now playing: "Closer" by Goapele
Beyoncé
"Watch your step. The wood ain't as stable as I thought it would be. I've been meanin' to replace this whole floor and fix that fence over there. Nearly fell through myself last month."
The crisp, pine-scented air of Houston's outskirts was a balm, drifting off the nearby lake as I took in the sight. The once sparse and neglected plot of land that my uncle had purchased years ago had been utterly transformed.
Where my mother had once scoffed and railed against his 'poor decision', seeing nothing but a fool's errand in the vast emptiness of the land, now even she would struggle to hide her surprise.
The small, random shack that had dotted the landscape was now replaced by a growing structure that stood with purpose, reflecting the resilience and determination of the man who had built it.
The lake, a stone's throw from where we sat, held the sky's reflection like a precious piece of art, the ripples telling tales of the soft breeze that danced upon it. Willows lined the water's edge, their drooping branches swaying gently, offering a whispered soundtrack to the scene.
Uncle Johnny had not only built a home but had also cultivated the land, nurturing it until it blossomed into a verdant sanctuary that hummed with life.
Dragonflies flitted between the reeds, and the occasional splash of a fish leaping for a meal punctuated the tranquility. The property was now a harmonious blend of nature and nurture, the wildness of the land tamed just enough to coexist with the homeliness of the ranch.
A large deck that jutted out from the side. Fresh paint in a soft, welcoming hue clung to the exterior, and flower boxes brimming with vibrant blooms hung beneath each window, adding more complementary splashes of color.
The porch protested underfoot, a plank bowing outward in warning, eliciting a startled squeal from my lips. Uncle Johnny's laughter chased away the momentary fear as he ushered us inside.
The interior was a revelation. Sunlight cascaded through the open windows, casting the polished wooden floors in a golden glow.
An unassuming entertainment center housed a modest television, flanked by shelves heavy with literary classics and thick volumes on mechanics, fashion, and archival issues of Essence, Jet, and Vibe Magazine—a testament to Uncle Johnny's diverse interests.
The adjoining kitchen exuded the warmth of a recently baked lemon bundt cake, with the scent weaving its way through the air, tugging at childhood memories.
Across from the TV, a brown couch and matching recliner held court, a handmade quilt meticulously folded over its back, while the walls were adorned with framed photographs that spoke of love and simple joys.
"Y'all want somethin' to drink? I got sweet tea, water, and, uh...some lemonade..." His voice trailed off as he turned away, busying himself in the kitchen, giving me a chance to look around.
A large bookshelf sat opposite the couch, and I drifted towards it, admiring the photos that dotted the shelf. My uncle had captured moments throughout his life—moments of great importance, and moments so small, so insignificant, yet now immortalized in the photo, the details forever etched into the mind, never forgotten.
He treasured his film camera, occasionally spending entire weekends sequestered away in his makeshift darkroom, emerging only when his latest photographs were finished, the images preserved on glossy paper.
I smiled as I spotted a photo of Solange as a baby, a wide toothless grin lighting up her chubby face as she stared up at the camera, a single chubby fist raised in triumph, holding the camera strap as though it were a trophy.
In another, I caught a glimpse of myself, no older than six, with a smear of ice cream running down my mouth as I laughed at the camera.
My fingers skimmed across the frame as I remembered the day: the ice cream melting into the heat of the sun, making the cone nearly impossible to hold on to.
The sticky mess had been worth the joy of that day, even with the punishment that followed for ruining my sundress.
My father had a strong disdain for desserts.
Anything sweet.
Anything with sugar in its tank, so to speak.
It was messy.
I would need to learn how to control myself.
Always left a stain wherever it was.
How unbecoming it was to see a young lady covered in and surrounded by the remnants of something so impure, so indulgent.
He never liked the idea of a child of his indulging in such frivolities, so I learned to keep it hidden, taking the smallest of bites as the minutes ticked by, waiting for the opportune time to finish it off.
The ice cream had been worth the lecture that followed, the sting of his palm on my cheeks, the tears that threatened to fall, but refused to obey, and the cold dismissal, followed by a week of silence.
But my uncle had taken pity on me before heading home that day.
He'd whisked me away, a smile on his face as he wiped the ice cream from my hands and cheeks with tissue.
The fear of taint and ruin was left behind as we drove back to my house to drop me off, and I could still feel the wind whipping through the truck cab as the windows were rolled down, the music turned up, and our laughter sang along.
The fireflies always began to light up the twilight as Uncle Johnny and I found our familiar spot on the tailgate of his old pickup.
The air was filled with the earthy scent of the vast open land. We would sit side by side, our gaze lost in the dance of those tiny, bioluminescent creatures that seemed to echo the stars above.
"This right here," he started, his voice a low rumble, "it's more than just piss, dirt, and grass or whatever shit your father chooses to call it. It's where I'll see my dreams take root and grow."
I knew his stories by heart—the triumphs and trials, the roar of the crowd as he cleared jump after jump, his horse and him moving as one. But here, in the soft glow of dusk, those stories took on a different hue. They were quieter, more intimate. They were not about the medals and the glory but about the dreams of open spaces, of freedom, and of legacy.
He wanted to build something that would last, something that would tell not the world, but me that he was here and that he mattered. The accolades from his equestrian days were a testament to his talent and hard work, but this land, this life he was shaping with his own two hands, was a testament to his heart.
As I moved along, a set of frames drew my eye, the glass catching the light and sending fractals of light across the room. I moved up to examine it more closely, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I took in the details.
A collection of childlike paintings were displayed within the frames, some of them bearing my attempt at a signature and dates with timestamps.
A lump formed in my throat as I traced a finger across the glass of one of the works of art, remembering the day I had gifted it to my uncle.
He had been so proud. It was the first painting he ever received from me, who had been a mere three-year-old at the time.
I had excitedly handed him the paper, the drawing depicting a man, sitting in a garden, watching a little girl dance in the flowers. The man's face bore the wide smile that I cherished, the one that always made me feel safe, the one that made me feel loved.
"I'm guessing you did all of these?"
Aaliyah's voice was gentle as her head hovered over my shoulder, her eyes tracing over the image, her head tilting as she took in the details.
"It's nothin' crazy. Just some scribbles," I murmured, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks.
"No, it's not; Are you seeing what I'm seeing? This is beautiful. Look at all the colors. The details on the faces. And the shading on the petals of the flowers. That takes mad skill, especially for someone who wasn't even old enough to go to school. This is really something. My art teacher would have had a stroke if I had given him this in middle school."
As my lips subtly parted, her hand gently pressed against the small of my back, ushering me along the path of frames.
Each step we took was accompanied by her delicate guidance, as she gestured towards the line of ornate frames, her fingers almost dancing as she highlighted every meticulous detail.
The rush of adrenaline surged like a tidal wave through my veins, a visceral reaction to the proximity of her touch.
Her hand, with a touch both purposeful and tender, traced the gentle arc of my waist, drawing me nearer to her with an intimacy that spoke volumes beyond the silent language of art surrounding us.
The sound of my uncle's footsteps echoed down the hall, breaking the spell. I quickly stepped away, putting a respectable distance between Aaliyah and me, ignoring the confusion that clouded her face.
My gaze darted from her to my uncle as he entered the room, a tray in hand, a pitcher of lemonade with three glasses and a plate of soft, freshly baked cookies on its surface.
He set it down on the coffee table, smiling at Aaliyah as she moved around the living room, studying each frame and piece of art.
"She would just be paintin' away. Never met a kid who loved art more than her. I fixed up a mini studio for her in the garage at my old place." He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. "She would just sit and draw for hours. Wouldn't eat or nothin'. Used to worry me."
"That sounds like her. Always so focused on her craft." Aaliyah nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm kinda the same way."
"How so?"
"I'm almost always in the studio. I was also really into art when I was younger. I used to paint a lot. Still do, sometimes. But I got sidetracked by other things, I guess."
My uncle nodded. "Happens to the best of us."
"You have a beautiful home," Aaliyah said, helping herself to the plate of cookies before resuming her perusal of the small nick-nacks and keepsakes scattered across the shelves. "How long have you lived here?"
My uncle leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming against his stomach. "Been livin' here for the last year or so. Got the land for real cheap back in the day, but I didn't really know what to do with it. A good ol' friend of mine knew the original owner. Said they were lookin' to sell off a parcel of their property, and I snatched it up just 'cause. Had to do a lot of fixin' up and renovatin' to get it into shape, but it's comin' together."
He looked over at me with a slight furrow to his brow as I sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, pressing my knees tightly together and folding my hands in my lap. "You awfully quiet this mornin'. What's goin' on with you?"
"Nothin'." I mumbled.
"I ain't buyin' that for a second. You always used to talk my ear off whenever you used to visit. Never really talked about anythin', but you could talk for hours once you got started. Now you're here, and it's like pullin' teeth to get you to say somethin' other than 'nothin''."
I shrugged, shifting in my seat. "I'm still tryna adjust. It's been...some time since I last saw you."
Uncle Johnny nodded, leaning forward to pour himself a glass of lemonade. "Yes, yes it has. Been too damn long. But I told you, don't matter how long it's been, this will always be your home, too. Yours and your sister's. Whenever y'all need a place to stay and feel comfortable, this door is always open. I'm done travelin' and movin' around for now."
"Thank you," I said, taking the glass that he offered to me. The tart sweetness of the lemonade was a welcome relief, chasing away the dryness of my throat as I sipped it. "Solange told me to tell you hi before she left this mornin'. She misses you."
His face softened as he took a drink. "Miss that girl somethin' fierce. I would love to see what she's been up to. Where is she?"
"New York. I think she's plannin' on stayin' there after school."
"Good for her. I'm sure she'll handle herself out there. Smart as a whip, that one. Seems like you two have patched things up if you keepin' tabs on her. That's nice. I grew tired of listenin' to y'all bickerin' back and forth."
I chuckled softly, setting my glass down on the table. "Yes, well, that ain't changed much. We still fight. It's just more...complicated now. We have to work through some stuff."
My uncle nodded, his eyes darting to Aaliyah as she quietly ate a cookie, her gaze trained on her phone. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
"She seems nice. And I like her style. I need that leather she got on; I know good quality when I see it. Girl looks like she jumped straight out of the magazines. I'm not quite sure what's goin' on between y'all, but I'm happy for you. She treats you well?"
"We're not—no, it's nothin' like that. She's just a friend," I whispered, casting a quick glance in Aaliyah's direction. She remained oblivious to our conversation, humming to herself as she scrolled through her phone, munching on the cookie.
"Mm-hmm. I may be old, but I ain't blind. Or stupid. I saw how she was lookin' at you. Both now and yesterday. Women don't look at female friends like that. Especially when they're touchin' them the way she was. I got eyes like a hawk. But that's none of my business. Just wanna make sure that you good."
He patted my knee affectionately as he leaned back in his chair, taking another drink of his lemonade.
Uncle Johnny studied her for a moment before calling for her attention. "So, what about you, Miss Aaliyah? How did y'all two meet? Hollywood types don't usually rub elbows with folks like us."
Aaliyah smiled, setting her phone in her pocket as she sat beside me on the couch. "We bumped into each other at a Target."
"Target? Wow. I woulda thought y'all had people who shopped for ya."
"Some probably do. But I enjoy doing things for myself, especially when it comes to grocery shopping. It gives me a chance to clear my head and some much needed alone time. Plus, it's kind of nice to blend in every now and then. Get away from the craziness of it all."
"I know it gets to be a bit much sometimes." Uncle Johnny nodded, taking a sip of his lemonade. "It's hard to relax, especially with all the cameras and paps followin' ya around. I remember havin' to deal with that back then. Couldn't sneeze without the whole world talkin' about it the next day. That shit'll drive a sane man crazy."
Aaliyah sighed. "Yeah, it's not for everyone. Sometimes it's hard to find privacy, but I manage. You used to be an Olympian, right? Bey says you were the best equestrian the country had ever seen. You broke a bunch of records."
Uncle Johnny chuckled. "I must not've been the best if you ain't heard of me. But yes, that was a lifetime ago. Still can't believe they let me compete back then. Black folks weren't exactly welcome in that area."
"Times have changed, thankfully. Well, to an extent. It's better than it was, so that's a start. We still have a ways to go, though. Do you still ride often, or was the Rodeo a one time thing?" Aaliyah asked.
"Is Aretha still the Queen of Soul? I could never let all that skill go to waste. I don't race, but I do love to bet on them. That's a little side thing I got goin' on. Most times, I'll do charity events or other local stuff for work besides the Rodeo now. Nothin' too serious since I've semi–retired." Uncle Johnny pointed out the window, his eyes bright. "My girl is out back. She's a beauty. Sweetest horse you'll ever meet. Y'all should come out later and say hello. She loves meetin' new friends."
"How did you get into this?"
My uncle launched into a story, recounting his accidental beginnings in horseback riding with Uncle Larry, his voice animated and filled with emotion as he detailed his journey as the shy and timid boy who hid behind the legs of his brother as a overzealous pony, the main attraction to a birthday party they had attended, bucked at the children and ran loose.
He initially found the animal to be astonishing, but had been terrified by the incident, clinging to his older brother and begging him to save him from the monstrous beast that seemed intent on causing him harm.
Uncle Johnny was convinced that he was going to die and ran away from the group of wailing children and frantic adults looking for the runaway animal.
He came upon Buttercup, peacefully grazing near an old oak tree, unconcerned with the commotion she had caused. Unlike the adults who tried to coax her with treats and lead ropes, he kept his distance, mesmerized by her sudden calm demeanor.
Instead of running away again from danger, Uncle Johnny approached the pony slowly, offering her his hand to sniff as he stood still, speaking to her in hushed tones, a trick he had learned from watching his grandfather calm down the stray dogs that roamed their neighborhood.
To the astonishment of everyone who found them, Buttercup responded to Johnny's gentle touch and allowed him to mount without so much as a flinch.
With the slightest nudge, they returned to the party together, Johnny riding Buttercup as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
That day, a bond was formed, and a passion ignited. Free community-sponsored riding lessons soon followed, and Uncle Johnny found not only a talent for equestrian pursuits but also a sanctuary within the rhythm of hooves and dirt.
Aaliyah listened intently, nodding along as he spoke, asking questions, laughing when appropriate.
They had the easy familiarity of old friends, discussing everything from the current state of athletics to the merits of local food trucks he tried in L.A., debating the validity of conspiracy theories, and trading stories of travels abroad.
Her laugh rang through the air, bright and melodic. She seemed to shine as Uncle Johnny spoke, her face alight with joy as she nodded along, captivated by his every word. Uncle Johnny warmed up to her, his posture relaxing, his speech becoming less formal, the drawl of his accent slipping through.
"You make that much just spinnin' a turntable?" Uncle Johnny asked, shaking his head as Aaliyah told him about her last gig. "Lord have mercy. I'd be livin' like a king if I made that much. What kinda records you play, or make? I remember you sayin' you a producer of some sorts."
"Anything, really. If they throw enough money at me, I'll pretty much spin whatever they want me to. But I lean more towards house, afrobeats, dancehall, and R&B. All that good stuff. For production, I play a few live instruments or use more technical equipment like MPCs."
Uncle Johnny's brows shot up in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. "Damn. You might have to teach me a thing or two about that. I've been tryin' to produce my own music for months, but I don't have the slightest clue how to use them programs."
"You makin' music now, Uncle Johnny?" I interjected. "Since when?"
He chuckled, reaching for another cookie. "Since Luther still had some weight on him. I gotta have a hobby outside of sewin'. I dabble here and there, but hadn't touched in so many years because of my line of work. I try my hand at singin', producin', even wrote a few songs. Maybe Aaliyah can give me some tips."
Aaliyah nodded. "Absolutely. I'd love to. Can I hear some of your stuff?"
"Can't promise that it'll sound any good and I ain't sure how much of a country fan you are, but I got somethin' you can listen to later. You know, Bey used to write lyrics sometimes. Pretty good at it, too. She would always sing along to the radio with me whenever we went ridin' together. Had a real nice voice."
Aaliyah turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "She can sing? Wow, I had no clue."
I flushed, looking away. "Stop it. Don't even."
"You sang for her?"
"She sang to an entire crowd of strangers," Aaliyah supplied, nudging my arm with her elbow. "It was the cutest thing."
Pulling out her phone, she swiped through the screen, searching for the clip. Uncle Johnny got up from his seat and leaned down, crossing his hands behind his back with interest.
I shifted in my seat, wringing my hands together in embarrassment as she settled on the video, turning the volume up as loud as it would go.
The familiar tune of 'No Scrubs' filtered through the speaker, the opening beats bouncing off the walls of the room.
Aaliyah cackled as the video played, grinning at my uncle as he watched it with a smile on his face.
The memory of that night, the fear, the adrenaline, the exhilaration, rushed back, causing my cheeks to burn with heat. I sank further into the couch, wishing I could disappear, as Aaliyah replayed the portion of the video for Uncle Johnny, pointing out and explaining the various types of equipment and switches that were involved with her set up.
She paused the video, and Uncle Johnny looked over at me, beaming with pride. "Bey, girl, you sounded amazin'! Looked like you were havin' fun up there, too."
"Thanks." I mumbled, shrinking under his gaze. "Wasn't plannin' on singin' that night, but it kinda just happened."
"Stop hidin' yourself away like that. You got all kinds of talent. You should show it off more. Let people see you." Uncle Johnny said, leaning back into his chair. "Tell me more about what you do with your music. What got you startin' with it?"
Aaliyah launched into an explanation, gesturing with her hands as she described her career, the passion in her voice clear as she spoke about her contributions to other artists' songs.
My uncle nodded along, asking questions, laughing as she recounted some of the wilder moments of her career.
A comfortable silence settled over the room as Aaliyah finished speaking and Uncle Johnny gazed out of the window with a pensive look on his face. "Let me show y'all around outside. It's a beautiful day, and I'm sure you're dyin' to see the rest of the property." He stood up slowly, stretching his arms above his head as he headed towards the back door.
The ranch sprawled out around us, a tapestry of life and color. Animals of all kinds meandered in their designated areas, each contributing to the dynamic ecosystem of the ranch.
Off in the distance, the beautiful black horse named Midnight grazed serenely. Her coat shone in the sun, a radiant black that seemed to absorb and reflect the light all at once.
Uncle Johnny recounted how the crowd at the Rodeo yesterday had been captivated by her grace and strength. She was a creature of remarkable beauty, and it was clear she held a special place in his heart.
As we walked, the massive backyard revealed itself in greater detail. It was like a world unto itself, a place where the troubles of the outside world seemed distant and muffled.
A large, well-tended vegetable garden spread out in neat rows. The vegetables growing there would likely end up on their table or perhaps be shared with neighbors, fostering a sense of community.
The fire pit, surrounded by wooden benches, spoke of communal nights under the stars, sharing stories and laughter. It was easy to imagine the flickering flames casting a warm glow on the faces of friends and family gathered around.
A weathered barn stood proudly, housing tools and providing shelter for some of the animals. The small pond in the distance was a mirror to the sky, its still waters a haven for ducks and other wildlife. It was a focal point of the landscape, a place where one could sit in quiet contemplation and feel at one with nature.
The oak tree, massive and ancient, offered a shady respite with its sprawling branches. Beneath it, a wooden swing hung motionless, inviting someone to break its stillness and soar into the gentle breeze.
Uncle Johnny led us on a path that skirted the edges of the property, pointing out various features with a mixture of pride and nostalgia, and as we circled back into the house, we spent the rest of the time looking through his cherished photobook albums.
He showed us the photographs he had captured during his journeys, sharing the hidden treasures he had discovered along the way.
Continuing to showcase the hidden depths of the man who raised me, he showed us his passion projects—sketches of outfits he had designed, many of which Solange and I recognized from his Rodeo days, and notes he had jotted down regarding ideas for future creations.
I peppered Uncle Johnny with inquiries about his artistic process, and I watched as he lit up, his eyes sparkling as he explained his creative process and the inspiration behind his work.
Upon turning the page, I noticed a sketch that sent chills down my spine.
A dress, elegant and refined, yet daring and bold. A dress that held a familiarity, a memory, a dream. The sketch bore my name in the corner, dated several weeks prior to my prom night.
"That dress...you..."
"I remember you wearin' it that night. You looked like an angel. A little Cinderella." Uncle Johnny's voice was soft as he traced a finger across the page, his gaze distant. "You inspired this design. Every detail. Every stitch. You brought this idea to life that night you came runnin' over to my place after you got asked to prom by that boy. You were so excited, and you couldn't stop talkin' about it. I could see the joy in your eyes, and I wanted to capture that feelin', that energy, and put it into somethin'."
"I thought Mama made it?" I murmured, my brow furrowing as I studied the sketch, the details coming into focus.
Uncle Johnny shook his head. "She helped a bit here and there, I had her do your measurements. But most of it was my doin'. I sketched it all out, made sure it was perfect, and then I went to work. Spent hours hunched over that sewing machine, makin' sure everythin' was just right."
I stared at the drawing in disbelief, my mind racing to assimilate the revelation before me. I had always taken for granted the idea that my mother had crafted the dress herself.
Yet, the realization struck me that I had never actually witnessed her sewing or creating anything, especially considering the hand injury she sustained for two weeks before prom.
"I never knew..." I whispered, my voice trailing off as I struggled to wrap my head around the revelation.
"You looked so beautiful that night. I still have the dress packed away somewhere. Never wanted to part with it. It was one of my proudest creations." Uncle Johnny smiled; the memory of that night was clearly still fresh in his mind. "You reminded me of your mama when she was younger. Full of life and spirit. I don't know what happened along the way, but somethin' changed. Somethin' changed, and she became...harder. Colder. Distant. Lost that light in her eyes."
Uncle Johnny sighed, closing the book with a soft thud. "She was never the same after y'all were born. Like somethin' inside her died. She didn't smile as much. Didn't laugh as much. Just seemed...sad. Empty. Like she was just goin' through the motions. I pray for her still. Pray that she finds peace. Finds happiness again. Cause I miss that woman. We used to compete against each other all the time for fun. Always tryna outdo the other. She was always the more talented one though. She could sew circles around me. But I still loved creatin' things. Loved bringin' my visions to life."
"You said you still have it? The dress." Aaliyah chimed in.
She had remained quiet throughout the majority of our conversation, but I could see the curiosity burning in her eyes as she leaned forward to get a better look at the sketch. "Would it be possible to see it? If you don't mind, of course. Sorry, was that too pushy of me?"
Uncle Johnny chuckled before nodding. "Beyoncé, why don't you go grab it? It's in the spare room down the hall. Should be in a garment bag in the closet. Try it on if you want. See how it fits."
I rose to my feet, excitement coursing through my veins as I made my way down the hall. The spare room was small but cozy, and the walls were adorned with a design theme of nature. The bed was neatly made, and a desk sat in the corner, covered with sketches and drawings.
I crossed to the closet, opening the doors to reveal a row of carefully hung garments. My fingers trailed across the fabric as I searched for the garment bag, finally finding it tucked away in the back corner.
With deliberate care, I lifted the blue dress from its protective covering, gently holding it aloft to catch the light. It was exactly as I recalled—a paragon of elegance and grace, featuring delicate stitching that adorned the bodice and a skirt that cascaded down like liquid silver.
Wearing it again felt surreal, as though I were stepping back into a time capsule, reliving a moment from the past. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, marveling at the way the fabric moved with each twirl. I could almost hear the music from that night—the faint strains of the melody from the slow dance floating through my mind.
As I stood there, lost in the moment, I heard Uncle Johnny's voice calling for me from down the hall.
"You plannin' on struttin' down the runway for us or you still lookin' for your other shoe?" He called out, his tone laced with amusement.
I chuckled, shaking my head as I carefully slipped on the accompanying gloves, completing the look. Making my way back to the living room, I paused in the doorway, taking in the sight before me as Uncle Johnny regaled her with another story.
Aaliyah's gaze met mine as she spotted me standing there, her jaw dropping as she took in my appearance. "Wow..." She breathed, her eyes raking over me, drinking in every detail.
Uncle Johnny smiled proudly, nodding his approval as he examined the dress. "Looks just as good as it did back then."
"Uncle Johnny...this is..." I shook my head as I approached them, unable to find the words to express how I felt.
"I know. And I see you still have that necklace. The one I bought for ya. Figured you'd toss it after prom." Uncle Johnny motioned to the pendant resting against my collarbone.
It was the one item I left behind before leaving Houston all those years ago. I knew I had to look for it once we headed back to the house to get the rest of our belongings with Angie.
I couldn't leave without it.
I couldn't part with it.
It was the last thing he had given me before everything changed. Before my life shifted. Before I became someone else.
"Of course I kept it. Well, actually, I found it back at the house. Thought I lost it." I murmured, my fingers tracing the birthstone charm. "I'm a lil' surprised this dress still fits."
Aaliyah cleared her throat. "Hey, Bey...why don't you pose for some photos? I mean, if that's alright with you."
"Oh, uh...sure." I replied hesitantly, my cheeks flushing at the request.
"Great. You can stand over there by that wall with all the drawings and those trophies. That would be perfect." Aaliyah gestured towards the wall, rising to her feet to retrieve her phone.
I complied, feeling somewhat out of place as Uncle Johnny directed me to pose. Settling into a more natural stance, Aaliyah took several photos, then paused to scrutinize the results. Her face took on a focused expression as she approached to fine-tune my pose, her fingers lightly guiding my shoulders into place.
"Hold that position," Aaliyah instructed, her breath a warm caress against my neck. "Now...look right at me."
My eyes met hers, locking onto an intense stare that seemed to capture the essence of the moment. She held the gaze for a tantalizing second longer than expected, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Beautiful." She whispered, her voice low and husky.
My heart pounded in my chest as she stepped away, her attention returning to her phone. She studied the results after, a satisfied smile gracing her face. She turned her phone to show me the photos, and I marveled at the images that stared back at me.
"It kinda has a Tumblr aesthetic to it." I mused, scrolling through the series of photos she had captured.
"A what?" Uncle Johnny quirked a brow as Aaliyah chuckled.
"It means it has this kind of timeless, vintage vibe." She explained.
Uncle Johnny nodded slowly. "Huh...I don't know half of what y'all kids be talkin' about nowadays. But I guess that's a compliment."
A loud thud echoed from outside, followed by a muffled neigh of protest. Uncle Johnny frowned, his gaze darting towards the window. "What in the world?"
Rising to his feet, he shuffled towards the back door, peering outside. "Oh, shoot." He muttered, disappearing through the threshold.
Aaliyah and I exchanged a glance before following suit, curious to see what had transpired. The scene that greeted us was a comical one—bales of hay lay scattered about the barn, with Midnight stomping her hooves in irritation. Uncle Johnny stood nearby, attempting to placate her with gentle coaxing.
As he busied himself, I wandered back toward the spare room, Aaliyah slowly trailing behind. "That was a lot...but I'm glad we had a chance to reconnect," I said, the weight of the worn gloves leaving my hands as I placed them on the entryway table.
She leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed and her gaze pensive. "You were right when you said he's a cool dude. I see where you get it from now."
"Get what from?"
"Your creativity. Your passion. Your quirks. Your light. He clearly inspired you to follow your dreams." Aaliyah replied.
"Well, I wish my dreams had panned out like yours have. I don't know if I can call livin' paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment and spendin' every dime I earn on bills dreamin'." I mumbled, smoothing out the dress as I attempted to unzip the back. "I love what I teach, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to do somethin' less restrictive."
Due to the dress's design, the zipper was situated in the back rather than the side, making it difficult to reach. I cursed under my breath as I failed for the third time, eliciting a soft laugh from Aaliyah. "Let me help you." She offered, pushing off the doorframe to join me by the bed.
"I've told you several times, I don't want your money, Aaliyah." I huffed, exasperated. "I appreciate it, but I don't want charity."
"Who said anything about money? I'mma always spoil you regardless, by the way, but I was talking about helping you zip down the dress." Aaliyah smirked as she made her way behind me, gently grasping the zipper pull before pausing. "May I?"
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close she stood, the warmth of her body radiating against my skin. "I got it." I stammered, my cheeks heating as she began. Her movements were slow and deliberate, and I could feel her gaze trailing down my spine as she exposed more of my skin.
"Bey." Aaliyah's voice was gentle but firm. "Let me help you."
With each inch that fell away, my pulse quickened, until it was zipped halfway down, the dress hanging loose around my waist.
"I know you that cherish every student that comes into your classroom. You feel like you're doing something to better their lives...but I think...if something isn't serving you, it's okay to let it go. You should know that, given the fact that you uprooted your whole life to move not once, but four times to start fresh." Aaliyah said quietly.
"But it's becoming exhaustin' havin' to start over. I don't know if I can keep doin' it. Not anymore." I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.
"It's okay to ask for help along the way. You say your sister is stubborn? Well, so are you. You have people who want to support you and help carry the burden. Don't try to bear it alone. Especially when you're willing to help everyone else at the same time." She countered, her hands resting on my bare shoulders.
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know who I'm supposed to be or what I'm supposed to be doin' in life sometimes. I don't know my purpose. Maybe that's why I throw myself at everything and everybody that comes my way. Or at least that's what my therapist said. I feel like I've been searchin' for answers my entire life. Tryna find a piece of myself that I lost along the way." I admitted.
"Maybe it's time to stop searching. Maybe you already found it. Found yourself."
"What if I've never liked what I saw? What if...I'm not ready to accept it?"
"Then I'll be here for you. I think you're perfect just the way you are." Aaliyah replied, her tone sincere. "And I know your uncle thinks so, too. Really take into consideration the advice he gave you today. Because sometimes, we just need to hear it from someone else before we believe it ourselves. And it's more than just about singing or creating something. It's about being true to yourself. Doing what makes you happy. Being happy with who you are as a person."
Aaliyah's voice was steady and reassuring, and I could feel myself relaxing under her touch. "I really do think you needed this trip. This is part of those good memories you reminisced about. The ones that remind you of who you were and who you want to be again. Who Beyoncé is. Not who your parents molded you to be. Who you are deep down. That piece of you was never lost, just repressed. I was quiet when the two of you were talking earlier because I wanted to watch you rediscover parts of the real version of yourself that you forgot existed. I may not have known you back then, but I saw glimpses of that Beyoncé peeking through. Since the day I laid eyes on you, I've seen bits and pieces of them. And it's beautiful. It's breathtaking. A breath of fresh air. And I want to keep seeing more of her emerge."
I shivered as her lips traveled up my shoulder, skipping the bra strap and dancing along my skin as she spoke. Her words resonated within me, striking a chord deep inside my soul. I leaned into her, wanting to lose myself in the sensations she stirred within me.
"Shedding old skins is hard. Especially when you've worn them for so long. Your uncle's been able to do it with his travels, his work, and now his music. He's remaking himself into someone new while still holding onto what's important to him. He's comfortable in his own skin. And I want you to start doing the same. Yesterday, on the Ferris wheel...when we kissed...that was your first step. That was you taking control of your life. Of your choices. You were choosing to be happy. To choose to feel something. To feel alive. To be you. And I know it wasn't easy. I know it scared you. But I'm here to support you. To encourage you. My only question is, will you let me help you?"
Aaliyah paused, her lips hovering dangerously close to my ear. "Will you let me peel back those layers? Will you let me see all of you? The real you?"
As the zipper whispered its final descent, the dress formed a silken moat around my feet, and in that moment of unveiling, I turned to face her. Our gazes entwined, a silent pact forged in the depths of smoldering eyes.
The air seemed to thicken with our shared breath, each inhalation a step closer into an intimate world we were about to create.
With a heart drumming a fervent rhythm, I reached out, my hand a gentle pilgrim, finding sanctuary on the warmth of her cheek. My thumb, tentative yet deliberate, sketched the plush contour of her bottom lip—a petal-soft boundary on the brink of yielding.
I could feel my resolve weakening, my defenses crumbling as I gave in to the desire that burned within me for months.
For decades.
I answered her with a kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion into it. Our bodies melded together, fitting perfectly as though they were made for one another.
Aaliyah's hands explored my bare skin with a level of tenderness I had yet to experience from any man. It was a dizzying blend of softness and strength, a passionate storm that threatened to sweep me away.
I surrendered to the pleasure, letting go of any lingering doubts or fears. I allowed myself to drown in the passion, losing myself in the moment. We stumbled onto the bed, our movements fueled by a primal need, driven by an insatiable hunger for one another.
Her lips, as if painting with the palette of Aphrodite herself, brushed a trail of fervent heat down the column of my neck, her teeth gently etching their affection into the canvas of my being. It elicited soft moans from deep within me as she nibbled and tasted, savoring every inch of my skin.
Her fingers trailed lower, tracing intricate patterns across my abdomen, before slipping towards the waistband of my panties.
I sat up slightly to take off her moto jacket and shirt, needing to feel her flesh against mine. They joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor, and I reveled in the sight before me—her torso.
Her muscles were a testament to her strength, each curve and contour a soft echo of her power. The softness of her skin belied the force within, an exquisite contrast that drew me in, begging for the touch of my hands. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her bra, inviting my hands to explore, to caress, to worship.
The tattoos that adorned her arm seemed to come alive in the afternoon sunlight, adding to her allure. I traced her torso with my two fingertips, admiring every detail as she shuddered on top of me. Her eyes closed, surrendering to the sensation, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
With a gentle insistence, she guided my hands, now trembling with the sheer intensity of the moment, up the heated expanse of her body. Her hips swayed against my leg, dancing to a rhythm only she could hear as she moaned softly.
She leaned down to capture my lips once more, her tongue probing as she deepened the kiss. I lost myself in the sensation, allowing it to consume me as I began to unbutton her jeans, sliding them down to her knees.
The sound of her belt buckle clinking against itself contrasted with the sound of the back door closing. My eyes flew open as the sound of footsteps approaching the room broke the spell.
Aaliyah and I scrambled to untangle ourselves, hurriedly trying to close the door and gather my clothes as Uncle Johnny called out to us.
"Bey, you back there? I figured we can head out and do some explorin' once you're done changin'. Gotta show our guest around the city. The neighbors can watch this place while we're gone." Uncle Johnny hollered down the hall, his footsteps growing louder as he drew closer. "She in the bathroom?"
I winced as I frantically tugged on my pants, Aaliyah biting her lip to stifle a laugh as we struggled to compose ourselves. "Um...yeah. She'll probably be out in a minute." I replied, hoping my voice sounded normal.
Aaliyah suppressed another giggle as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hair slightly disheveled and her cheeks flushed. I shook my head at her, struggling to contain my own laughter as we waited for Uncle Johnny to leave.
After what seemed like an eternity, his footsteps receded, followed by a leathery creak as he settled into his favorite spot.
We burst into muffled fits of giggles as soon as he was out of earshot, the tension dissipating as we regained our composure. Aaliyah beckoned me to join her on the bed, reaching for my hand as I straddled her lap, draping my arms around her shoulders. "I think we should pick up where we left off at another time..." She murmured, pressing soft kisses on my neck.
I hummed in agreement, basking in the moment. "Definitely."
"Can I ask you something, though?"
"Yes?" I brushed the stray strands of hair from her bang back to their proper place, tucking them behind her ears as I gazed down at her.
"...Where'd you get this sexy ass two–piece set from?"
I blushed, laughing softly as she ran her hands over my lace bra. "You like it?"
"Mmhmm. I love it. It looks really good on you. And probably off you as well. Which is what I wanna see next..."
"Aaliyah..." I groaned, playfully swatting her arm as she chuckled. "We gotta get goin' before my uncle comes back to check on us."
She ran her hands along my sides, before reluctantly releasing me. "You ever flown private?"
"Hmm?" I furrowed my brows in confusion at the sudden shift in conversation, sliding off her lap to grab my shirt.
"Fly back to L.A. with me. I'll reimburse you for your plane ticket back home. No crazy airports or security screaming at you for forgetting to take off your shoes. Just you, me, and champagne...or wine, if that's your thing." Aaliyah suggested, watching me slip on my top. "You deserve to pamper yourself a bit after all this. Come enjoy some of the perks of having a 'famous friend'." Aaliyah offered, rising to her feet to slip back into her own shirt and shoes.
"Friend? At this point, we're definitely beyond the 'friend' stage, don't you think?" I teased, tossing her moto jacket to her.
"Besties then?" Aaliyah smirked.
I rolled my eyes.
"So...is that a yes to the flight?" She asked, slipping back into her shoes.
"Duh. I'd be stupid to pass up that offer. Now come on, I still got some places I wanna show you before we leave and I know they'll be your kinda spots." I grinned, leading her back down the hall.
"Oh yeah? Like where?"
I replied, extending a hand to her. "You'll see...I think it's time for you to experience a couple of your own firsts."