There were many reasons I wore protective styles. Other than not wanting anything to do with my natural hair, it was simply easier choosing something semi-permanent to sport for three or four weeks, then move onto the next that would save me time and relieve me of a headache and cramped fingers.
Today, rather than have my legs go numb while I sat still getting knotless box braids or passion twists that swept down to my ass, making it a bit unbearable in the summer heat, I chose something completely out of my element and yet modish and simple.
"So, what we thinking?" Denise asked as she spun my chair around to face her mirror. She snapped her fancy schmancy styling cape from around my neck before I slowly stood up and leaned forward to preview my profile.
Just yesterday I took some much-needed time out for myself and visited some of my favorite black women in the city including my esthetician for my monthly facial, my brow lady who cleaned me up something nice and my lash lady who made sure to fill in the blanks around my eyes. It was safe to say thanks to them all, including Denise, I looked exquisite if I should say so myself. I hadn't felt this good nor looked this good in months and I'd like to think I deserved to.
Denise watched from behind me as I marveled at the sleeked down ripples she made with edge control and the help of a brush along my temple. There was not a strand of hair out of place and the parts she carved with her rat tail comb into my scalp were so precise, crafted like geometrics, that for some reason I wondered if Denise was a math whiz. Each section of my hair was placed into long braids that had been twisted and spun into bantu knots sitting perfectly atop of my head.
"I love it!" I gushed as a smile curved along my lips. "You are a lifesaver. Thank you so much for squeezing me into your schedule."
"Oh girl, it ain't nothing but a thang," she assured as I continued to gawk at myself and adjust the waistband of my wide leg tearaway pants. "You're one of my regulars and thanks to you I have four new clients on my roster."
My hands stretched upward and ironed out the kinks in the white cropped tank top lifting from the curves of my torso. "People ask and all I do is tell. I'm not stingy with the deets. Plus your prices don't break pockets and that's what we like."
"I do this for the ladies who want to look cute on a budget, but you miss thang are looking like a million freshly printed dollar bills, okay?! Budget where?" she teased and it immediately had me turning away from her scrutiny in the mirror as I bowed my head bashfully and felt heat rising in my cheeks. I clearly didn't know how to take compliments well. "Seriously, I see you all dolled up today. Who is he?"
I sucked my teeth and walked over to the empty booth beside hers where my Marc Jacobs tote sat. I rummaged through, drawing my lip gloss from a pocket and twisted the cap off.
"Now why must a man be involved?"
"Because we all tend to spice it up above and beyond when there is a fine specimen admiring, assuming he is fine. Did he buy that bag too?" As the bristle of my gloss glided across my lips I playfully rolled my eyes and glanced over my shoulder, finding Denise grinning with her arms folded over her chest. She knew what she was doing and luckily I knew when she was joking. "And what is Prince Charming's government name?"
"Sheesh, D." I chuckled. "You think he's a fraud or something?"
"With the breed of men that stray the Earth like dogs these days, he might. Seriously," she nodded toward my bag. "He's cashing out already?"
"So let's settle this with a no. My sister bought it for me, so call it a pity gift and his name is Landon Daye. We have a lunch date in thirty minutes somewhere a few blocks away. Actually," I tossed the gloss back into my tote and glanced down at my Apple Watch, noting the time. I had to start walking within the next five minutes if I didn't want to be late. "I should probably head out now."
"Ooh, Landon." she let his name slip off her tongue like it was exotic. "Next time you sit in my chair, you better drop some pics."
"I promise I will," I said as I grabbed the crossbody strap of my tote and tossed it over my chest, locking the cotton design to my hip. Denise followed aside me as I walked toward the front door and unlocked my phone, checking for any missed text messages. "I'll let you know when I'll need the hook up again."
"And I will be waiting," she opened the door, allowing me to exit and waved goodbye as I slid my AirPods into my ear and began my trip to BLVD Bistro.
The journey was nothing unusual. Here and there I ducked in between kids playing along the sidewalks, slid between stragglers talking loudly over music playing from a random window above a storefront and ignored the large group of white teenagers in polos and New Balance who looked like they were on a field trip. I shook my head as they gaped around at the diverse, cultured and yet lush scenery of a borough I was growing to love.
My feet paddled against the concrete, each stride in sync with Mary J. Blige's unique and delicately raspy tone that sang the lovely lyrics written by Lauryn Hill, assisted by a Lauryn Hill production. All That I Can Say made me want to be booed up with someone's son in the summertime, precisely. It made me confident that intimacy as pure as what she sang in the first verse alone existed and was tangible for a girl like me, all until the song ended of course. But just for these particular five minutes and thirty-one seconds and a little bit beyond, I'd envisioned what this date with Landon could later bring. I allowed myself to become open to the possibility of him being the next man I revealed my wildest dreams to, shared my sacred space with and dare I say my innermost thoughts and darkest secrets. I entertained the idea of what a love without limitations and conditions from him looked like, felt like, hell, even smelled like. I hoped that it would be all around transcending, almost like an out of body experience.
I kept my head in a cloud until the brownstone turned casual-chic restaurant came into view and from the glass of the front door I spotted Landon scanning the street with his hands nervously caressing each other. I approached him and watched as the slight frown on his face morphed into a grin and his eyes once tinted with worry gleamed bright like diamonds.
"Sheesh," I muttered to myself as the distance between us caved in. "Just be cool, be cool and smile back. That's it."
Fortunately, I didn't have to force it.
"You look...amazing." Landon breathed out as I stopped before him, feeling my cheeks fall into a frenzy yet again. "I, um...I'm glad you could make it."
"Me too," I nodded as he held his hand out toward the available booth awaiting our presence. "Shall we?"
I trailed ahead and led the way to the table before placing my tote into the booth and plopping down beside it. Landon eased himself into the seat across from me and released his breath as he folded his hands on top of his menu.
"Sorry if I seem a little nervous."
"A little?" I taunted with a smirk as my brow rose. "That might be an understatement."
"Oh..." he mumbled, lowering his eyes away from me. "Now I'm embarrassed."
"Oh my gosh, don't be. Please!" I giggled, reaching my arm across the table and placed my hand on top of his. "I was only kidding."
"But it was the truth. I don't want to sound like a square or anything but it's been a minute since I've done this."
"What? A date?"
"Yeah," he nodded, glancing back up at me. "I'm not the greatest at planning either."
"Well, you choose a seemingly nice place," my eyes darted around at the décor that matched the elegance outside. This place stuck out like a sore thumb on a block filled with architecture yet to be updated. "So I'll give you a few points there. I also haven't been on a formal date in a while so I'd say we're even. You can relax now."
I patted his hand and tipped backward as his chest settled, and shortly after our waiter named Ricky, came over to introduce himself and the specials of the day. Landon and I both agreed that we needed a few more minutes to choose on our entrees and instead ordered our drinks to sip on over conversation.
"I hope I wasn't imposing on your plans today with this last minute lunch date," Landon began as Ricky stepped away to put an order for my Bellini and his Modelo in behind the bar. "When you called me back and said you wouldn't mind going out, I guess you can say I got eager."
I was flattered by his readiness to take things a step forward and I was finally letting my guard down enough to see if it was worth it.
"Trust me, I don't mind a man who isn't afraid to show that he is interested, if you know what I mean. I need more than talk. But, you should probably know that my day is just getting started. I didn't plan on doing anything until a bit later. My friend and I are driving over to BK to do some shopping for an ongoing project of mine," I shared eagerly and as if it were infectious, Landon chuckled, revealing the gold plated fangs in his bottom row of teeth.
Suddenly I was hot, heat surging through my body, sweat boiling underneath my skin and rising along my neck as I adjusted myself within the booth and cleared my throat.
I hadn't noticed until now just how damn good he looked and from where I sat, how damn good he smelled too. He donned a gold pair of what looked to be Cartier frames that meshed well with the laid back fit he sported. Something about men in a crisp white tee shirt, cargo pants, a solid pair of J's and top that with a jacket of some sort made me swoon.
Remember, stay cool. Don't blow it by swooning too hard, bitch.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said as I peered away from him and opened my menu. While in search for a quick distraction, Landon slid his hands from off his own and carefully skimmed over its first page. "You know, something tells me you're one of those people who already knows what they want to eat before they're even seated."
"If you think I checked the online menu before I got here then you're right," I tittered, closing the booklet shut. "Sorry, it's a habit. I have to know what I'm getting myself into."
"So what you're saying is you don't trust my expertise?"
"Well, you did just confess that you're not good at planning."
"I did," he stated as he sat back and stared at me with a smile. "But I do have impeccable taste in food."
"You know, something tells me you've been here before." I mocked in his same exact tone.
"Not entirely..."
"Really, dude?" My mouth fell open as he slumped down into his seat and guarded his face from my playful glare. "At least say you didn't bring another woman here."
"I haven't even brought myself here. Swear!"
"Mhm, sure." I crossed my arms over my chest, watching as he held his hands up in defense. "You're on strike two if you don't explain."
"One of my brothers lives about ten minutes away and we ordered food from here once. I am guilty of googling best restaurants in [insert neighborhood here] and letting the ratings choose for me. Based off ratings and what I could recall from that one experience, here we are."
"I guess that suffices," I shrugged with a smirk. "How many siblings do you have?"
"Blood? Only a younger sister. I consider my best friends like siblings though, since we're pretty tight. You have any?"
"I have an older sister and like you I consider my best friend Maya family. We've pretty much been inseparable since we were kids."
"How'd you all meet?"
"She stole my crayons in the third grade, I ambushed her at a swing set and slapped her when I found out."
"Wait, really?" His eyes widened. "And you just became friends after that?"
"Not exactly. I hated her for years but because we both attended a catholic school and classes were super intimate, being around her was inevitable. By the sixth grade, I softened up to her a bit and realized the girl wasn't that bad. She just wanted my Crayola 64 pack over her nasty ass Rose Arts."
Silence settled between us long enough for Ricky to return with our drinks and stare at us awkwardly as he placed them down. Eyes roamed around the table - from him to Landon, Landon to me and another 360 until neither Landon nor I could hold it in any longer. We both burst into laughter making our waiter feel even more out of place.
"Sorry, sorry. We were just...and," I rambled before gathering both our meus and handing them over. "I'll take the Crab Cake Benedict."
"And give me the Southern Dinner with fried catfish." Ricky took our menus and note of our orders on his iPad then scurried away.
"I feel so bad. He probably thought we were talking shit about him."
Landon waved me off. "I doubt it and you've got to stop apologizing. Take it from someone who does it all the time and never takes his own advice."
"You sound like Maya. I just never want to leave a bad impression on people or leave a person feeling slighted or inadequate from our one interaction." I admitted. "Well, strangers that is."
"Same here," Landon added, palming his chest. "My father is a perfectionist. Growing up, I wasn't allowed to make even the smallest mistake, and when I did, my first reaction was to apologize profusely. Now, I guess you can say I'm conditioned to apologize to people whenever I feel like I didn't give them my best or show up the way my father would have expected me to."
"Man, that was deep and yet relatable."
"Sorr-" he paused abruptly, letting a chuckle slip from his lips and shook his head. "See? I meant I don't want to overbear you with my childhood trauma on a first date. That's weird, don't you think?"
"It definitely can be depending on how deep you're going but a little bird once told me that boundaries are the key. Besides, that kind of transparency is respected. Reminds me that you're real and not fake." I winked back at him as I stretched my hand out to the center of the table and grabbed my champagne flute.
Landon dropped his head back against the leather booth and sighed while I took a long satisfied sip. "Aw man. You're going to hold that against me for a while, huh?"
"Unless you give me something else to hold against you."
"I'll try not to."
"Try?" I cackled loudly and raised the flute back to my lips for another sip. "Oh no. You need to make full out attempts and stick the landing, sir."
"I will do back flips, somersaults, cartwheels and handstands that will have judges raising nothing but tens for you."
"Ooh, that was smooth. I remember everything so you better not forgot because best believe I will remind you."
Landon crossed his heart and leaned in to gather his beer. "You have my word and nothing less, only more."
"Are you usually smooth with the ladies?"
"Not even," he disclosed honestly. "but you make it easy."
His back to back confessions this lovely afternoon were rendering me speechless and the only way I could conceal the grin on my face was to cater to what was remaining of my drink and hold my hand up for Ricky to order another one. How flustered I was became quite obvious despite my efforts and opened the floodgates for back and forth banter that was a lot flirtier than before. My comfort level was high, so high I caught myself letting a few semi sexual innuendoes slide that Landon surprisingly caught along to.
Ten minutes flew by and just like that our food was being placed in front of us, smoke from each plate still permeating the air. My mouth watered at the various aromas swarming the booth and left me rushing to unwrap the linen napkin swathing my utensils.
"I would try to eat all cute since this is a date but I'm starving."
Landon shook his head as he stabbed his fork into his side of collard greens. "I like a woman who can eat."
"Yeah, you say that now." I muttered cutting into my benedict then leaned down toward my plate to bite into the piece on my fork. "Next time you'll be making fun of me, holding it over my head."
"I would never," he insisted but his grin said otherwise. "I was thinking maybe we could do something a little bit more fun next time."
"I'm open to fun just as long as it doesn't invol- hold that thought," I raised my finger as I placed my fork down, feeling my phone vibrating against the seat of the booth. I dug into my tote, grabbed my phone from the bottom and regarded the screen. A name I hadn't expected to see so soon flashed across it, and remembering my AirPods were in my ears, I answered the call.
"Hello?"
There was no answer, only shuffling could be heard in the background, as though someone had dropped their phone and was struggling to pick it up or better yet scuffling with someone to get it back.
"Hello? Are you there?"
After a few more seconds of static, heavy breathing cut through and finally a familiar voice I was hoping would answer. "Tate? Can you hear me?"
"I'm here," I said, forcing one of my pods further into my ear. My brows furrowed as they groaned loudly and cursed under their breath. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm really sorry, alright? I don't usually last minute cancel on people and especially not when a promise is attached to it but...fuck, man!"
"Woah, okay. Calm down. I need you to breathe," I soothed, but of course they didn't listen and instead blathered on, aggression rising with every word.
"The only reason I won't leave this girl with scraps is because she's the mother of my child, Tate. The only reason!"
"And because you still love her, rightfully so. She's your wife."
"Yeah, whatever." He dismissed lowly. "I try to put my ego aside, stop all this back and forth bullshit and work around her schedule and what happens? She goes ghost. Not only will she not answer my phone calls right now but she didn't even show up for our mediation today. We decide to cut out the courts, I pay for a professional mediator and all she does is leave me sitting in that fuckin' office for an hour with my lawyer, like a clown. Her ass begged me to keep this process away from a judge and she gives me yet another reason why I shouldn't. Who does that?"
An evil witch.
I sighed, rubbing my fingers against my temple and glanced up at Landon as he slowly chewed his food and scoped the irritation contorting my face. I quickly mouthed an apology that he accepted with a nod.
Though all the ranting had ceased, anger still boiled over the phone and I could hear what sounded like something being punched and a horn blowing right behind the impact. Now I was worried.
"Dallas?" Landon's forehead crumpled at the sound of his name. Here I was on a date and talking to another man in the middle of it. "Tell me you're not driving? That is the last thing you need to be doing."
"Look, I'm in a bind right now. I have to go pick up Noor from the barbershop. Maxwell agreed to watch her until the mediation was over and before his first client came in."
"Okay, but it might be a good idea to pull over and take a few minutes to calm down."
"I don't have time for all of that shit, Tatum!" he bellowed. "I need to go pi-"
"You need to calm down," I shot back with the same intensity, cutting right into his words.
Dallas exhaled loudly after leaving the line dead and this time around when he opened his mouth his tone was a lot more composed. "I didn't mean to come at you like that, and I am parked."
"Good, now stop abusing the steering wheel, relax your hands and give yourself some grace."
"I'm good."
"Sure you are," I sassed. "Now, do you plan on going home after you pick her up and chill out?"
"I'm headed to Brooklyn."
"I thought you were canceling on me. You forgot already?" I teased and luckily it eased his mood enough to chuckle. "Old man."
"Watch it with that old man stuff," he warned. "All jokes aside, I cancelled so I could go and find Layla."
"Dallas, just let it go."
"Nah, I need to find her and figure out what the fuck is her problem. Before that I need to see if my pops can take Noor for a while. That's why I'm in a bind. I don't want her caught in the middle of this mess more than she already is. Knowing Layla, she'll probably call the cops on me."
"And knowing that you're still going?" If he could see the expression on my face, the way my eyes bulged out and mouth fell agape, he'd know that in this instance I thought he was insane. "Your freedom is worth way more than her right about now. Remember that thing about boundaries you told me? She's pushing it."
"Yeah but this is different."
I couldn't help but cackle. "Listen, you're a grown man and I can't make you change your mind but I hope you'll reconsider. If you decide you still want to go then know my address will be sitting in your inbox. Use it. I'll watch your baby girl for however long you need."
"I can't do that," he said denying my offer. "I've already involved you enough and without consent."
"You can, the question is will you? Are you really going to drive across the bridge to risk your freedom over someone who clearly has her own issues and deflects by getting a rise out of you instead? You keep allowing it and she'll keep doing it. Choose the route that will benefit you because she clearly has."
Without another word and to my surprise, Dallas ended the call. I brushed aside his temper mainly because I knew it wasn't anything personal. He was going through the worst time of his life and was trying to manage the best way he knew how. He was trying to fathom his emotions while experiencing them in the same breath. That task was impossible though. He had to go through them first, he had to go through this ordeal first and I knew all too well how going through hell felt. So I wasn't upset, I empathized.
"Is everything okay?" My attention quickly diverted to Landon and away from phone.
"Absolutely," I sneered. "I only just voluntarily put on a cape and tried to talk my friend, who isn't going to listen to me anyway, off the ledge. Folks are just hardheaded and won't learn unless they're burned."
"That makes you a good friend then."
"I can only try," I mumbled, snatching my knife and fork up from my plate. "Forget all of that though. I need to finish this food, like yesterday."
Landon leaned back, now finished with most of his entrée, and beamed at me as I dived into the remainder of my benedict and groaned with satisfaction.
------
"How is Kevin doing?"
"You would know if you actually came to visit him," I rolled my eyes at Eden's smart remark and continued to mix the bowl of paint in my hand. "Can't you just put your differences aside for a second and check in on him? He misses you."
"When I'm ready to I will. Now, are you going to tell me how he is doing?"
"Fine," she snapped back. "His doctor thinks he'll be well enough to attend the wedding. So that's definitely a plus."
"And you call me selfish," I grumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said, no matter how much you try to make it seem like I'm this selfish little brat, it's apparent from your actions that all you truly care about right now is your wedding. Let that man rest."
"All he's doing is walking me down the aisle and a father and daughter dance."
"And how many rehearsals?" Eden didn't respond because she knew I was stating nothing but facts. Since we were children she had that man eating out the palm of her hand and even in sickness he was still showing up like her knight in shining armor. "Yep, that's what I thought."
"He'll be fine, the doctor said it."
"Sure will!" I shot back sarcastically.
Tuning her out was a kneejerk reaction once she started scolding me and instead I began lathering a shade close to the color of terracotta I had concocted across my fresh canvas. I gradually stroked my brush up and down, avoiding bubbles and streaks and until the surface was smooth as marble. My head tilted as I conceptualized an image in my head and other colors that played well with this one; mute shades of white, cream, red, mustard and maybe even green. The longer I stared the easier it became to conjure up what my next piece would be to a t.
And then the doorbell rang.
My head swung toward my front window that peered over the sidewalk as if, from where I sat, I'd be able to actual see who it was, but there was nothing – no one.
"Eden, I'll call you back."
"I won't hold my breath," she murmured then ended the call.
I disregarded her attitude as I placed the bowl down, swiveled around and stood up from my stool, anticipating that whoever it is would ring the bell again but nothing followed but stillness. Once I made it to the door, I eased it open enough to get a glimpse of my guest and when I deemed things safe, I stretched the crack wider.
Seeing Dallas holding a life sized American Girl Doll in his arms prompted me to remain as quiet as possible as I moved aside for him to step over the threshold and kick his shoes off on the doormat. Closing the door in damn near slow motion was torture but as soon as it was locked I made sure not to keep Dallas waiting and directed him to my bedroom. Luckily enough, I tidied it up just a few days ago, so that's to say it was as child proof as it could possibly be.
Compared to almost two hours ago, Dallas was mellow. His steps were as light as a feather, movements flowing into the other as he gently laid his daughter's limp body down atop of my velvet duvet, removed her shoes and kissed her forehead as she snuggled up to the velvet pillow her curly hair draped over. I laced my arms over my chest and observed him in such a serene state. It was like her presence cured him. She was the answer to all his problems.
He shook his head as his brief trance ended, hauling him back down to Earth, and locked eyes with me but before he could utter a word I gestured for him to exit. We both trailed down the short hall and back out to my living room where I offered him a seat on Maya and I's L-shaped sectional.
"Can I get you something to drink? A snack?"
"Water would be great, actually." Without hesitation I waltzed over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of Essentia from the bottom of the fridge. By the time I made it back to Dallas and handed him his beverage, he had already made himself comfortable - slouched into the soft cushions with his head propped onto the sectional's back.
"I would've went straight home but I'm trying to avoid triggering memories right about now, so...yeah." his admission was low but heard as I stood over him. "Thank you for opening up your home to me."
"It's no big deal. We all need somewhere to escape to every so often," I reassured with a shrug. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Dallas gazed over at me momentarily before his eyes drifted off and locked to nothing in particular but yet somewhere beside me and in the distance.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Eventually, but right now I just need to get into something that will completely take my mind off of things. Maybe I need a nap?" he pondered. "I haven't took one of those in years."
That was when a light bulb went off.
I marched over to one of many plastic containers full of art supplies, with excitement bubbling within me, and delved inside. When I shuffled around it and found an old sketch notebook with a few blank pages and box of coloring pencils, I lugged them out and made my way back over to Dallas. But not just any ol' way. Picture Vanna White sauntering over to him like a Miss America, presenting my brilliant idea on a platter.
It took a minute for him to take heed of what I was suggesting but once he did..."Oh nah," he raised up, shaking his head.
"Aw, come on. Why not?"
"It's been forever since I picked up a pencil. I wouldn't even know what to do with that thing if I tried."
"Well you can start by writing your name," I joked. "Seriously, it wouldn't hurt just to try it out again. Use it as a release, maybe?"
"You're one of those persistent people, I see. Like a little woodpecker." He motioned with his hand.
"Are you implying that I'm annoying?" I scoffed and Dallas only snickered, leaving it open to my interpretation. "Look, you interrupted my date earlier so if I'm annoying, it's what you deserve. Besides, I'm trying to help you out. So do with this as you will." I placed the supplies down beside him and carried on with my regularly scheduled painting session.
Just as I sat down on my stool and picked up the bowl of paint from my taboret, Dallas interrupted me just as he had been spontaneously doing so all day. Only this time I saw it coming.
"I only drew when I had a muse," he unveiled.
"And when you didn't?"
He stood up from the sectional and strolled over to my makeshift workstation, making himself at home on the floor beside me. "I never not had one."
"Was she your muse?"
"Yeah," he confessed. That was when I saw it, the pain I heard tearing through him earlier. It wore him like a kid on the first day of school rocking their fresh fit, boldly and with no shame. "I spent hours imagining the love of my life in different ways, so many that I had over a hundred drawings of either her or something she inspired. It was never a hassle to create and when Noor was born I birthed even more art when I had the time. Time got away from me though, from us. I became busier, we became distant and maybe I never wanted to believe that that was the reason we're here, or the fact that not only did she change but I changed. My pops used to tell me that when people change, so does their perspective of things. The fucked up thing about all this shit is only Layla's perspective changed. Despite all our issues and all our differences, I still see her as the woman of my dreams. I'd still lay my life on the line for her to ensure her happiness until she does something to remind me that it would literally be the death of me."
"Not ready to die yet?"
"Hell no," he shot down with a straight face. I wiggled my brows, aiming to get a lighter reaction from him and I was satisfied when he finally broke his hard shell and grinned. Dallas looked away from as he tried to maintain his composure but it was no use. We both laughed and somehow that cleared the air and made him much lighter.
"So will you try it?"
"You keep asking and I'll draw something, alright. A stick figure," he taunted. I stuck my leg out and kicked his stretched out near me with my foot. "Damn girl. Keep your claws away from me."
"You wish. Seriously though, for me since we're like the bestest of friends in the whole universe now. Pretty, pretty please." I begged, pouting my lips out. "Please!"
"I'll try."
"And that's all that I want. Once you find that muse, don't let it go and don't stop drawing. Act like they're your lifeline."
"Fine words there, Ms. Tatum. Fine words." I pursed my lips, fully accepting his compliment, and dusted one of my shoulders off.
"Well you know I do a little something something. I'm sure Toni Morrison is a direct ancestor of mine," I gloated. "By the way, why did you ever start calling me that? If I recall, I asked you not to. It really does make me feel like I'm eighty."
"You'll learn soon that I don't listen," he then blinked away and peeped over at the front window, gawking at the landscape of the sky he could only see from his viewpoint. "Plus, it makes your name sound classic, established, quintessential even. That fits who you are, your style. This hairstyle you're sporting too. I like it."
"Mhm," I tried brushing off how tense I'd become as I turned from him and began adding another layer of paint to my canvas. It was no use though. "Find yourself something to do." I hissed.
Dallas cackled and literally watched the paint dry and found interest in watching me execute what was slowly becoming a portrait of a black woman. Only half of her face was developed. Her mouth ajar, teeth and tongue exposed - a representation of her anguish, her experience in the unnamed universe she was born from. The rest of her face would be covered with blurred and blotted boxes once I got to that part. I wanted her to appear alienesque and somehow human too.
This woman was familiar from the blue underlying tint of her skin, the plump of her lips and arch of her nose, and yet she was unrecognizable. She was a representation of those unheard, those unseen, those forgotten and those left behind.
This woman was me.
For an hour or more he picked my brain. He asked a range of questions starting with what kind of paint I was using all the way to when did I first fall in love with this form of escapism. Truth be told, no one ever asked me that. No on ever cared about anything other than my finished products. Never the origin or the why.
His gaze was intense, enthralled and endearing. He was genuinely engaged and gave me much appreciated and needed feedback. The dialogue between us probably would have never ended or at least so soon if Maya hadn't burst into our apartment with a conversation of her own already rolling off her tongue. She obviously assumed I was home, alone and far from busy at the rate she was disclosing.
Maya stopped near the sectional when she saw Dallas still sprawled across the floor and glanced between the two of us, awaiting an explanation.
I gave her an introduction instead.
"Maya this is Dallas," I pointed toward him as he bobbed his head at her. "the guy who leased his vacant space to me for the art center and Dallas, this Maya. My best friend who may say something off the wall which is why she's going to go to her room and act like we're not even here."
"Oop," her head jerked back as she palmed her chest. "I'm offended. Dallas, ignore her. I'm very pleasant and really not as intrusive or crazy as she makes me sound."
"That's a lie," I hacked out, making Dallas chuckle lowly as he shielded his mouth.
"If you want me to leave you alone so you can continue your little date then just say that."
My mouth dropped and face flushed as she winked at me then ventured off to her bedroom. "It was nice meeting you, Dallas!" she shouted back.
"You too!"
"And this is not a date!" I vowed then centered my focus back on Dallas. "Sorry. I hope she didn't make you uncomfortable. Dammit, I hope we didn't wake Noor," I jeered. "I forgot she was asleep back there."
"Nah, y'all are good. She sleeps through anything, but I should probably wake her up so she won't be up throughout the night. Then I won't be able to rest," he pushed himself up from the floor and stretched his limbs out. "Plus, I'm sure you want your space back."
"Oh, uh there's no rush. I mean, you can stay longer if you'd like."
Dallas tilted his head and I then regretted my choice of words as I watched his lips curl up like a Cheshire cat.
"No."
"So this is a date, isn't it?" he quizzed as that smirk grew wider.
"Uh, no. My date was earlier."
"It's okay to admit that you enjoy my company. I've been told I have that effect on people," he quipped. "Wow. I can't believe I'm having my first date as a single man and the divorce papers aren't even signed. I still got it!"
"No, no and no you don't." I repeated as I fought back a smile. "Just, yeah you can go. I want my space back. Bye!"
"Nah, you're not getting rid of me that soon."
"I bet I can," I cracked back. "Hey, you never told me if you found what you were looking for?"
Dallas wandered back over to the sectional where he left his water and those used art supplies and snatched the bottle up from the floor. He took a long sip that delayed his response. It was so long, I wondered if he even heard me. I knew he had once he lowered the bottle from his lips and became engrossed in nothing in particular but yet somewhere beside me and in the distance, just as he had earlier. He dug his hand into the pocket of his slacks and somewhere in between his silence he found his answer and the nerve to reveal it.
"No," he nearly whispered. "I never went."
My shoulders dropped, relieved that even a little bit of what I said to him over the phone resonated. "What changed your mind?
"Just trying something new," he shrugged. "It might be time to finally let go and consider Noor and only Noor and myself first. So thank you."
"Well, you're welcome." Dallas snickered as he retrieved his ringing phone from his pocket then peeked back up at me.
"It's my lawyer. I'm sorry."
"You're fine. Go," I signaled for him to take his call and turned back around to my canvas while he trailed out to the front porch. Maya must have been standing in the hallway waiting for her cue to intrude because once the locks snapped into place, she cleared her throat and came trudging out, now dressed in more comfortable attire compared to her business flair she came home in.
"Where are you headed?"
"The same place you were earlier. I need to get my micro links installed for the weekend. It's Angelo and I's anniversary."
"Oh yeah..."
"Oh yeah..." she echoed, placing her hand on her hip as she stood over me. "Where'd your little friend go, hm?"
"He needed to take a call, so be quiet. He's right outside and can probably hear you."
"Girl, don't act like I'm embarrassing you. But about him," I could hear the wheels churning in her head. "I don't know why I assumed the man who leased you this property was old and white. I'm pleasantly surprised to see a rather young black man who is quite your type instead."
"What we'd say about that? I don't have a type," I reiterated. "I don't know why you won't get that through your thick ass skull."
"Oh honey, please. Everything I described is him. Eccentric, tall, light skinned," she listed. "and I bet he likes to play in magic markers too. Whew! Did we manifest you a man?"
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying," she said before heading toward the door. "He strolled on in and stole the show because I totally forgot you had a date with Landon today too. Crazy because he didn't even try, he just showed up out of the blue and is just right for you."
"He's married, and I told you already that this isn't a date."
"Oh," she sounded disappointed, defeated, not sure in regard to which part I said but nevertheless she still persisted. "Well, people get divorced all the time. You never know."
How ironic.
"Anyway, I'll see you later, and maybe you too Dallas?" He walked around her, unclear if he should respond as she squeezed out of the front door, leaving us both dumbstruck.
"She's a trip."
"That she is indeed," I griped and motioned him over to me. "Now grab that sketchbook and step back into my office. I have an assignment for you."
"Oh boy," he muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"You have no idea."