A Black Woman (Book 2)

And I Can't Find My Heart

I haven't seen him in person since we were twenty-one...since we broke up a month after I made that horrible...and beautiful decision.

It's painful to look at him right now across from me. I don't know what to say. I look up and over and away from and fiddle with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. When I finally speak, I'm looking at the large fake plant situated yards away from us next to one of the two side entrances of the store. My lips move and my eyes trace the reddish brown ceramic tiles of the floor around the plant, "Yeah...awkward."

The walls are the yellow of crusted over mustard at the spout of a mustard bottle.

"It's so good to see you," his rich voice reaches my ears as his hand reaches to grasp my hand—laboriously and insanely tugging at the end of my sleeve—and it's a shock I'm not ready to feel again.

I can't ignore him anymore with his hand and voice on me. I can't ignore him with this desire pulsing through me—this love pulsing through me.

The rich brown of his hand looks so good on top of mine—moving around the back of it—slowly and deliberately drawing out that damn delicious tingle—over my knuckles to clasp my small hand and delicately hold it in his large brown one.

My mouth has been opening and closing all the while, so when I look up at him this desire pulsing through me from the warmth of his hand all over and around me, it's open slightly...separated to utter something I haven't thought of saying, "It's g-good to see you, too."

And that smile, oh that crooked smile of his, so different and imperfect compared to Jamal's, is enough to make me want to jump over the table and close the space that's kept us apart for three years. I want to throw my arms around him and scream, "I. LOVE. YOU."

But the reason we broke up was because I withdrew inside myself after I lost my virginity, and he didn't have the patience to wait for me to be ok again.

I washed his starter locs and massaged his scalp with oil. I played with fire too many times. I eked something out of him I wasn't ready to deal with.

He broke up with YOU.

Don't be desperate.

As he's holding my hand with that wide smile conjuring up good and bad emotions, a tell-tale ding from the old brass bell above one of Timmy Chan's double doors signals the entrance of someone. Instinctively, I look over because the doors are a few spaced square tables away from us, and I'm confused at what I see: a girl, as tall as me, yet skinny, lighter than me by a few shades, with a head full of long natural hair curly to my kinky staring at Malik's back and then me, with wide and then narrow eyes, "Malik?"

*snap*

As quick as you can flick on a light and snap your fingers, he pulls his hand away from mine and turns around in the booth, "Yeah? You said you didn't wanna come in" is his calm response to her icy "Malik"

I retract my hand and pull both into my lap beneath the table. Rejection curls at the bottom of my belly. My heart pings in my chest, and I stare at her unabashedly, he has a girl?

She walks and talks simultaneously. Her little body looks so delicate and feminine wrapped in a fitted white sweater, skinny jeans, and thigh high black boots. Her teeth flash white light when she speaks, "The CD guy kept messing with me," her soft lilt voice is pleasant now, and when she flashes those white teeth at me in a friendly smile that crinkles her elf nose, it's friendlier than before, "Hey, I'm Crystal."

"My bad, come sit down," and he slides out the booth and stands aside while she slides in and then he's beside her and they look like the perfect couple. A perfect match.