Excellence in Loving You

The blunt crackles as it burns down. This is blunt number four for the evening. It's close to 10 p.m. and Chayne is ready for her night cap. She looks at the wine selection on her kitchen counter, grabs a bottle and pours herself a glass.

There is such a heavy feeling of hopeless in her spirit. It is weighing her down like an anchor. Tonight may just be the night. This just may be the last supper. She didn't make it to Dick's but if she adds a bar of dark chocolate to her vino it becomes a meal.

Suicide was never very far from her mind. She can't decide if it's death she wants or if she feels as if death is her only option for freedom. Either way she is still unclear whether or not suicide will send her to hell, so she never pushes the envelope with this obsession. Well at least not anymore. Her final attempt was in Carly's back yard.

Chayne is so fucked up right now. Her mind is running a mile a minute and tears are crawling down her face. She launches her web browser and pulls up the world's most popular social networking website and does a search for Dirty.

Not bad she thinks to herself. Only one hundred and thirty profiles to search through. This investigation bore much fruit. She found a profile and pictures.

"Douglas Sullivan a.k.a Dirty." Bingo, she exclaimed.

His profile was neglected and scarce. From her investigating she discovered he had no offspring and was single. This was very pleasing to her little plotting heart.

Chayne clicked the envelope icon and began to compose a letter:

Dirty,

Hey it's Chayne. I really wanted to give you my number but I was not sure if you were feeling me or not- I'm still not sure about that either.

I live alone in the city and usually cook more food than one person can eat and would love to have you over for dinner.

Hit me back if that sounds like something you would find interesting. I hope you have a nice weekend.

Take care,

Chayne

Before even running this email through her logic Chayne pressed send. She needed another blunt and a second glass of wine. On her way to the kitchen she heard a light knock on the door.

She looked through the peep hole. It was Jermaine. Jermaine had done Chayne foul. He was in the Navy and can be convicted of breaking a heart in every city his ship has docked. She just so happened to be the lucky victim in this particular city.

He always stopped by unannounced and was never reliable. Chayne could never resist the emotionally bankrupt relationship though. She had tried and tried and tried.

Changing her phone number, blocking email addresses and avoiding his part of town are the steps she has taken to move on from Jermaine but nothing every worked.

He once flew her down to California for the weekend only to fuck her between intervals of playing Black Ops and Saints Row 2. Meanwhile she never existed to him.

Oh but she did leave his ass once. This is the one time he ever showed remorse. Chayne had discovered that Jermaine was hitting up other slab even though she was giving him pussy three days out of the week.

That was enough for her to walk away. She may have low self-esteem and be lonely but she would not willingly enter a love triangle with this fucker.

Jermaine must have known it was over for good that time. He showed up to her apartment a few days after the silent treatment had been implemented and dropped of a present for her. It was a little black box with a gold bow. Inside the box was a white gold tennis bracelet with diamonds.

This bling was so hot. Chayne was flabbergasted but she wore her usual poker face. She never let her face show her true feelings. She could be dying inside while sporting a smile and you would not know the difference.

Jermaine at a loss for words could only say he was sorry and ask her to forgive him. She didn't want to but the starving addict inside her was convinced she could love the apathy out of his cold black heart.

Chayne opened the door and shut the switch off on the mental conversation she was having in her head. Jermaine had been drinking and showed up with her favorite bottle of wine.

He never really says much but he doesn't have to. His eyes tell her all she needs to know. Rather all she thinks she needs to know.

It's abundantly clear that Chayne attention seeks from such scum because the relationship between her and her father is lacking. Yes all too common I know.

There was seldom any affection shown and when it was the moment was as awkward as humanly possible. He was comfortable co existing with her though. They were both in the kitchen playing Ozzie and Harriet.

He grabbed a glass dropped a pineapple wedge inside and filled it up with wine. Chayne's glass was half empty so he refreshed it for her. That's close to three glasses in less than an hour- she goes hard!

Jermaine reached around Chayne and grabbed a blunt and put it in his mouth. Wine and weed were a must no matter what. Chayne has been known to wake up to a glass of wine and a blunt but of course that is only during summer.

Summer is Chayne's rumspringa as far as she is concerned. There are no don'ts just do's. A little Jesus juice never hurt anyone is the justification Chayne clothes herself with.

There is little talking and much intoxication. Jermaine thinks he is laying his head down at Chayne's place tonight but he is sadly mistaken. Searching for a way to get rid of Jermaine is making Chayne crazy. She kicks herself for even letting his punk ass in.

The chiming from her iPad could not have come at a better time. It was an alert from Dirty- he gave her his digits.

Some women would wait for a little bit before responding to avoid appearing desperate but not Chayne. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it and made no fucking apologies.

Without hesitation she composed a text message to Dirty:

Hey, what's up? So I am trying to adopt a healthier way of eating so I am going to make Curry chicken and kale tonight. Are you free?

Within a few minutes she is met with his reply:

"That sounds cool."

That was it. Three words. He's one of those that you have to pull teeth from it seems. Wonder if it's worth the effort.

The S.O.A.D playlist has completed its cycle and there is silence for once in the evening. For a brief second Chayne finds Jesus.

Right there in the kitchen she falls to her knees. Tears are wetting the kitchen floor and sobs are filling the atmosphere. She cries out to God and gives Him praise:

"Thank you Lord for Your goodness and Your kindness. Lord I bless Your Holy name. You alone are worthy to be worshiped Lord.

Halleluiah to the Lamb of God!"

It's so crazy how things work out. She has never wanted anything more than to feel wanted.

Before she can come to she remembers she is not alone in her apartment. What bizarre behavior she has been showing this evening. Constant day dreaming, endless conversations in her head and crying spells have accounted for half of her day.

Jermaine is so in the zone he did not even notice Chayne's episode. She has already picked herself up and heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

She likes her lines long, thin, and smooth. Chayne will spend an hour on the mirror making sure the powder is free from chunks of debris. All she wants is a smooth bump- well perhaps two.

The cocaine numbs her darkened soul and erases memories of pain. Chayne first knew cocaine was evil when she did a line while attending a party. Her favorite band and was playing and she was dancing and having a blast. When she took her first line it was as if the music stopped. She felt a disconnect from the comfort that music provided to her soul.

The loss of comfort welcomed darkness into her spirit. She did not care and she did not feel. Self sabotage is such a curious thing. She doesn't want to be numb and disconnected from Dirty and she surely does not want to be fused to Jermaine the way she currently is.

Chayne slams her glass of wine and tries to find a new outfit. She grabs a black cloth and wraps herself. It appears as if she is wearing a nice towel but it is actually a wrap to go over swimwear.

As she opens the door to exit her room she bumps into Jermaine. He had been smoking a blunt and watching television in the front room but it looks like he is on a mission now.

He blocks the door way and tries to steal a kiss. Chayne darts under his arm and walks over to the countertop. She is finished with her first bottle of wine for the evening, she is not sure if she is drunk or dreaming.

Jermaine walks behind Chayne and brushes his erection on her ass. This is not entertaining but rather disgusting to her.

"Can I help you?" she snaps with a vicious tone.

"I want to put my dick in you." he mumbles.

Chayne laughs and advises Jermaine that she is already spoken for this evening and is about to have a date in a few minutes. Before Jermaine can even respond Chayne and her glass of wine guide him to the door.

It's been a good twenty minutes and there is no word from Dirty. Chayne picks up her phone and without thinking she dials his number.

He sounds so cute on the phone. He picked up on the third ring. Wonder what kind of mental gymnastics it took for him to even take the call.

Dirty brings up the fact that Chayne forgot to confirm a time for dinner or even give an address. It was getting late so he figured it was for a different night so he jumped in his car and was headed to the store.

So glad that she was able to clear up her mistake she stated that dinner was happening now and the address was 912 Front St Unit A.

Immediately upon hanging up she rushes to kitchen and opens up the ice box.

Tonight's recipe consists of the following ingredients: chicken, garlic, kale, onion, curry sauce, carrot and mango.

Those are all cut up and tossed in a pan with olive oil and served over basmati rice.

Chayne hasn't cooked rice in a while and relies on the rice cooker her friend from Cambodia gave her. They worked together some years back. Chayne loves that old rusty rice cooker and vows to never get rid of it.

Now that the meal is cooking she needs to put on something that looks good and doesn't reek of garlic. When all else fails Chayne selects black yoga pants and a tight white tee shirt.

She looks in the mirror to make sure her nose is clean and debates whether or not she has time to break out the Fashion First Aid kit. The knock on the door lets her know that she will have to rock her face just the way it is because her guest has arrived.