The Problem with Players (Problem #2)

by Brittainy C. Cherry

“He hurt you,” he expressed through gritted teeth. “He apologized.” “What’s the point of an apology if he keeps doing the same behavior?” I felt sucker punched by his words. He stepped in closer, his voice a hair above a whisper. “Why do you do that?” “Do what?” “Accept the lowest form of disrespect and still consider it love.”

“You don’t have to do this, Ave,” I muttered, watching her fight like hell to keep from breaking. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong today.” “Yes, I do.” “Why?” “Because being weak never helped me before.” She shook her softness away, and I watched her eyes harden once more as her browns reappeared. She swiped away the tears that snuck past her stubbornness and rolled her shoulders back.

“If Wesley was such a great rocket scientist, then why couldn’t he calculate the trajectory of the path to keeping a good woman?”

“You suffer from a hyper-independence, which seems like a good thing, but it’s not.” She tossed a ball up and knocked it out. “It’s actually a trauma response because you feel like you can’t rely on others, seeing how it was always your job to be the reliable source.”

‘Grief is just love with no place to go.’ And I felt that deeply. Yet then I realized that the gift of grief is that there are still other types of love that surround you. When I had so much grief after losing your mother, I thought I had nowhere else to put said love, but then I saw it within you three girls. My love for her spread into the love I had for you. And don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t cancel out the love I have for your mother. That grief will always be a part of me, but the love from you girls…that refilled my tank. I think after all these years, that’s what you need, baby girl. You need a refill of your tank.”