Bree’s Personal Tea: ’12 Bonnie & Clyde [Part 2]

WARNING: Part Two is lengthy. I should have broken it down into three parts, but I knew you all wouldn’t have liked that too much. Grab three tea cups and a handkerchief.

Let’s jump back into it.

’12 Bonnie & Clyde: Part 2

I spent the rest of my weekend sulking.

After the incident, I locked myself in my car, crying and wheezing with agony, while I fumbled with my phone.

I dialed Ms. Les’s number. I felt like she would know what to say to calm me down. After all, our relationship did become greater ever since I stopped by the house.

“Hey, Britt.” She answered the phone warmly.

I sniffled a couple of times before I could gather my words to speak.  “Hey, Ms. Les.”

“Uh uh. What’s wrong? Talked to Twan today?”

I wiped my tears repeatedly with my right hand. “Unfortunately.”

“What does that mean? Why are you crying, baby girl?”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before I explained to her the unfortunate chain of events that lead to our demise. I wasn’t his Bonnie anymore. He didn’t need me to ride for him, because he thought I was riding someone else. My heart broke over and over again as I ran the whole evening through my head, trying to figure out what could I have done to keep my man cool, calm, and most of all, concealed with me.

“Girl, it’s gonna be alright. All the boy does is talk about you.” Ms. Les replied, trying to soothe my sorrows.

“Ms.Les, I think it’s really over. I freaked it all up and-“

“Stop crying. You didn’t freak nothing up. He’s crazy about you so of course he was going to react. I know my son. He wants you, and that’s it. Period.” She stated sternly.

I quickly got my act together and tried to look at things on the bright side.

But nothing could honestly cheer me up until him and I speak again.

Would he ever call? Would he ever let his anger go? Would we make it as a couple?

But I had to grow up quick.

I have to hold my own shit.


I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

“Bye Momma, I love you.” I kissed my momma on the cheek before boarding the bus that would take me back to Orlando. Spring semester of my Freshman year would be starting in the morning, so I needed to get my mind right ASAP.

I sat in the window seat towards the front of the bus, wondering if I would hear from Twan. The rest of my weekend was sour, and I tried my best to disguise my sadness from my family.

I closed my eyes, attempting to shut myself off from my reality, and stuck my headphones into both ears, pulling up some Jay-Z to drown things out with.

My phone buzzed against my thigh, abruptly interrupting my musical session.

It was Twan.

I prayed that my phone would cooperate and let me answer the call. As soon as I got it to answer, I quickly pressed one so I could be connected to the call. I was anxious to hear from my baby, and I wanted to utilize the precious ten minutes we had in the right way.

“Twan, let me explain the other night.” I said quickly. I bit my lip hard because I honestly did not know what to expect from him or this conversation.

“Naw, let me go. You know, I do a lot of thinking in this hell hole. You understand why I was angry, right?”

“Yes, I can see why from your point of view.” I bit the inside of my cheek because my nerves would not stay into place.

“But I was wrong for calling you out of your name. For calling you dumb. And I apologize for that.”

I sighed. “And I’m sorry for the way shit went down. You gotta understand that I meant what I said that night. I said I was gonna ride, and I said I was gonna hold it down. You have to believe what I’m telling you. I know you’re trust is all fucked up, but Twan, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it.”

“I know, baby. I was so upset until I had time to actually think about the whole situation.”

“Yeah, I bet.” I rubbed my forehead. “I even called your momma…”

He chuckled. “She told me. Your actions keep proving things to me, lil mama. I like it.”

I scoffed. “You don’t have a choice.” I smiled. “Let’s not go through this no more, aiight?”

“It’s done, boo. Let’s keep pushing.”

We wrapped our phone conversations with everything filled with hugs and kisses and we were back on track.

I had my man back.

Funny how a dude locked up could have so much effect on your life on the outside.


I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

Spring semester began with a bang, for reasons that you could tell.

It wouldn’t be long before I had to return to Miami. I was in my cousin Faith’s wedding.

And that was the same weekend he was released.

“Girl, I gotta GO!” I snatched my suitcase out of my dorm as my roommate Khay watched me, showing all 32 teeth.

“Girl, have fun in your cousin’s wedding. But have more fun with ya man.” Khay smirked.

“Girl, stop!” I shook my index fingers from side to side. “I’m just excited to see him.” I beamed.

“Girl, I know it. I see how you light up every time he calls you. Now get going before you miss the damn bus.” Khay instructed.

I got the rest of my things and headed to the area on campus where the bus would come get us college kids who were riding down South for the weekend.

This was going to be good.

I jumped into my whip (my momma didn’t allow me to take my car with me during my Freshman year) and sped off to Twan’s house. He had just got out the other night, and nothing was stopping me from seeing my main squeeze and my only lover.

I damn near slammed my hand into the door, trying to get myself and my purse out the car before running onto Twan’s porch.

He met me at the door and my big ol butt hopped right into his arms. Now, Twan wasn’t the biggest dude, but his ass must have been working out to carry all this thickness on me.

I kissed him for what seemed like an eternity, until I realized that we were hooting and hollering all in front of his mom.

“Hey, Britt. Nice to see you’re back in town.” She chuckled.

“I’m sorry, Ms.Les. I thought you were in the room.” I covered my face.

“Child, please.” She said swaying me off. “Yall get in here.”

“Hi, sugar.” I whispered to him as we held hands walking into the house.

“Baby cakesssss.” He turned around and gave me yet another bear hug. It felt good to be in my dude’s arms again. It felt good to feel nothing but love in the room. It felt good not to be cussing, fussing, and being angry. It felt good to be mellowed out from that good love you were feeling, and that greater love you were receiving.

It was good.

We were good.

For now.

My cousin Faith’s wedding was tight! I was probably the crunkest bridesmaid there. I was able to see him one more time after the reception, because I would be leaving for Orlando the next day.

We got into another argument that night, surprisingly. I guess the love I was spewing wasn’t enough to last us one weekend.

Ladies, you know how you run and tell your girlfriends about every argument you have with your dude?

Well, shit, let’s just say some of my closest girlfriends had enough.

“If you’re so unhappy now, Britt, you need to leave him.”

“That’s preposterous.” I would say and always shrug it off.


“What couple doesn’t argue?” I would always say to myself.

Until things got unhealthy.

I fought and fought with Twan until we couldn’t fight anymore.

Back in Miami, he told me that he had to go to court the next week.

He then told me that there was a possibility that he could get locked up if things didn’t go well.

“Damn, I gotta go through this shit again?”

And here I was, almost two weeks later, doing it all over again.


 I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

I was Bonnie again.

Going through it this time around was rough. It was the beginning of a new semester, I just got my first work study job, balancing 5 classes, and then balancing my social and personal life.

I continued to hold Twan down cause at that point, that’s all I knew how to do.

That’s all I needed to do.

It’s what I had to do.

But in the process of doing it, I had a heap of drama follow me.

My good friend who I referred to as my diary, Cookie, called me up one evening because she was concerned about me. The conversation got ugly because she urged me that I was changing, that this relationship with Twan was toxic, and that I was “fighting for someone who didn’t give a fuck about me”.

Our friendship was soon on the line when I seen that I no longer had her support. We switched our conversation from the phone to ooVoo, and I seen that she was almost in tears. Cookie tried to plead that I could do better, and that I should not put my life on hold for him.

I was pretty sure that I lost Cookie that night as a friend, because I was going to hold my man down.

And Cookie wasn’t the only one who picked a fight about Twan and I. My best friend at the time, Breezy, told me the same thing. See, me, Cookie, and Breezy rolled together way back since high school. We all split up, but we remained tight.

I can’t lie, not having their support in my relationship made me tight. But I had other friends who had my back, who wiped my tears, and consoled me when the days and nights got rough.

But I knew what I wanted to do.

I was gonna keep riding for Twan.

I knew he was riding for me.

I was 18 doing the damn thing.


I spent my days writing in a journal that I knew I would eventually give to him, because writing letters was just too slow. I would sometimes go to sleep with his letters in my hand because it made me feel closer to him.

I was tired of arguing with other people about my relationship. I got tired of Quad calling my phone asking for a second chance and quizzing me about my new relationship.

What you thought this was, play play?

I’m telling you, having a relationship with someone who’s incarcerated is one of the most difficult things two people can do.

I couldn’t quit and I wouldn’t. If no one supported me, I didn’t give a damn. If it was going to be me and my man against the world, then I dared anyone to bring it.

I was 18 and doing the damn thing.


My relationship with Twan still wasn’t publicized, because I didn’t want people in my business.

Until one day I was miserably in my feelings, and decided to post a picture of him and I on my Twitter page. All I said was “Free him.”

Not even 10 minutes later, someone retweeted my tweet.

It was a girl who we will address as Candace.

I didn’t know who the hell she was, and why she retweeted my tweet.

It then began to concern me.

I decided to search his Twitter @ name, to see if anyone else has been tweeting about him.

And to my surprise, I froze at what I found.

It was Keisha.

It was Ariel.

It was Dricka.

It was Kierra.

It was Shanti.

It was Quanny.

All of these females were tweeting like me.

“Free my baby Twan!”

“And I’ll love him till the death of me…”

“I’ll ride for my n*gga…”

“Free my man”

“Me & him against the world….”

I was vexed as my heart started to beat out of my chest. My eyes started to well up from the back of my sockets and my hands were slowly curled into a fist.

Was this boy playing me all along?

I had been done this road before, but nothing like this, dawg.

This chick Ariel was posting pictures of my man daily.

I wanted to get to the bottom of everything. I quickly dialed his number and remembered that he wouldn’t answer.

I took a walk outside my dorm to cool my nerves. I had to keep it together until he called me.

And then I would let his ass have it.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” I tried to sound as calm as possible.

“No, baby girl. What’s wrong?”

“You got these chicks on Twitter talking about you like yall together. Who is Candace? Ariel? Kierra?” I interrogated him.

He sighed. “Dawg, Ariel is my ex. I don’t know why she tryna claim me like that. That was way before you, Britt.”

“Yeah, fuck that. Who is Candace? She was bold enough to retweet a picture I posted of you and I.” I started to pace up and down the sidewalk outside my dorm.

“Candace is my ex too. I won’t lie, I was talking to her a little before I started talking to you.”

I inhaled sharply. “So why do they feel comfortable to post this shit about you? How do they even know you in here? You were running your mouth when you got out the first time?”

“Yo, my homeboys must have mentioned it. Kierra is my dawg I went to high school with. She was always with the affectionate shit, calling me baby and shit. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

And I swear if I could choke you now, I would.

“You got me out here looking dumb.” I stated sternly.

“C’mon, yo. Really? Ain’t nobody been riding for me but you and my momma. Ain’t nobody been giving me money but you and my momma.”

“And I put money on this fucking account to talk to your stupid ass. Nobody but me and your damn momma.” I snapped.

You have one minute remaining.

I sucked my teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. This is where all that frustration is coming from.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” I spat.

“Britt, chill out. On my granddaddy soul, you have nothing to worry about. Swear.”

“I ain’t doing this shit for nothing, Twan. This shit is for you and me.”

“Keep riding, baby. I got you, and you damn sure got me. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I muttered.

Your call has ended.


I was 18 and doing the damn thing.


It was Spring Break, baby.

And my baby was getting out.

For good.

I was back in Miami, getting ready to meet Ms. Les so we could go get him together.

I was the first face he seen when he walked out with his normal clothes on, holding a brown paper bag, probably filled with more letters, raps, and drawings.

I didn’t care that he was fresh out; I smacked my lips on his and took in the love I once used to feel.

We were back this time. I could feel it.

We had a welcome home party for him back at the house. Before we left the jail, he gave me the brown paper bag, and told me to bring it to the house for him.

I didn’t think anything of it, so I did just that.

As the bag was riding in the backseat, I started to wonder what was exactly in there. I knew it was just papers, so I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind.

We all had a great time welcoming Twan back home, and we had some great food to go with it. His family was super cool, and they liked me more than I expected them too. Throughout everything, his 9 year old little sister became my little sister. She would call me for “boy advice”, and whenever I came home, we always went to lunch and got our nails done. She was truly my baby girl.

The next day was Twan’s birthday.

And of course, we had another get together at the house. More good food, more family time, more memories to be made.

And boy, did I make the best memory.

While Twan was in the shower, I sat on his bed, just reflecting on how things were on the up & up. He had his box fan circulating cool breeze onto my face and through my hair.

I glanced over at the brown paper bag that he gave me yesterday when he got out. I turned my head for one second, and the air from the box fan literally made the bag tip over, and all the paper contents that were in the bag, fell out everywhere.

I reluctantly got off the bed and picked up one of the sheets of paper.

It was a phone number list. My name was at the top, with my phone number next to it.

Then it was Candace, and her number.

Then Keisha.

Then Ariel.

Then Dricka.

Then Kierra.

Then Shanti.

Then Quanny.

I gritted my teeth as my heart started to flutter.

I threw that paper down and reached for another.

“Dear Candace… I miss you so much baby.”


And another.

“Candace, there’s not a minute that goes by that I ain’t thinking of your sexy ass. You’ve been holding me down since the get go, and we ain’t going nowhere.”


And another.

And another.

And another. Hell, he wrote me and Candace the same exact letter.

My body filled with rage as I pondered if I was gonna snap in Ms. Les’s house or cool off and wait for the perfect time. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Cookie was right. Breezy was right.

I messed up some real shit with my girls for this?

I was looking foolish and idiotic in these streets because of this?

I nearly lost myself because of this?

When he came in, I nearly slapped the taste out his mouth with a letter he wrote to Candace.

“What the hell!” He yelled.

“I trusted you! Candace, huh? Ariel, huh? You fucking BITCH!” I damn near lost my voice just uttering those two curse words.

“Bruh, its not-“

“SHUT UP! With your stupid ass phone list!” I shoved it in his face. “THIS is why you ain’t call me for FIVE DAMN DAYS! Solitary confinement MY ASS! Calling these other hoes! Calling Candace! You two timing motherfucker!” I bopped him in his chest and started to leave.

I fought my tears as I gathered my belongings and threw them into my purse. I kept fighting him off as he tried to grab me despite my rampant anger.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Les! I’m so sorry I disrespected your house.” I tried to sound sincere with my now hoarse voice and stormed out the door.

“What happened?!” She exclaimed.

I cried hysterically as I drove to a destination that I can’t even remember. But it felt like I was driving for days. Mascara stained on my face, nothing but pain in my eyes. My hands began to throb because I kept punching the steering wheel. I started hitting everything, even myself a few times, for being stupid and wasting all this damn time.

I wasn’t Bonnie.

I was stupid.

I hated him, and I hated myself.

I became a dark and bitter person after the breakup with Twan. Despite his constant phone calls, I hated what he did to me. I can honestly say I hated him.

A once happy and joyful soul was turned ugly and cold.

It got so bad, that one of my closest friends, Ray, urged me to go to counseling.

After many attempts of refusing her suggestions, I went.

For months.

I had to rebuild myself up again. I let someone not even worth loving me, break me into pieces. What I once saw as beautiful was ugly and cut up like a broken mirror.

What am I supposed to do with this heart?


Months went by, and I was back to being the young lady I knew.

Pain changed me. I was stronger, but I wasn’t dumb.

I couldn’t forgive Twan for anything.  You couldn’t pay me to say “I forgive you.”

It was fuck Twan, all day today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Even though I was well, whenever someone brought him up, it was easy for me to turn into a negative soul.

Until on Thanksgiving, he tweeted me that he missed me.

How petty of me to screen shot it, sneer at it, and post on my Instagram account, just to take it down hours later.

Not even a week later, I was in class with my friend Rie, who is also from Miami, when she mentioned that someone from back home got shot and killed.

“Girl, who?” I asked.

“Hold on, let me see if someone posted his photo on Instagram.”

Not even two minutes later, I got five text messages from friends asking me if I’m okay.

I was puzzled to say the least.

“Here he is. His name is Twan.”

She showed me her phone and there it was.

Twan had been murdered the night before.

I never forgave him while he was alive.

But when it hit me, I wished to God that I did.

I failed almost all of my finals that semester, but still managed to pass my classes.

The guilt took over my soul.

I cried for what seemed like an eternity.

I was so ashamed to call Ms. Les and asked what happened. It had been many months since we talked.

Twan was shot three times and left on the street for dead.

Someone wanted him dead. And I had no clue or details about who would want this and why.

And it tore me up inside.

And it ate at me every single day.

I decided that I needed closure. I needed to be there for his family.

I traveled back to Miami for the funeral, and Katia accompanied me to the viewing that night and the funeral the next day.

I nearly lost my mind when I seen him. I cried until I drooled, and I shouted until I was hoarse. My head began to throb and I wanted to pass out.

I gathered enough courage to stand over him and look at him peacefully sleep.

I talked to him for what seemed like hours, and for the first time, I finally told him.

“I forgive you.”


How do you forgive someone who’s already dead?


I saw Candace for the first time at the funeral. Of course, she was just as upset and torn up as me.

You see, after Twan and I broke up, they were still together. He admitted to me through text message that September that he cheated on Candace with me, and broke up with Candace, just to cheat on me with her.

I knew she knew.

We glanced at each other for a couple of seconds, and no words were spoken.

Only through our eyes.

I see her on Instagram. We follow each other delightfully. I have no issues with her.

We both had got played.

Twan was my last relationship.

Twan was my joy.

Twan was my pain.

And through it all, I thank God for him, and all the lessons he provided me.

After all…I’m able to share this story with you.

Take what you will from it.

Pain changed me. Pain made me learn. Pain made me love. Pain made me hurt.

But, pain…Pain gave me strength. Pain provides lessons.

I left my Bonnie persona with the snapback hat that was tucked into his coffin.

I was a new, young woman.

And this was the demise of the ’12 Bonnie & Clyde.

Love your loved ones. Forgive the ones you loved.

Don’t let the embalmment fluid beat you to reality.

I’ve spilled a great amount of raw and sweltering tea tonight. I will be taking just next week off. I am in my cousin’s wedding that I am too amped about, and I want to give everyone a chance to catch up with all of my posts.

I’ll be back during the week of October 5th.

Sip slow 🙂


2 thoughts on “Bree’s Personal Tea: ’12 Bonnie & Clyde [Part 2]

  1. Tavia says:

    That was lengthy girl! But it was definitely worth the read. They are so many lessons that was portrayed throughout this post, which I’ll try to address a few. First you know what “love” can do to us as humans, It engulfs our entire mind we are oftentimes blind to everything and actions from the person we say we love. It’s like cleaning the bathroom and spraying all those detergents. We know we should let it air out before cleaning but we still remain in the bathroom. Being so engulfed showed you your true friends. They were in your life for a reason to be that support system when you don’t want to relate what’s going on deep down to family members. They saw what you never saw but you were so engulfed in your relationship you couldn’t see a thing.The greatest thing is that you are stronger now and will not be a walk over to guys that come in your track because some girls in that situation at the age of 18 would completely loose it being that there so vulnerable at such age in regards to “relationship ” and ” love” . I wanna write so many things right now but my train of thought so jumbled with all the lessons that is in this one post. Let us always consider our actions in every circumstance people will judge you, try to tear you down because you have been with someone that was incarcerated but who are they to judge ? you knew what you felt inside and in the end you knew the hurt after you open that paper bag hence you had the right to react they way you did. But never let our anger get in the way of forgiving someone because we’ll never know the minute they’ll slip out of our life’s.

    • Tavia, thank you for this comment! Many of your points match with my knowledge- I like that! Would love to exchange more wisdom with you. Continuing, love is blind. Literally. Seeing past what you think is there is probably the hardest step, but the most needed step to take. Your point about m being stronger now compared to other girls who could have been 18 in my situation is very valid. Pain is the best medicine. I loved him, but I loved myself more. I’m glad I was able to get out of that dark place when he first passed away, and most importantly, I learned how to forgive myself. Experience is the best teacher, always. Thank you for reading and commenting, Tavia. Let’s chat more often. Keep sipping ❤️

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