#RelationshipGoals: It’s All Fun And Games Until Your Boyfriend “Dies”
…Continued from last week
After that little Nola trip, Andrew called himself getting upset with me because he claimed I was being selfish and didn’t consider his financial issues while we were there. He said that when he told me about his card getting locked – or whatever he said the story was – basically, he didn’t have access to his cash so it upset him when I went out with my friends and didn’t think to bring him food. Andrew doesn’t like asking for things — or so he says — so he didn’t ask me flat out to support him in Nola while he worked his mess out. Yet he still owes me for a morning after pill and the last time he came up to NYC, but that’s another story for the book.
I say all that to say that when Andrew got an attitude with me on one of our very few and far between phone calls about him losing his job, I shot back at him, “I’m supposed to read your mind?!”
“No, you’re supposed to care enough when you hear me say something about my money being funny and either offer or show me that you’re not selfish,” Andrew said.
How would I know that’s exactly the actions he wants me to take when he’s the one telling me no every time I offer to something for him? Remember the whole phone situation? By that time, I’d put it out of my mind to ask to support him because he was always against it and obviously wanted to prove that, as a man, he can handle whatever needs to be handled.
“You know I don’t like arguing babe,” Andrew said breaking the silent treatment we were giving each other.
We made up for the moment, but I remained frustrated with our relationship.
“I need to go ahead and move to New York,” Andrew said one night while I was in Houston for the weekend. “I’ve always wanted to be there for my music. I should just go ahead and make the move. You’re there…” I could hear his wheels turning. “I should get a good car, start driving Uber down here, make some money and then head up there and drive up there–Uber Black. I would need a luxury car.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I told him. I really did think it was a good idea, but with is record, I wondered how Andrew would be able to get a car.
“Would you be able to consign for the car?” Andrew asked with so much sweetness in his voice my teeth ached.
“Now Andrew, I don’t even have that kinda credit…”
He cut me off, “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have asked you.” An awkward moment of silence passed between us. Andrew cut it, “I’ll just ask Steffy.”
Steffy was someone Andrew called his business partner. What kind of business? I wasn’t sure. As far as I knew he rapped at her speaking engagements from time to time Yeah, it made no sense to me either. He claimed they only had a working relationship, however Steffy often made it known that she would love to be his girl. He told me time and time again that he never obliged her and would never. Their relationship still gave me pause.
“Oh really Andrew? Well good luck with that.”
“Yes really. Enjoy lunch with my mom, I’ve got to go make this happen,” Andrew got up and walked out of the room.
I did enjoy that lunch with his mom and she enjoyed me. After a couple cocktails, Andrew called me and told me to meet him back at the hotel. He had a surprise for me. When I got back to the hotel, Andrew was waiting out front with a small plant in his arms, sitting on a Benz. He got the luxury car and Steffy consigned on it for him. The plant was for me. I guess he couldn’t find any bouquets. Andrew was always trying and not trying at the same time.
Our relationship trotted on with me visiting Houston and his visits to NYC becoming fewer and farther between. A couple of months later, I decided I was going on vacation for Thanksgiving and booked a trip to Martinique for fun, sun, reflection and relaxation. I was still with Andrew, but it felt like we were barely together with the lack of communication and the distance feeling like it had extended. I tried to get in touch with Andrew while I was traveling and when I landed. His responses were non-existent or sporadic.
I’d missed a What’s App call from a Houston number. I received a message from that number. It was Andrew using his dad’s phone. His message read: “Hey babe. I tried to reach you.”
I replied: “I missed the call, but I am here now. I keep missing you! Are you ok?”
He responded an hour later: “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen again.”
I got the message when I woke up that next day. I tried to call and got no answer. I messaged and waited for it to be seen. Nothing.
We were headed to the beach for the day. Everyone was in high spirits. We danced our way through the morning and packed our things to head out for the day. I missed a phone call from Andrew’s sister Andrea as we were loading the cars.
I called her back and she picked up immediately. I could tell in her voice that she was crying. “Hey Dani,” she muttered. “I know you’re on vacation, but I had to let you know. I could wait until you get back though…” she trailed off.
“No. You have to tell me now sis. I’m here and you’re crying. What is going on?” I felt my heart beating out of my chest.
“My brother died,” she sobbed.
“Your what? You brother? Brother who?” I asked, my voice shaking and getting louder with each question.
“I only have one brother Dani. He’s dead,” She took deep breaths between her words. “I don’t know what happened. I am trying to find out information, but I don’t know. I’m hearing he was shot.”
I started crying. I sank into the grass under my feet. “What happened?!” My best friend Corey came running towards me.
“He’s dead,” I cried. “What?!”
Andrea hung up after telling me she would share details as she got them. I explained what happened to Corey and our friend Monty who was riding with us to the beach. I felt awful. Andrew and I were growing apart before this happened and I had made up in my mind that I was going to breakup with him. And then…he dies!?
I decided to go to the beach with my friends because if I was going to grieve, I may as well do it on the beach. I spent the entire beach day in waves of tears. It was awkward for everyone, so I stayed off to myself, watching the waves and clouds, wondering what Andrew’s last moments were like, staring at that last cryptic message he sent me: “It won’t happen again.” I was a wreck.
Before next week, I’ll go ahead and ease your pain: the man is not dead. Check back for details on the full mess next Friday.