Check, Please?

The first time I appeared I made a grand entrance.

I had just finished eating a dinner that was a little under $400. I watched as he pulled out his American Express and rudely motioned for our waiter. His rudeness was brazen and abrupt, as usual, but tonight it was unsettling. If anything I had become immune to this type of behavior and his disdain for the working class. He looked up from his Rolex and smiled at me. It was genuine and endearing; polar opposite of the attitude towards the waiter that had preceded this one. For a moment I thought I could do it again; I could love and live life the way he wanted us to. Then I watched as he pulled a Harry Winston diamond ring from his pocket. That moment had slipped away and now, I saw depth in all those things of my former self. Throughout dinner I told him about my morning meditation on the beach, how working had made me more responsible, as well as spending less money and my volunteer work. He nodded as I spoke but I knew him so well. His lack of inquisitive probing and demure responses demonstrated that he had no interest. He was still self absorbed and my summer away had only made him more persistent in his selfish pursuits. He would play the role like an actor until the end of the script had been reached; he'd be out of character then.

As he reached for my hand he stated, “I’ve loved you for half a decade and for the next half I’d like to love you as my wife. Will you marry me?” Tears began to fall from my eyes. I cried because I knew I had to let go of something that at one point I had fought so hard to keep. This was a man who loved me deeply and his loyalty to me had never been broken. His love for me was never in question. But I did question if he could love me the way that I needed.

Three months in Los Angeles had stripped me of my narcissism and incessant quest for material possessions. One afternoon in late May, while laying on the beach, my friend had asked “Who are you? I need to know who I am beyond being privileged. What about you?” I shrugged as I reclined back and closed my eyes. I know I look great in my $500 Dolce&Gabbana swimsuit, I had thought to myself. I heard her sigh of exasperation at my lack of introspection. I laid in bed that night and decided that summer I, too would begin to discover who I was.

It was in this moment, there at the dinner table, that I realized I had been given an answer to my question. I had determined that I was not who I thought I was; who I had been pretending to be. Nor was I who he wanted me to be. With tears in my eyes I told him, “No. I won’t marry you and I will not get back with you. It’s over.” One of the most difficult moments of my life was perhaps the most freeing.

…Become yourselves

The Black Swan

The New York City air was crisp as my friend and I shuffled through the crowd towards the box office. Our excitement was highly visible with our jubilant smiles as we handed the box office attendant our tickets. She placed our stubs on the counter and smugly pointed towards the COLORED SECTION. Lisa and I had to work extra nights waiting tables at The Cotton Club just to afford the nose bleed section. But we knew that this would be worth it. Janet Collins was going to be the first African American woman to perform at The Metropolitan Opera House having a solo in Aida. Being dancers at The East Harlem School of Dance, we had decided that on opening night we would be apart of a definitive moment.

The theatre lights were dimmed and the spotlight appeared on Janet. She was beautiful as she grazed back and forth across the stage. Her body was as light as a feather as she twirled and leaped. I was in euphoria and felt a tear run down my cheek. There was no longer anyone in the theatre as I watched her every move; her lines were clear and the way she executed the cabriole was unlike anything earthly. As she disappeared from the stage the crowd erupted in a thunderous roar of applause.

As we left the theatre and made our way to the train station all I could think about was Ms. Collins and the barriers that she had just broken. Her graceful strokes and elegant strides had been imprinted into my mind. Ms. Collins was guarded and just as equally vulnerable.

She was a swan.

The Black Swan.

WOE-DERFUL

I shifted my bodyweight, it was my last attempt at any sense of comfort in this cheap motel bed.

“Maybe, next time we could try a nice hotel; perhaps downtown. What do you think, Sheldon? “ I asked slightly yelling so he could hear me over the running water.

Silence.

I knew he had heard every word but this was typical Sheldon. He was a man who hated change and spontaneity to him was super sizing his meal at McDonalds. His wife was either completely oblivious or just chose to ignore his philandering ways. Sheldon had been bringing me to this same motel for the past year and even I knew his routine like clockwork.

“Sheldon!” I yelled. I wasn’t in the mood to be ignored.
“What is it Elisha? You know I have to pick up my wife from the airport tonight.”

His wife. I hated that word. I hated her. He had told me that he was unhappy and he had never clicked so much with anyone the way that he did with me. This was over a year ago yet he was still married and I was still being treated like the mistress.

“I want you to divorce her, Sheldon. It’s been almost a year and a half and you still wake up and fall asleep with her. I am beginning to think that you have been lying to me.” I said as I removed the cigarette scented comforter.

“Here we go again. Elisha---”
“Sheldon! I love you. She doesn’t make you happy. Why don’t you just file for a divorce like you were going to do when we first met? I know that we are soul mates. I know you feel it too.”

I hadn’t realized I was crying. Not only was I crying, I was shaking. Sheldon had never seen me this way before and I couldn’t control it. When I was with him I was so elated. Sure, I was 25 years old and he was 42, but love does not discriminate. Sheldon walked from the bathroom fastening his shirt. He sat down next to me on the bed and smoothed out my hair. He breathed deep and kissed my hand. “I love you too. It’s not that simple Elisha. Life is more complex than what you think. You’re young; live a little longer and you will see. I have to go. I will call you in a few days. Get some rest.” Sheldon grabbed his keys from the coffee table and walked out the door.

Week after week, this had become our routine. I scanned the ill decorated motel and softly began to weep. When I first started seeing Sheldon, my best friend disapproved and told me that I would never find happiness with him. She predicted that it would never go anywhere beyond the bedroom. I had told her she was wrong and he would leave his wife.

Not my best friend, his wife, nor his children would stand in the way of that.

This was wonderful.

DISCLAIMER: I do not support nor do I condone extramarital affairs. This is a fictional story with fictional characters.

LOVE'S ABYSS inspired by Grizzly Bear cover of "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)"

I took one last drag of the cigarette before throwing it down. It was as if time was moving in slow motion as it hit the floor. I watched as the flame flickered lightly; it looked good on the avant garde autumn brown rug. For a second I contemplated the entire room being consumed in a red and orange fiery. He always said he admired art and such that could be felt. What's realer than the wonderful aroma of a penthouse in ashes? I stomped out the cigarette and walked to the bathroom. My face throbbed, my back ache, and my legs were feeble. My father always told my mother that love without anarchy is a love without passion and real love embodied passion. As I examined my face and watched the blood drip from my lip, I thought to myself "At least it's only a minor cut ". Once I had to wear shades for a week, countless concealer, and loads of foundation. I washed my face and slid on the lavendar dress that had been sitting on the bed. I pulled my hair back and covered my lips in Bobbi Brown Burnt Red lipstick, this was the only shade that didn't make me look like a hooker; that's what he would say. Most women dated men who could care less about their make-up so I considered myself lucky; he took interest in nearly every facet of who I was.

As he entered the apartment, I could feel the cold air from outside. He stood there, sullen.

"You look pretty", he said flatly. I nodded and began to fasten my shoes.

"I'm sorry... sometimes my passion for you gets the best of me." He grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

I breathed deeply and succumbed to his arms. Dad was right---I touched my lip and smiled.

PT. II

I watched her as she packed her bags, gathered her belongings, and removed every tangible item that represented our times together. She looked at me disgruntled and hurt. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked coyly.

"I've never been more sure about anything." I said boldly as I opened the door.

She looked me up and down before rolling her eyes. "I will wait for your call. As a matter of fact, I am beginning to get tired of moving in and out. I can give you your space if that is what you need, just let me leave a few of my things here."

I sighed. She was right. We always said goodbye and hello again. I always eventually let her come back. Each time I told myself this time it would be different and it never was. I rolled her suggestion over in my mind for a moment...then I saw her eyes.

She was skilled at deception, rebellion, lust, lies, and anarchy.

"No, you know what, I want you to leave. This isn't easy for me, I admit that, but all I can do is take it one moment at a time. Now, please, GO."

At that moment she walked towards the door defeated and powerless; and at that moment I said goodbye to my former self.

The Beckoning

"And I Know

And I Know

And I Know...

I know what you like

Everything you love

I know what you like

Everything you love....

She fiends for me nightly

She leans for me
Morning she rush for my touch

This is about LUST

Cold sweats occur when I'm not with her

My presence is a must- must- must..."

She called me today, I smiled. I told her I was thinking about her. She said she missed me. Last time we had fun, we went and danced all night. Even on her chilly nights she always warms me up. She thrills me better than anything else. I feel like she belongs to me although millions of people love her. She says don't you like how I make you feel? Don't you enjoy who you are with me? I sit quietly. I do. She lifts me up and whirls me away "come on jessie....follow me, i hold the key to your dreams". i extend my hand, she grabs it "dont worry, youre with me" she says. "explore me, touch me, seek, you never know what you will find. I know you are curious". I decide to let go, i'm free falling.....

*hits the ground*

She looks different.

Sinister. Evil.

TO BE CONTINUED...

TITLE: NONE GIVEN

My recent trip to NYC was an exhilirating and introspective one.

I discovered a lot about myself.

The city represented freedom to me. A city where people could be whoever and do whatever. I understand why a plethora of creative minds migrate there. As I rode the train I created a story as I saw these two completely different people sit next to each other. My story could be completely off but it's my story so I can do what I want with it :-)

The guy was white in his mid 20's. A student at Columbia who came from old money. He was vibrant in his Ralph Lauren preppy button down, dockers and Ferragamos. The girl was a black teenager. She was quiet and a good student but grew up in a harsh environment. The train brought these two worlds together. I never got any farther than that. I soon remembered where I was and tried to become alert. LOL.

Though I am a bit spacey at times, I actually overthink alot. Especially when it comes to my writing. Being in NYC helped my creativity flow freely.

NYC also represented oppression. If there are places that could be called "God cities" then this is definitely a "god-less" one. IDK....I was going to title this article fireflies. During the day we never notice them. To us they are just another insect invading our personal space. But at night, we not only notice them, we are somewhat in amazement. How does this creation have a natural glow? It's wired inside of them. It's inately apart of what they are. You may notice some glow brighter than others although they are all made the same. I think we are all like fireflies to be honest.

Ever notice how sometimes in the day you can see their light? Awe-inspiring.