A Thin Line Between Love and Hate
By: Corey B. King
Tags: Domestic Violence, Police Reform, BlackLivesMatter, Short Fiction, Black Women

A Thin Line Between Love and Hate

“So you are not going to do anything?” I was slowly getting more pissed by the minute. Here I was trying to lodge a formal complaint against my stalker ex-boyfriend, and this guy was staring me down like I had two foreheads or something.

“Ms. Thomas,” I don’t see anything that he has done. Maybe called you a few too many times, but that is no different than a telemarketer. I need to see a history of threatening behavior or some indication of your life being in danger.” This is the response from the desk sergeant who is taking my statement. This guy looks about nine months pregnant, with twins, teeth badly stained from cigarettes and years of coffee drinking, and looks like the type of man who hasn’t had a woman since Clinton was in office, the first term. For guys like him, women are probably only good enough for the few moments of pleasure that he can muster up, which is why he is not taking me seriously.

“So I am supposed to wait until he actually kills me, and then have my ghost come down to the station and apply for a restraining order?” I massaged my throbbing temples to try to diffuse the headache that was creeping up and also to keep myself from reaching across the desk and wrapping that much too short tie, around his fat, almost nonexistent neck.

“Don’t think we are not taking you seriously Ms. Thomas. Just keep documenting your interactions with Mr. um….”

“Troy, Troy Davis.”

“Yeah, Mr. Davis.

“We really are sorry,” answered his much younger and better looking partner, Mr. Tall Glass of Chocolate Milk.” His badge said Officer H. Rogers, and I am guess the H stood for handsome, because he was. I am talking pearly white teeth, milk chocolate skin, nice, chiseled cheekbones, and long, manicured fingers. Did I mention that he has big feet? But who am I kidding? I am trying to get away from a crazy stalker, the last thing I need to do is divert my attention to someone who was maybe a stalker as well. Although something tells me that as fine as Officer Rogers is, he is probably the one getting stalked.

I lunged my Michael Kors purse over my shoulders and roll my eyes at both of them to signal my disgust. All of my tax dollars paying their salaries, and I basically get treated like I am a hypochondriac, but in the legal sense.

I walk to my car, prepared to just get in and drive home, but guess who is leaning against the hood smiling like a Cheshire cat?

“What are you doing here?” After that interchange in the police station and now faced with the very problem I was trying to rid myself of, my anger was a level 10.

“The question is, what are you doing here? Is somebody bothering you bae?”

“I am not your bae, baby, or any other variation of the word. Yes, somebody is bothering me, and that somebody is you!”

“Why you got to be like that? You wouldn’t answer your cell, so I decided to follow you.”

“Do you know how deranged that sounds? Especially, since you are not my boyfriend anymore, and I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Get a clue!”

“You are just mad right now. Once you have had the opportunity to calm down, you will see things my way.”

Is this lunatic actually listening to himself?

“I am going to give you five seconds to disengage yourself from my car, or else I am walking back into that police station and getting the restraining order that I couldn’t get before.”

“Restraining order? You are going to put the white man on the brotha?”

“Don’t try that brotha crap with me. You need help, several intense sessions on a couch with a therapist.”

“No, what I need are a few sessions between your thighs.” He looked as if he had just solved the Pythagorean Theorem while holding his penis, and licking his lips, as opposed to saying something highly ignorant and offensive.

I turned on my heels, and indicated that I was about to make good on my threat. He held his hands up.

“Truce?”

“No, truce! I want you to leave me alone!”

“I just love you so much, and can’t imagine my life without you”

“Well, imagine it, because we are done!”

“Just give me one more chance.”

“No”

“After all that we have been to each other, that is all I get? A one word response, which is supposed to end four years of happiness.”

“I don’t know what relationship that you were in, but the one that ended for me three months ago, was anything but happy, since my boyfriend is a stalker.”

“That’s kinda harsh.”

“Well, what do you call being told repeatedly to leave someone alone? Or calling multiple times a day, after I don’t pick up the first time? Or following me around town, when I have told you that it creeps me out?”

“Love.”

“Excuse me?”

“I call it love,”

“You are sick! I mean it, you need serious, professional help.”

He was now standing on the passenger side door, and I used this opportunity to unlock the driver’s side and let myself in. I immediately started the engine, which he used as an opportunity to lean against the passenger’s side.

“Either move, or you are about to be road kill.” I didn’t even give him the energy or courtesy of rolling down my window, just shouted as loud as I could.

“You wouldn’t do that. You love me too much!”

I put the car in reverse, and started to pull out of my parking space. Some people can’t be told, so they have to be shown!

I guess Mr. Clueless finally got a clue, because Troy almost stumbled, as his whisked himself away from the passenger side of my car at the last possible second.

Tears streamed down my face, and I don’t know if it was anger over being accosted in the police station parking lot, of all places, or sadness over what used to be.

Troy was my first, not my first sexual experience, but at least my first boyfriend and first love. We had met at N.C. A&T my freshman year. I was a shy church girl away from home, alone for the first time, and Troy was the nerdy boy who always aced our Biology exams, so I figured he would be an excellent study partner and could help me raise my D plus average in the class.

Over time, with my grade improving, I noticed that something else improved and changed: my feelings for Troy. I loved his intense love for science, how much he respected me (He always opened doors, walked on the outside of the sidewalk when we trekked across campus, and brought me chicken noodle soup when the flu made me bedridden for a week during my sophomore year.

But he turned into a Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde routine that I didn’t recognize during my junior year. It started with his dad being robbed and murdered by two local thugs. He was at first depressed and despondent. Then he became clingy. He would call me no less than twenty or more times when I was away from him, leaving countless voicemails.

Whenever I returned his call or saw him in person later, there was a huge interrogation about where I was, who I was with, and why I had not responded to his phone calls.

After a year of this, he started just magically showing up where I was, and became incensed when I told him to stop following me. He just shrugged and said it was his right as my boyfriend.

When I took the walk across the stage to receive my degree, I decided that I needed to make another life altering change: ending my relationship with my emotionally damaged, controlling boyfriend.

That was three months ago, and my life has been a living hell ever since. Constant telephone calls, text messages, showing up unexpectedly had become my life now. Troy started out with the begging and pleading, then came the crying, and then he became my shadow. He had never actually threatened me, but he had threatened to harm himself, if I didn’t get back with him.

I was over it. I was tired of looking over my shoulder. I wanted to feel safe again, like a whole person, and not this caricature of who I once was, which is why I tried to file the order of protection with Greensboro’s Finest aka Greensboro’s let me sit on my fat ass and collect my salary and pension, while the criminals run the asylum.

I pulled into my apartment complex, sure Troy wasn’t far behind since he had consistently been my shadow over the past three months. To my surprise, he wasn’t in the vicinity. Maybe almost making him road kill, and threatening further legal action, were the wake up calls he needed to get it together.

I immediately locked my door, dead bolt and regular lock, as soon as I was safely inside my apartment. It was time to think about what tonight’s dinner would be. I wasn’t hungry, but recognized that I needed to eat, but did not have the energy to prepare anything, so take out it was!

I pulled out my Pizza Hut coupons that I received from last delivery order, and pulled out my cell phone to make the call. Before I could dial, there was a strong knock on my door. Damn! Could I least get a few moments peace? My car was probably not even cool yet from my trek to the police station, and already Troy was at it again.

I looked through the peephole, prepared for a back and forth war of words, but to my surprise it was Officer Deep Chocolate aka Officer Rogers was standing at my door. I breathed a sigh of relief, teased my hair, licked my lips…wait a minute…was I acting like I was expecting a date? Well, a girl had to always look her best! I slowly and cautiously undid the locks and opened my door.

“Officer Rogers….what can I help you with?,” I stammered, part nervous, and the other part excited. It is not every day a woman gets a visit from a male suitor and a divinely good looking one at that.

“Sorry to drop by announced Ms. Thomas. I can’t stop thinking about you since you left the station.” Mr. Dark Chocolate uttered all of this in about five seconds flat, so he was just as nervous and confused as I was.

“Um, what I mean is, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said for extra clarification, while averting any eye contact with me.

“No, I am not okay, “ I said, being as honest as I could, but with a lot less attitude than I had given him and his partner at the station.

“May, I come in?”

I step aside and allowed him to enter my apartment, while making a point to reset all the locks on my door.

“Whoa, you must be really terrified of your ex, which is why I am here. I know it doesn’t seem like we were taking you seriously, but with a manpower shortage, old school cops with male chauvinist thinking, I couldn’t overrule my partner.”

“I am really afraid. I think he may do something to me, or at least to himself.”

“I can tell. It’s just beyond telephone calls, we don’t have any proof, and so my superiors won’t do anything. I am so sorry.”

I could tell that he was just by the sheepish look that he gave me, and the genuine concern that showed on his face.

“Which brings me to the other reason, why I am here. Would you like to go out with me some time?”

“Huh?” I was attracted to him and all, I mean what woman wouldn’t be, but I was definitely not trying to date him, while I had another nutcase that I was trying to get rid of.

“I know it doesn’t seem appropriate, but I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were when you came in the station. This is not something that I normally do, but I work so many hours at the station, and I don’t have much time for socializing, and well, you are just amazing.”

“You don’t know me,” I said. After dealing with Troy’s crazy ass, I was not about to get myself into the same situation.

“But I want to know you. We can at least have dinner or lunch, and see where things go.”

“I don’t know about that. You could be crazy, or a stalker, or even worse than what I am dealing with right now.”

“I could be, but you will never know until you take a chance.”

I had to admit that he had a point. He was fine. He was an officer of the law. I was single. What more did we need? It was just lunch or dinner. I did need to start moving on. I did deserve to allow myself the chance at happiness.

“Okay, I will have lunch with you on several conditions.”

“Shoot”

“I have to pick the place. I will not travel alone with you in your car, so I will have to meet you there. Once the date is over, we go our separate ways, and you have to allow me to make the next move, if there is one.”

“Deal.”

He seemed agreeable enough, and sane enough, but so did Troy until he bottomed out.

“So I will meet you at Bravo’s tomorrow at 12 noon.” It is a little Italian eatery in Friendly Shopping Center.”

“I know where it is. I am a cop remember?” He smiled at me, and his dimples showed, and I felt little butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

“Well, I guess I need to head back to the station. Let me know if you have anymore trouble between now and then, or if you just want to talk,” he said as he gave me his business card, with his personal cell scribbled on the back.

“Thank you,” it wasn’t an appropriate response, but it was all I could muster at the time. My head was swimming from the totality of the day’s events.

He headed toward the front door, and I immediately set all of the locks behind him.

What had just happened here? I have a deranged stalker, but yet I had just accepted a date from a man. What if he was a stalker? What if Troy became more dangerous? What if he tried to mess up what I had or was trying to build with Officer Rogers? So many questions, but before I could even think of answering any of them, there was another knock on my door.

Figuring that Officer Rogers was coming back since our conversation ended so abrupt and awkward, I undid the locks and opened the door, and to my shock and horror, it wasn’t Officer Rogers, but my worst nightmare, Troy!

“What are you doing here?,” I was trying to sound forceful, but I was visibly shaken.

“I came to see my baby,”Troy answered, while flashing a smile at the same time.

Before I could tell him to get lost, or call for backup, he bulldozed his way into my apartment, almost knocking me to the ground in the process.

“I didn’t ask you to come in,” I hissed.

“You didn’t have to. I’m your man, so this is my place too.”

“Troy, you are not my man, or anything else to me, beside a pain in my ass.”

“So is that why you accepted a lunch invitation from that punk ass cop?”

“How did you…?” I was totally floored that he knew that Officer Rogers and I had made lunch plans. Had he been eavesdropping at my door the whole time?

“I bugged this place, and I have video cameras installed. I can see your every move, hear your every conversation. I must say, I am pissed that you are trying to cheat on me.”

My blood turned to ice, and I knew that I was going to have to do something soon. At least with this latest admission, I had enough ammo to take to the police, to be taken serious, and secure the order of protection I so desperately needed.

“I am not cheating on you, and we are done. Get it through your thick skull.”

“We are not done, until I decide that we are. If I can’t have you, no one else will.”

With that last little declaration, Troy made a move in my direction.

I ran to my kitchen, which was just a few short feet from my living room, and grabbed the steak knife out of my drain board.

“If you come in closer you sick bastard, I will carve you up, like a Thanksgiving turkey. I mean it Troy, don’t press your luck.”

“Aw, your new bravery is so cute. But haven’t you heard, never take a knife to a gun fight?” With those simple, clichéd words, Troy reached into his pocket and brandished a silver 22 caliber pistol. I knew that my life was over, so I did the only thing that I knew how to do. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and lunged at him with the knife. I totally missed him by a mile, lost my balance, and fell to my kitchen floor with a thud.

Troy just responded with this sinister laugh, as he raised the gun to my temple and fired off a round. He bent down and kissed me one final time, as I lay motionless in a pool of my own blood. All I remember was this stabbing pain in my head before my entire world went black!