"Why did you do it?" He asked. He wasn't even listening, in fact he was caressing the car door. I was about to blow. And when I did, he looked up his eyes wide and surprised, his hand frozen on the top of the car.

"Because I had nothing else to do dammit!" I yelled. "What the fuck?" And with that I turned on my heels. Right now I didn't care if I was walking with my ass in the air, nor if my thighs were sticking together. I just didn't give a fuck.

"Gemmia where the hell are you going?" I could hear him yelling from down the street. And I also didn't care if the neighbours new what was going on either. "Weren't you the one just preaching about communication, and then you walk away when I ask you a simple question?"

"Simple question my ass. If you had been listening to me all bloody night, you would have known, that that wasn't no goddamn simple question. If you cared about anything other than your job and your car, and your fucking secretary with the nice mother-fucking ass, then you would know. That was not no simple question." I screeched. The house I was standing outside suddenly came to life, and the front door opened. Mrs. Friggin Morgan. I didn't care. Mike was coming towards me down the sidewalk. He stood in front of me, arms outstretched. He was gonna touch me, and I hoped to god he wouldn't, because I might box him upside the head.

"Is this about Dinah?" He asked, and he was quiet. I glared at him, through what seemed like tiny slits for eyes, I was so mad right now, I could feel the steam boiling out the top of my head.

"Who the hell is Dinah?" I spat. Suddenly the slightly raised left eyebrow was annoying me. The dark blue business suit he had worn to dinner annoyed me, his row of perfectly straight Jamaican white teeth annoyed me too. And I turned around again, and started walking because I was thinking about knocking them out of his mouth.

"My secretary." He replied. "Gemmia, come on, please. Talk to me Baby." He crooned. I could hear it in his voice, even in his heart, but I couldn't calm down. He didn't care about me. And for the past three years I had listened to him, silenced my thoughts, my needs, and my frustrations, just to make him happy. No I was not gonna listen to his god damn crooning, he was gonna listen to me.

"Do you love me Mike?" I asked him.

"Yes!" Too fast.

"Mike, do you love me because I am convenient or because of who I am?" I asked.

"Baby you know I love you for you." He replied, and the dark brown eyes were pools of affection, I saw the pulse in his jaw relax, and I wanted to believe him.

"But you don't know me. Since I've known you, I have been what you wanted me to be. I have done what you wanted me to do. I have been you. You can't love me." I spat back. "You need to go and get with Diana." I told him.

"Dinah!"

"Whatever her fucking name is. Do you think I enjoy listening to you talk about her? When we are out for a romantic evening?" I asked.

"But Baby, I'm not attracted to her." He said, and his voice sounded desperate and pleading.

"You like her ass."

"I said the guys always talk about it. I'm not attracted to her. Just to you, and you know it. Those chocolate brown thighs, and luscious………" I cut him off with my hand in his face.

"Men do not cheat because they are attracted to their secretaries, they cheat because they are lazy bastards. Secretaries are just readily accessible all damn day. And you are too lazy to go out and chase a woman to cheat on me." I told him.

"I'm not cheating on you. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because I want to talk about this. And if you knew what was good for you, you would shut up, and talk about ear wax if that's what I wanted to talk about right now." I snapped, and his mouth fell shut. "And yes, this bloody well means you aint gonna be gittin none tonight!"

"I'm sorry Gemmia. I love you. Honestly. Tell me how to fix it!" He said, and I paused. And suddenly I could feel some sort of release to my tension. That's what I wanted him to say. But I was gonna let it all out anyway. I was sure that he had never heard me say more than fifty words in a day, and now here I was letting him have it.

"Mike."

"Gemmia."

"Mike, you and me aren't right for each other." I said, it was the first time I had said it out loud. And immediately I regretted it, because his baby brown eyes were flooding with tears. Wait one minute. This was not the Mike I knew. I had known him for seven years, and he hadn't even cried when his Mother died. No this was not Mike, and I could not handle this.

"Wh….wh….what are you doing?" I asked.

"Are you trying to end this?" He asked, and a great big fat tear slid down his cheek and plodded on his windbreaker. I looked at it.

"I….I dunno what I'm doing." I said, and he just nodded.

"I don't wanna lose you Gemmia, and….and whatever you want me to do I will change to make you happy." He whispered. And more tears plodded down his face, and my shoulders began to relax, and without consciously doing it, I had thrown my arms around his large towering beast of a frame, and we were gripping each other tightly. Black men are not suppose to cry, especially ones as big as Mike. That was one of Momma's philosophies. Maybe this meant he was serious.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"Me too." He agreed, and we turned back down the street. His car door (Beautiful Red) was still open and so was Mrs. Morgan's door. When she saw us in each others arms, she closed her door and the lights went out.

"I think Beautiful Red needs a wash." He said. The friggin car again.