Mixed Signals
Marcus sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. Three missed calls from Kiara, two texts that said “call me back,” and one that just said “please.” He’d been here before—too many times to be exact.
The apartment felt bigger when she wasn’t around, but smaller when she was suffocating him with her back-and-forth nonsense. Hot and cold. Need me, don’t need me. Love me, leave me alone.
His phone vibrated again. Kiara.
“What?” he answered, in a hostile way.
“Don’t ‘what’ me, Marcus. You know why I’m calling.”
“Nah, I really don’t. Last week you told me you needed space. Said I was ‘too much’ and you had other plans . So I gave you space. Now you blowing up my phone like I owe you something.”
Silence on the other end. Then that familiar sigh—the one that meant she was about to give him a piece of her mind.
“That’s not… that’s not what I meant.” Kiara said.
“Then what did you mean, Ki? Because I’m tired of trying to read your mind. I’m tired of being your emotional support when you’re down, your entertainment when you’re bored, and your punching bag when you’re stressed.”
“It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that.” Marcus stood up, pacing the small space between his dresser and the window. “You want me around when you need something. When your car breaks down, when you’re fighting with your mom, when you’re lonely at 2 AM. But the second I need something from you, or the second you got what you wanted, it’s ‘Marcus, I need my space’ or ‘Marcus, you’re being too clingy.’”
“That’s not fair.” Kiara replied.
“What’s not fair is you playing with my feelings like I’m some kind of toy you can pick up and put down whenever you feel like it.” His voice cracked slightly. “You think I don’t have feelings? You think I don’t get confused when you kiss me goodbye one day and act like I don’t exist the next?”
Another pause. He could hear her breathing, could practically see her sitting in her car or on her couch, trying to figure out how to manipulate the situation back in her favor.
“I don’t know what I want, okay?” she finally said, her voice irritated.
“See, that’s the problem right there. You don’t know what you want, but you expect me to just be available whenever you figure it out. That’s not how this works, Ki. That’s not how any of this works.”
“So what are you saying?”
Marcus looked at himself in the mirror across the room. Dark circles under his eyes from too many sleepless nights wondering where he stood with her. Shoulders tense from carrying the weight of a relationship that only existed when it was convenient for her.
“I’m saying pick one. Either you want me in your life or you don’t. Either we’re together or we’re not. Either you’re my girl or you’re not. But this wishy-washy shit? This hot and cold, maybe yes maybe no bullshit? I’m done with it.”
“Marcus—” Kiara shouted.
“Nah, let me finish. You got me out here looking stupid, thinking I did something wrong every time you switch up. Got me second-guessing myself, wondering if I’m too much or not enough. You got me confused about my own feelings because you can’t figure out yours.”
His reflection stared back at him, and for the first time in months, he saw clarity in his own eyes.
“I deserve better than your wishy washyness. I deserve someone who knows they want me around. Not someone who treats me like a convenience store—only coming to me when you need something.”
“I do want you around,” she said quietly.
“When it’s convenient for you. When you’re not ‘overwhelmed’ or ‘figuring things out’ or whatever excuse you’re using this week.” He shook his head. “I’m not a backup plan, Ki. I’m not your safety net. I’m a whole person with my own feelings and my own life.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because the way you treat me says otherwise. The way you disappear for days and then expect me to drop everything when you’re ready to talk again says otherwise.”