Friday, March 12, 2010

The Confession - Ethan Speaks

I watched as Kamryn got into her car and drove herself and our friendship away. Her scent lingered in the night air. She always smelled like a mix of coffee and spring time. I hated the way the bangs of her hair hid her eyes or how she was always catching strands in her mouth when she talked. She was so petite, I'd swear when it was windy she would blow away. And that dimple, that signature dimple. It was the cave in her cheek that held all the secret things that made her smile. And apparently, I was one of them. Or at least I was.


I walked into my apartment. Tired from the day. Drained from the conversation. I hated it when girls cried. I hated making them cry, but they always cried. Well Kamryn always cried. She's emotional. Always has been. Let her tell it however, she was passionate. Nah, I'd call it emotional. I smiled. We got into that debate a million times. I would always win, because the debate would end in Kamryn throwing a hissy fit. "See," I'd say, "case and point. Emotional." I shook my head and opened my refrigerator and then shook me head again as I closed it. Wish I hadn't pissed off Kam, then maybe I'd be eating right now. All I had to do was text her and tell her I was hungry and she'd prepare some elaborate meal. She loved to cook, so technically I was doing her the favor.

Her confession wasn't much of a confession to me as I believe it was to herself. I could look in her eyes and know that she loved me. Anyone could. Everyone did. I just pretended not to see it. Like I did with everything that involved change, vulnerability, and emotion. If I didn't see fit to acknowledge it, then it must not exist. That philosophy has gotten me far. Frustrates the heck out of everyone else though.
I got out my guitar. Les Paul Gibson. A gift. From Kamryn. I'm not a jerk. I love her. I do. Always have. I just can't love her the way she needs to be. The way she deserves to be.

I remember the first time I met Kamryn. She was with her mom and Sophia moving into the house next door. I was 16 at the time. Noah, who lived down the block from us wanted hot white chicks to move in. Zuri just didn't want any more white families coming in and taking over the neighborhood. I didn't care either way. In the end though, it seemed we all ended up being pleased with what we got. My mom made Zuri and I go introduce ourselves with her. After the initial introductions, Zuri and I offered to help with the moving. Southern hospitality. I could tell they weren't used to it. City girls.

"I can handle it," Sophia said when I reached out for the box she was holding. "

Ok then," I said as I lifted my hands in defeat. I looked over at Zuri who rolled her eyes and followed her into the house.

"I could use help with this one," Kamryn said pointing to box.


"Sure thing," I said. I went to lift it speedily and nearly stumbled over, surprised by its weight. "Shh.." I stopped myself, "what the heck is in this box?" I asked.


"Its just my books," she said softly.


"Guess you read a lot, " I said as I got a better grip and walked into the house.


"Yeah, but most of them were my fathers. He left them to me. He was a professor. But he died a few months ago," she said solemnly.


"Oh, sorry to hear that," I said uncomfortable with her truth.


"Thanks. It's the room to the left."


We walked into her room, which was an amazing. Windows that stretched from floor to ceiling lined the right side of the room and were accompanied by a window seat. The opposite wall was lined with espresso colored book shelves from floor to ceiling. I walked in the direction of the shelves, which had the beginnings of decor: photos of Kam, her sister and others.


"So you're a cheerleader? Middle school out here doesn't have sports."


"Really? Well that really doesn't matter to us, considering we're both in high school," she retorted.


"My bad, you looked kinda young."


"Yeah, I get that all the time. I'm 17. Sophia is 15."


"And you're the oldest? Never would have thought that."


"Yeah. Get that all the time too."


"Well I'm on the varsity basketball team," I boasted.


"You a senior too?"


"Nah, a sophomore."


"Guess you look a lot older than your age," she said with a smile and at that moment I was formerly introduced to that dimple.


"Yeah, I get that a lot," I smiled back.


Zuri and I ended up spending that entire day with the Williams sisters. I called Noah over and he helped to. We got them all moved in and then Mom invited them over and Dad cooked out on the grill. I watched the girls carefully. They were both very pretty but polar opposites from each other. Sophia was tall, her skin dark, but complexion smooth and gorgeous. She had a cute round face and a button nose. She was built like an athlete. She was forceful, loud, smart-mouthed, daring, independent. She didn't look or act like a girl who had just lost her dad. Kam was petite. Small stature. Fit, but curvy in all the right places. Mocha-colored. Reserved. Well-poised. Observant. Cautious. Kam wore the worry in her heart on her face.


Time passed and it was always the 5 of us. It's like we were each random dots, connected by the lines of chance to make a family. Through high school sports, homecoming dances, stealing liquor out of our parents liquor cabinets and getting trashed. Through boyfriends and girlfriends, college applications, snowboarding trips, college parties, through my parent's divorce, Noah's mom's sickness, Soph's PMS moments, Kam's valedictorian speech, me, Soph's & Noah's senior prank... I could fill countless of pages filled with priceless memories.


It always amazed me, how as a group we were all close, but individually we held our own relationships as well. I vibed more with Soph. We were a lot alike. I could hang with Soph for hours doing absolutely nothing. Soph could hold her own if I picked a fight, verbally or otherwise. I could tell crude jokes around her without worrying she'd be offended. She was one of the guys, but as we got older I began to notice how much of a girl she was. I reserved it in the back of my mind, visited it once, made promises never to visit it again. Soph and I had our secrets. Secrets Noah or Kam or Zuri didn't know about. Secrets that were the reason Kam cried tonight, though she would never know it.


Kam was the mother of us all. Her soul way older than she was. She was like a security blanket. I knew I could always count on her. I allowed myself to tell her things I wouldn't tell anyone else. Asked her questions about girls, let her cook for me, talk to her about music. Kam intimidated me, with her it always had to mean something, she was always trying to read in between the lines. She knew what I needed way before I even knew I needed it. She nurtured and catered. I knew Kam could see me for who I really was and that terrified me. Naturally, I was physically attracted to Kam as well. But with Kam it was overwhelming. With Soph it was easy...


The next morning I woke up to a text message from Soph. It read, "She told you how she felt didn't she?"


I responded, "Yeah."


"Did you tell her about us?" she replied minutes later.


"I told you I wouldn't," I texted back.


When I got her reply back I swear I could hear her sigh of relief, "Thank you."


I asked her how Kam was doing.


"How do you think?"


Then I thought of a better question, "How are you doing?"


Her response, a duplicate of her answer before, "How do you think?"






Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Mis - a prefix applied to various parts of speech, meaning “ill,” “mistaken,” “wrong,” “wrongly,” “incorrectly,” or simply negating

miss us
miss trust
our love
mistaken
for lust
mistakes
misguided us
to pulling apart
instead of sticking in it for the long run
misused time
misunderstood
words spoken
misread
what was in between the lines
miss the way you held me in your arms
misled by logic
misrepresented the truth
miss sunday mornings
pancakes and orange juice
mysterious
the hold i have on you
miss us
ms. ty
misses love

Monday, February 22, 2010

Words

words
your words
just words
empty as my heart
shh!
stop speaking
you're tearing us apart
useless
so use less
words
your words
just words
care to elaborate with actions?
show me what you won't say
do my tears speak to you?
can you hear the pain that runs through my veins?
words
your words
just words
pen to paper
kiss to cheek
you turn around
walk away
and "good-bye, love"
were the last words you chose to speak...
words
your words
more than
just words
cuz they cut me deep

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Year After

"Got the snack bag!" I yelled to Sophia as we packed up the truck.

"Got the fun bag!" she yelled back.

"Noah, what did you bring?" I asked Sophia's boyfriend.

"My good looks?" he said sarcastically.

"Hmm...yeah that's not good enough," I smiled back.

"Its good enough for Sophia," he answered.

"Actually that's only good enough if it comes with a tank of gas to put in this good ol' SUV," Sophia responded.

Noah laughed, "Black girls, you got to love them."

"And love her you do, " I said. Noah was good for Soph. He made her laugh. He challenged her. He charmed her. He supported her. He was tall, broad, dirty blond hair, green eyes. He was a med student at John Hopkins. He was her best friend. And best of all I adored him. Their friendship turned into love. Sometimes it does work out that way. Sometimes.

Noah caught me in thought, "You going to be okay with seeing him?" he asked. He knew me all to well.



"Yeah, I'll be fine. We've all moved on. I'm fine." I said trying to convince herself.



"She's fine," Sophia repeated. "We're going to support Zuri and her wedding. We all have been friends for a long time,we should be able to put aside the awkwardness and return to what made us click in the first place. This is going to be an awesome trip. So let's go, already!"



"We have to wait. James is coming by to see me off," I said.



"And then there's James," Soph grinned. "See, she's fine."



I smiled at Soph and the thought of James. James was an elementary music teacher by day and a hot bass guitarist by night. We met at Barnes and Nobel in the poetry section. I was perusing the aisles talking on my cell phone, loudly debating with my editor. Suddenly a tap on my shoulder startled me. I turned around and there he was in all his glory. Tall, at least 6'3, broad shoulders, hair cut low, skin silky smooth mocha and caramel blended into one. His lips looked like they tasted sweet. His jeans hugged him perfectly and the green sweater complimented his perfect complexion. He had a man purse over his shoulder and it one motion he put his finger to his lips and told me to "Shh". I was too entranced to be offended, so i just nodded, mouthed, "I'm sorry," and walked away embarrassed. We crossed paths again at the check out line.


"So who won the argument," he asked me.


"The jury's still out on that one, " I said sheepishly.


"Well for the record, two people don't have to make love to have a connection. If you don't think you characters would go to that level, then don't write it."


"Wow, I was really loud, huh?" I asked.


"I would call it passionate," he said smiling, showing his Colgate smile.


"Thanks, I just wish my editor would understand that."


"It's difficult. There's a fine line between not compromising your art and trying to make a living off of it," he said.


"Are you a writer?" I asked him wondering how it was he saw my soul.


"A songwriter. My name is James," he said extending his hand.


"I'm Kamryn," I said taking his hand in mine.


"Kamryn Williams? You write pieces for Essence magazine?"


"Guilty as charged."


"I enjoy your editorials. Definitely. Don't compromise. You can tell you write from the heart. Stay true to yourself."


"Thanks. I didn't think guys read my stuff," I said, thinking great, he has to be gay. Of course he is.


As if he read my mind, he answered, "Well I guess being a musician I am in touch with my sensitive side, but I'm not gay." He laughed.


I noticed his dimples. "Thank God," I thought. I just smiled.


"Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Its not everyday I meet a published writer. I'd like to pick your brain."


I hesitated. It had been three months since my confession to Ethan. We hadn't spoken in that time. I was leery, but intrigued. "Sure," I answered.


And James and I had been dating ever since.


"Here comes James now," Noah said bringing me back to present day. James pulled up in his black Maxima, parked his car and got out.


"Hey baby girl," he said pulling me close and kissing me on the forehead. "You all ready to go?"


"Yes," I whined. "But I wish you were going with me."


"I know. Me too. But I have students I have to teach. I'll be there on the day of the wedding."


"But I want you to come now!"


"Stop whining. Take this time reminisce with your friends. Support Zuri and make peace with Ethan," he said.


I looked up into his eyes. They were filled with worry. "I'm at peace with Ethan, James. I told you that. You have nothing to worry about," I comforted him.


"I know. I know. I'm just jealous. You have history with him."


"History that's history. I love you James Taylor," I said sincerely.


"I know babe. But you love him too," he kissed me on the lips and left the words in between us as he walked away.


I said nothing. Didn't dispute it. Argue. Just left it in the air. Terrified it was the truth.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Morning After

"I got a feeling! Ooh, Ooh! That tonight's going to be a good night! That tonight's going be a good, good night!" my phone alarm rang.



"Noo.." I moaned. It couldn't possibly be morning already.



"I got a feeling! Ooh, Ooh!" my alarm starts to sing again. I turn over, grab the phone and shut it off.



"Ouch!" my head is ringing. The sun burns my eyes. I try and bury myself under my down comforter.



"Rough night?" I hear a familiar voice ask.



"Rough would be an understatement," I mumbled.



"Obviously," Sophia, my roommate and younger sister says as she crawls to the edge of my bed and waits for me to elaborate. I don't. Instead I try and recall the events of last night. Waiting on Ethan's steps, confessing, driving home in tears, opening the first bottle of wine, then the second, watching my favorite scenes from Brown Sugar...



"So, you told him, huh? she asked.



"He called you?" I yelled, shot up from under the covers, forgetting the pain in my head from my wine hangover and quickly laid back down.



"No, he didn't. Calm down. The bottles of wine, cookie dough package and Brown Sugar menu screen, say a lot love."



Crap! It was pathetic. My younger sister caught me being pathetic. She's caught me being or doing much, but pathetic was something I hoped remained my secret. "Yeah, I told him," I sighed. My eyes started to tear up. "It was so embarrassing, Soph. Like I just yelled at him that I loved him and rambled on and on and all he could muster up to say was something about taking a step back."



"You think that maybe that might be the best thing right now."



"It may be the best thing, but it could also be the worse."



"Why would it be the worse thing? Because you love him and he doesn't love you in the same way?"



"Because my love could have just cost me my best friend," I said.



There was a pause. A marination of thoughts. Its funny how loud silence can be. Because Soph couldn't come up with a response told me she knew I was right. No matter how Ethan and I tried to recover from this, it would always be different between us. My words left stains that neither of us could remove. We could cover up, overlook, pretend they aren't there, but under the surface we would always be well aware.



"So what are you going to do now? Drink your life away," she said with a smile. She was great at that. Moving on. Even after Daddy died, she just picked up and moved on like it didn't phase her. I admired her strength to hold it together, even if it was her weakness.



"Coffee," I sighed. "Right now, I need lots and lots of coffee." I started to pull myself out of the bed. There was a slight spin to the room. Soph got up with me, put her arm through mine.



"Its going to be okay. I promise. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day it will be okay. You've been through worse."



"I know. Just sucks, that's all," I said as I pulled away from her and headed to my bathroom.



"I'll make your coffee, kay sis."



"Ok. Thanks," I said solemnly.



"Kamryn, look at it this way: his life, his choice, his loss," she shrugged her shoulders and walked out the door.



"Or mine," I thought.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Self Examination... Gets Me Every Time

I'm better THAN that
I deserve MORE than this
I AM worthy of love...

Let me speak to you
And though my words may cut
And they may bruise
They will indeed heal you

What you want and what you need
Are always two different things
The heart and the mind always fight
And they fight to win

But in order to change what you need
Into what you want
You must believe in your worth

So say it with me my child,
And say it loud and clear

I'm better THAN that
I deserve MORE than this
I AM worthy of love...

Which means I need more than you...

Time to let it go, Ty.

Time
to
let
it
go...

*****************

Funny how life works. How the unknown reveals itself. How that which has been known all along suddenly ephifanizes... if that's a word... The cycle won't break unless I break the cycle. Find the root of the problem and correct it. I give to much of myself to easily.. and no, not in the unchaste type of way. But in every relationship I have with most, they don't have to earn it. They don't have to fight for it. I just give it. Because of that fear. That underlying fear of being alone. But you're not alone, are you Ty? Nope. You have the relationship with your Heavenly Father, you have your precious joy, Makaai...you have more than most. So stop being afraid. Okay. Done. HA! Yeah right. Wish it was that easy. But like most things, I'm working on it. What is mankind right now anyway but a work in progress? So my theme for 2010: NO FEAR. TAKE THE RISK. ENJOY THE RIDE. LOVE YOURSELF. LOVE YOUR LIFE.

Let's see how it goes...

Monday, January 11, 2010

Regret

Six letters
Two syllables
But right in between the R and the T
Sits me

Taking two steps forward
Only to be knocked twenty steps back
The ability to tell you "no"
Is an ability I lack

Growing up
But acting young
Maturity shows up at its convenience
And in its absence loneliness, desire and want takes its place
When I close my eyes I still see your face

Do you wish you could take it back?
Erase every moment,
Every word,
Every touch...
How is it that I miss what I've never had this much?

Six letters
Two syllables
Seems empty on paper as it leaks from my pen
But so full in my heart and soul within
And right in between the R and the T
Sits you and me