Ajahni’s View
We stood looking at each other for a long while. It wasn’t even a stare; we were simply looking. I studied him, his every feature, and felt my heart violently clench. And then it just stopped. I was sure as day that my heart was no longer beating. That was the effect he had on me…
It’s him. It’s Christopher. Frank Ocean, Chris, Frankie, whatever you want to call him…he’s here.
After years of searching for him, I am finally seeing the absolute love my life. I was finally seeing my everything. He literally was my everything. Without him, my life would be empty. Everything I have been through was all because of him. I have almost died so many times.
And now we’re here, looking at each other.
He was always so sensitive. As soon as realized it was me, thick tears began to swell in his eyes. I couldn’t even cry with him. I told myself that if I ever saw him, I would cry hysterically and then be terribly angry at him. But now…I didn’t know what or how to feel.
“Christopher.” I said his name just as he said mine.
“No one calls me that anymore.”
“You’re still Christopher to me.”
By the way he was watching me, I could tell that he was going over our past memories just as I had. I remembered the cabin we shared, the prairie filled with cotton-candy grass that was only a five-minute walk away from our home. I remembered the basement downstairs of the cabin that we used as a recording studio; the window used to attract spiders. My arachnophobia always amused Christopher, but he would always remove the spider webs before I could see them. He was so generous; it was those little things that made me fall in love with him so hardly.
And now I can get back up. I’m floating in love with him now.
He approached me with a smile, the step he took ever-so-tiny. He was brave and shy all at once.
“Alright! That’s it. We’re taking down this building. Everyone GET OUT!” A man with an authoritative voice demanded. I could already hear the footsteps of obedient protestors, satisfied with the final decision as they left the building. Then I looked up at Christopher. Was he a protestor? Why was he here?
“Come,” He said simply; instead of approaching me like he had started, he began to walk away. It was my turn to approach. When I got to him he slipped his hand into mine, my every fiber shivering with delight. He seemed to be shocked by our touch, too.
We walked up the stairs.
Our feet sounded throughout the staircase. The echoes were quite calming. When we got to the flight above, Christopher decided to exit the stairway and rush toward the elevator. I didn’t know why he was in such a rush, but I followed him into the musty elevator. It was anciently slow.
Christopher was evidently uncomfortable around me. As a matter of fact, he was uncomfortably comfortable. It was a paradox being around him, meeting him and touching him again. That was the bliss of it, though. We were gradually returning to the relationship that we shared back in California.
I was just remembering California, my house there. I first left to go to New Orleans for Christopher, and I never returned…
The elevator abruptly stopped.
I knew this was too good to be true…
No; I pushed the thought away and looked to Christopher for a solution. It was so bizarre to look at him, to be in the same environment as him. “Don’t worry. Old buildings do this sometimes.” He informed me calmly. He was so calm that it seemed surreal.
As if his information was a promise, the elevator started back up again. I realized only when the elevator stopped that I hadn’t checked to see what floor he pressed.
As I discovered once we left the elevator, it was the roof.
It wasn’t the roof itself that was beautiful; it was the view of skyscraping office buildings and the rest of Manhattan. The air was polluted and thin, but still enjoyable. Anything was enjoyable with Christopher by my side.
“By my side,” I repeated the words aloud, absorbing the idea of him being here. Why did he bring me up on the roof anyway?
Privacy, of course.
We stood awkwardly yet easily in the middle of the roof, looking at each other. I looked into his eyes; they were so graceful, but held an amorphous symbolism. You would think that his broad smile would reflect in his eyes, but it didn’t. His eyes were like a still pool.
“Tell me, Ajahni,” he whispered. “Tell me everything.”
I didn’t have to ask him what he meant. He wanted to know what happened after he left. Before telling him, I had to think strategically. How would I organize the mess of my life into one long story for him? I then decided to leave the emotion part last, and describe only the events that took place first.
So I told him everything, about New Orleans and the hospital, and about Lucas. I told him about Hodgy and our almost-relationship, and then about my interactions with Roshon. Christopher’s eyes finally flickered with the slightest of emotion when I mentioned Roshon, and then I remembered what Roshon had told me. He was Christopher’s Forrest. Christopher held a special place for him in his heart.
But that no longer angered me. Nothing could upset me now.
Finally, when my timeline was over and it was time for me to express the emotions I felt, I looked over the roof to see the protestors gathering, news channels recording, and police officers urging more and more people out of the building. I wondered if they could see us, but didn’t dwell on it.
“I loved you with all my heart and emotions that existed beyond my heart, Christopher,” I told him. “But I hated you too. You caused me all this pain.”
“I didn’t mean to, Ajahni. I meant to come back to you. Remember my words? When you asked me if it was a promise that I loved you, I told you that I would die if it wasn’t. And I’m still here. I didn’t die before coming back to you. I kept that promise, Ajahni.” He told me, seriousness evincing on his face as he told me everything.
“So why didn’t you look for me?” I asked, my lip quivering uncontrollably. I wanted to believe him so badly, but I couldn’t. How? His actions opposed his words. The thinness of the air burned my eyes as I looked at him. Or maybe it was the dirtiness of the air.
“You know what’s funny? For every place you’ve been, I was right there with you. I was looking for you too, Ajahni. We were so close to you, but we’re so blind.” Christopher said. He was so right. I didn’t know how, but I just felt it. He was in the same place with me at the same time. I wanted to ask him for his story, for him to tell me what happened to him after he left, but I stayed quiet. That could be discussed in a calmer situation.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked hesitantly. My question was a determining one.
“Anything,” he offered. I exhaled and stared at him, past him.
“Are you willing to…?” I trailed off. I would finish, but just in a few seconds. I wanted to wait for the tightness of my throat to subside.
“To love you again? Girl, I never stopped.”
I smiled genuinely then. My own smile warmed my heart as I engulfed myself in his arms. I rested my head against his chest and listened keenly to his rhythmic heartbeat. We were back together.
“You know what looking for you was like?” I asked him. As I heard his heartbeat, all other sound seemed to drown out.
“Tell me.” He said, his mouth resting gently on the top of my head. His firm hold against me was more comforting than anything else, even his heart.
“It was like looking into black waters for a reflection. But nothing reflects from black waters, Christopher.” I told him.
“Ajahni,” he said slowly. “The waters are clear now.”
His heart suddenly began to beat faster. Much faster.
I looked up at him to see him watching something over the roof. When I tried to follow his gaze, I felt my own heart begin to beat faster.
“Whoever is up there, you have been warned! The demolition will proceed.” Someone called through a blow-horn below.
We had been warned, but we were too caught up in our own conversation to hear anything else. It was an excavator, leaping up from the sky like a snake’s head rises when it sees its prey. It was coated with dirt from what seemed to be a previous job. The top of it came closer and closer. Christopher didn’t let go. He actually held on to me tighter.
Finally, the excavator swooped down and clipped the end of the roof, its brick tumbling down. The machine hummed as it rose again. It was about to swoop once more.
Christopher looked at me, his face blank. He didn’t know what to do, which was rare for him. I smiled a little, though. I kissed him softly, and when I pulled back, he bit his lip bashfully.
We didn’t bother to move to the other end of the roof, to avoid the excavator, because it would be easier this way. It would be easier to stand and let the excavator swoop down above us as it was doing now, scraping the tops of our heads a little and bringing us down into the debris. It was easier to roll down the falling bricks and be crushed by the bricks themselves and the base of the excavator. It was easier to be poked with falling nails and bruised from concrete and rock. It was easier this way. It was easier to die.
Because in life, we would probably still struggle. But in death, we would be peaceful. We would make up for the time we lost tenfold, and we would be attached for the rest of eternity.
This was the end, but our end would be forever.
A/N: Last chapter, blah blah blah, thanks for supporting the story (even though there were more silent readers than readers that actually showed themselves for this story). There are other stories of mine you should read: A Slum Love Crime, Rolling Stone Savior, Cranberry Clairvoyant. Thank you! Btw, no sequel.