Before I Let Go by Darren Coleman

now, you had best forget that you know me. It will be over. And when you regain your senses and call trying to come back, it will be too late.” She turned and stormed down the stairs, stopping midway to add yet another threat. “Oh, and Cory,” she said. “If you’ve just been using me till something better came along, I swear you will regret the day that you even smelled this pussy.”
    Her verbal thrashing had me standing there with the dumbest of looks on my face. I had never imagined that Paula could get foul and come out of her mouth like that, which only goes to show you that you never really know a woman until you’ve pissed her off. It took me a while to cool off after that whole scene, and I have to admit I wondered what she meant by that last statement. If I ever decided to speak with her again, we’d have to clear up that matter. I’ve never been one to play that game. She could bust a windshield and slash a tire if she wanted to, but she had a car, too. I haven’t ever understood why men let women do that and then sit around with a dumb look, saying, “Man, she’s crazy.” It should be more like, “Man, I must be weak.”
    It was nearly half past noon and time for me to get ready for a Sunday afternoon filled with nothing but football. As comfortable as I was in the bedroom, I was forced to go into the living room to watch the games, because I had installed the DirecTV only in the living room. Satellite TV is the shit. I get every single Dallas Cowboys game, even if it’s a regionally covered game. The Atlanta Falcons were cool. I even had a Michael Vick jersey, but I had to see my Cowboys every week. When I first got to Atlanta the only thing I liked about the Falcons was Darlene, who was a Falcons cheerleader. We met at Club 112 and had been screwing ever since. Every single man needs a woman who doesn’t mind if he calls at two in the afternoon or two in the morning. Darlene was that kind of woman for me. I didn’t know if it was a sex thing or if she just truly liked me that much. If she was emotionally attached, she never let it become a problem by becoming demanding and needy. I wasn’t sure if she had a man, and although I was fond of her as a friend and sex partner, I didn’t care enough beyond that to ask.
    While I flipped through the channels I thought about inviting Darlene over after the game, since the Dirty Birds were playing at home against the Saints. There were so many games on that I couldn’t find the Cowboys game. The satellite dish was definitely coming with me back to D.C. I might’ve even been able to get my subscription into my negotiable benefits package from the Hakitos, though I seriously doubted it. It had nothing to do with work. It didn’t matter, anyway. There was no way that I was going to be forced to watch the Redskins every week.
    I was looking forward to going to Mike’s Barbershop back home, walking in there with my Cowboys leather jacket, baseball cap, and my number 22 jersey. I always got a kick out of the friendly arguments that Mike, myself, and anyone who happened to be in the shop had about our favorite teams. That’s one thing that women never will understand or appreciate: the way men get legitimately worked up about football, as if it were really their team.
    I opened the front door to get my Sunday edition of the Atlanta Constitution. After I shuffled through the paper to get the sports section, I sat on the couch and grabbed the remote. As I flipped the channel to Fox to prepare myself for the NFL pregame show I began to wonder what I was going to eat. I was planning to stay in my apartment all day with the phone unplugged. Maybe I’d order carryout from Mick’s. A nice juicy steak, a few ice cold Coronas, and a Sunday with plenty of football action was all a man could ask for in life. Who needed women?
    My pager interrupted my pregame activities. I was hoping desperately that it would not be Paula. It wasn’t so much that I was against