I'm not perfect, but neither are you. Like, I just want you to see the good in me like I'm trying to see the good in you. She took her hand back, flipped over her phone, and pressed her finger against a big red button. My face twisted just like a mirror. Hers did, too. You didn't care what I thought or felt Saturday, so why care now? She stood up, clutching her phone and the coffee cup. My mind spun. How do I stop her? How do I get that phone out of her hands? I tried to follow her, but my legs felt like cement. It was my last chance to save myself. And stupidly, all I could manage was police. She turned back and glanced over her shoulder at me. My heart lifted for a second, but that only made the fall worse. She whipped the coffee cup in the garbage and left. One, two, three, four. I text the audio file to the therapist I've been working with online just in case I got cold feet. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry, but mostly I wanted to explode. But not in an action-flick way, like a big bang, breaking apart before coming back together to form something stronger, something hopeful. I thought of Ray exploding, too, but doubted there was much hope in his. For a wash of a second, I felt sympathy for him. But when that wave passed, I forgot his face and felt nothing but joy for the faceless girl who I might be saving from him or maybe someone like him. Ray was wrong about a lot of things, but he wasn't lying about one. I'm definitely on the rah-rah respect my pussy hat kick. But this is not a trend, this is a transition. Hi, everybody, I'm Shambhudi. I am the writer and content creator of the video that you just watched. A video that I understand is massively triggering and heavy, but I hope that you agree that these are the kinds of videos that need to be seen on mainstream platforms and that can drive really important discussions. So I'm looking forward to reading the comment section to know for better or for worse how you personally interacted with this particular piece of content. Push it forward, I'll just white-knuckle this shit. I can uncle this shit. I've been tired, I've been patient. I've been waiting on the time. I just posted on my Instagram with papers I just signed. He's my father, I think my father, he got me stronger.