On a warm evening in early September, we said goodbye. I stood outside of my apartment building clinging to you, desperate to memorize your scent and the way your body felt molded against mine. All those months earlier, I’d jumped out of an Uber in the middle of a rainstorm in Harlem, nonchalant and unexpecting. You “got” me from the jump, your sexy stoic nature, matching my whimsical and often outlandish one. Over Sylvia’s Soul Food right off of 125th street, I felt my soul reconnecting with an old friend. I was so floored by that feeling that I told you then, on that first date (never one to hold much back) and you laughed, taking no offense because you inherently understood.
Long winding walks through the Bronx zoo, pizza and Disney flicks, and milkshakes. The reverence that you showed me and my brown skin, kisses at 4 am, back rubs and black silk sheets and so much freedom to speak; to be me. I floated through those long sticky days; secret smiles a constant on my face.
I’ve always thought summer had magical qualities, (perhaps it’s because I was born in the middle of July), and that proved true because it brought me you. As I sit in silence now, the scent of my zillion candles wafting through my apartment, I can still see you and hear you; as if your arms were still around me. That loud laughter that you always inspired; bubbling up inside of me beginning to be released; desperate to be released.
That’s the thing about flings, though; they exist in a magical snow globe of sorts; encasing you in protectively from the world as all of that marvelous joy swirls around you. But inevitably you shake the globe too hard and the glass cracks, splintering up the sides until it shatters completely; leaving you bare and exposed; but wistful and longing nonetheless.
xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxo
Image: 20th Century Fox/Carmen Jones