#I WANNA HUG AND KIIIIISS YOU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unpopcorned · 7 years

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“Hey, ‘Sika, you seen my headphones?”

“I’ve been home - like, six minutes and you’re already asking.”

“Y’seen ‘em or not?”

Masika shrugs a shoulder, pulls a lavender shirt from her suitcase and tosses it onto the bed, “In the living room. By the recliner.”

“Thanks,” Even with her telling him, Sam still lingers in the doorway of her old room, eyeing her. He’s gone through another growth spurt, a little over six feet now. It looks like he hasn’t really gotten used to it - hands and feet still a little too big. She can’t help but wondering when he’ll stop shooting up, he’s twenty now, “You like it out there?”

“Out where?”

“In the city. All those people. College.”

She shrugs again, nonplussed, “Yeah. Why? You thinking about it?”

“Maybe,” he’s never been the decisive type, he bites at his upper lip uncertainly. He looks like dad when he makes that face, “Ma’s been on my ass ‘bout it.”

“You sit around all day, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t sit around all day. I got a job.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Burger place. Darius hooked me up.”

Her hands slow - carefully, she continues folding the pair of jeans in her hands, looking up to meet his eyes, “Darius? You been hanging out with Darius?”

“Not really. Andre and Steph lemme come around though,” He leans against her doorway. Masika knows her brother well - he’s a little more introverted than her and Kurt, she can’t imagine him around someone as loud as Andre. But she doesn’t say that, she’s not the older sibling here, even if she may feel as though she is sometimes, “They cool.”

“You like the job?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Mmm,” Masika nods, folds another shirt onto the bed - she’s planning to move the pile into the dresser soon, “You should start lookin’ online. If you wait around for somethin’ to happen, you’re gonna end up like Gran.”

“Y’say that all the time.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He’s already waving her off, leaving her bedroom to go and search what he came for in the first place. Masika exhales, pushes curly hair from her forehead - her room had always been the most stuffy, the heat blowing at full wasn’t helping any. Sometimes, she doesn’t understand Sam. No initiative, no motivation, she doesn’t know where it came from. There’s only so much she can do or say, he seems like the type that would be comfortable where he is now for the rest of his life.

She supposes nothing is wrong with that. At least, for him. Sometimes, she has a hard time believing they’re brother and sister.

Masika does a slow once over of her old bedroom - it still looks the same. Purple wallpaper with butterflies, matching dresser and tan carpet. A few posters and awards here and there. Mostly for academics. And then she spots her graduation picture on the far wall - her smiling face, Andre next to her, along with his ex-girlfriend and her classmate Dondria. Seems like a long time ago now.

By the time she leaves her room, the sun is already setting. She’d hoped to be out of the house much sooner, at least before her father got home. When she enters the kitchen, the first person she spots is her mother finishing up her homemade casserole, Uncle Eli was sitting at the table, a piece of half-eaten garlic bread in front of him. Masika passes by the couch in the living room, Sam is sitting there with his headphones in his ears, laptop in front of him ( Masika doesn’t know how that thing still manages to run ).

“You’re finished? Already?” Her mother asks when she gets close enough. Masika tries to reach over and swipe some food, it results in a swift pop to the back of her hand, “You better not have left any clothes laying around.”

“I didn’t,” Masika grouses, rubs at her finger.

“Good,” She looks back towards Elijah, “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

He shrugs, exchanging a look with his niece, “I should start headin’ back. Got lots of paperwork to finish.”

“You’re always workin’. Stay and eat. What would Mama say?” He looks close to rolling his eyes, and Tatiana glances at Masika, “Go and wash up for dinner. Your dad will be home in a minute.”

Masika’s shoulders tense up, “Actually...I was gonna go eat somewhere else.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” Her mother’s thin eyebrows have picked up high on her forehead.

Masika avoids her eyes, “Darius’.”

“Ohhhh,” Obviously, Sam’s earplugs must’ve not been very high, he pulls one from his ear, grinning in their direction, “You still tryin’ to get with Darius? Outta your league, sis.”

“More like the other way around,” Her mother mutters, to which Elijah shrugs at, “That boy still at his mama’s house.”

“So is Sam,” Masika points out, irritated, “You don’t nag at him.”

“Sam is a child.”

“He’s older than me!”

Speaking of her brother, he’s entered the kitchen now, carefully balancing his laptop with one hand. Hopefully, it doesn’t fall - Masika doubts their parents will buy another one, “You liiiiike Darius. You like Dariiiuus. You wanna kiiiiiss him, you wanna fuuuuck him--”

“Samuel!”

“My bad, ma’.”

Masika swats at her brother’s shoulder, he skillfully dodges, “Shut up.”

“Good comeback, sis. You ain’t denyin’ it though.”

“I do not like Darius.”

“Good,” Elijah grunts from the table, “You could do better.”

Before Masika can protest, her mother is already speaking up, “What happened to that cute boy from your school? What was his name - Tyler?”

Masika’s nose wrinkles up, immediately she shakes her head, “He didn’t like my music.”

“Means he’s got good tastes,” Masika tries to hit her brother again, he sticks garlic bread into his mouth and flees back to the living room, “You missed!”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too concerned with that, Masika? It’s a pattern here, baby. First, Jermaine, then Gregory, Len, now Tyler--”

“Which one is Jermaine?” Elijah has looked up from his watch, which he’d been checking randomly, “Did you bring him home?”

“I never bring any of them home. You know why? ‘Cause they’re--” She catches the look her mother gives her, “‘cause they’re jerks.”

“You gotta put all your attention on a man. If you don’t, you ain’t gonna keep one.”

“Tati, don’t tell her no bullshit like that--”

“It ain’t! It’s the truth. Put yourself out there, sweetheart. One-hundred percent. You putting music over finding a good man ain’t gonna do any good for you...”

By then, Masika has already tuned them out. She nods subconsciously along with her mother’s words, it’s turned into ( “blah blah blah blah blah and another thing, blah blah” ) before Masika finally speaks up again, “Ma’, I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine, fine. You’re missin’ out though. Be back by ten.”

“Sure.” Maybe even later, if it meant not seeing her father’s face. She’d prefer to avoid him at all costs. There’s a chilling breeze when she makes it outside, Masika shrugs on her thick jacket, down the stairs of the porch and walking past Uncle Eli’s old car. Each stone on the sidewalk is different - some chipped at the ends, some with graffiti, some with chalk drawings, a line of them with a faded hopscotch board, Masika half-assed does it, nearly trips on the last one.

“Masika! Sweetie, is that you?”

It’s a familiar voice, Masika turns her head in its direction, lighting up when she sees Old Miss Patricia sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth on her old chair. Masika walks over, lingers by the steps, the elder woman watches her, bright brown eyes and all. Even with her husband passing away a few years ago, she still manages a smile.

“Hey, Mrs. G,” Masika stops on the second porch step, “You doin’ alright?”

The woman nods, she’s smiling down at her, “Mhmm. Diabetes messin’ up a little, but I’m good. Real good. Better seein’ you, baby. How’re you?”

“I’m great,” she replies, “Can’t complain, you know?”

“You gotten so big...” She’s staring at her, a fond look in her eyes, “I just saw Sam the other day, I remember when he was this big,” She makes a vague gesture with her thin hand, a few inches from the ground, “And that - that boy that used to come around here...”

“Andre?”

“No, no...that boy - that boy needs to learn some manners, Andre,” She shakes her head, “Always walkin’ around with a new girl, every time I see him.”

“You gotta stop spying out your window, Mrs. G. It’ll just make you angry.”

“Mmm...but - that boy. That used to come around here. Devin...DeQuan...”

“Darius?”

“Yes! HIm. I saw him and we were talking. Such a sweet boy. He’s gotten so big too. I told him - he needs to do somethin’ about that hair. I never seen a boy with so much hair...”

“Yeah,” Masika’s smiling, looking down to her shoes and then back to Mrs. G, “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I’m here for a couple weeks, I can come around and help you clean the house.”

“I’m fine, baby. Thank you. Your mama comes over here all the time. She’s trying to make me fat.”

With how much weight she has lost, Masika doesn’t blame her. But still, she keeps her smile. They only talk for a few moments longer, Masika makes a mental note to stop by again and help how she could, whether Mrs. G wanted it or not, “Mrs. G, don’t stay out here all night, okay? It’s gonna get cold.”

The elder woman only waves her off. So, Masika will be sure to check on her when she’s heading home later. Darius’ house is a few blocks away - farther than it was before since her parents had recently moved into a house with better plumbing. On her way there, she spots a police car slowly making its way down the street, graffiti on the wall of an old store, a group of men lingering outside of a liquor place.

As much as she’d missed home, it’s a little easy not to miss it as well.

A knock on the door, she hears muffled voices from inside - probably the television. Mrs. Jordan looks as pretty as ever when she answers the door. Pretty, but still very tired. The bags under her eyes never seem to disappear, no matter how many years pass.

“Masika?” Her expression lifts, she looks surprised and then beyond happy. She opens the door quickly, taking Masika into an almost too-tight hug, “Hey, baby girl! You look - I mean...” She holds Masika at arms’ length to get a better look at her, “How long it’s been, hm?”

“Few months,” Masika is practically beaming - Mrs. Jordan was definitely like a second mother to her, there was no denying that, “How’re you?”

“Good, I’m doing good. Still got a full house,” she drops her hands, looks at Masika in slight awe before she twists her mouth lightly to the side, “Y’know, you always show up at the most terrible times, girl. I got called into work, late shift. But we need to catch up.”

“My mom is having Sunday dinner this weekend. If you wanna come--”

“Of course. I’ll be there. I’ll bring the boys--Oh! Hurry up and come inside before it gets cold,” She pulls Masika inside of the house, and Masika quickly disposes of her shoes and jacket. The smell is homey, brings back old memories of crayons and running until you’re out of breath and cooking late at night, “Had to drop the boys off at my mother’s for the weekend, peace and quiet. Finally.”

Masika steps further into the room, spots someone moving out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Jordan puts her hands on her hips, “Darius! Come and say hi, boy.”

Darius looks the same, just like the last time she’d seen him. A couple times, she’d came to see him out of worry, after the funeral. Masika shifts in spot, looks at him expectantly. He doesn’t disappoint, as soon as he sees her, this cheesy grin comes to her face - a familiar smile, a bittersweet smile - and he’s stepping forward to hug her tight, rocking them both side to side.

“’Ey, Miss College.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” When he pulls away slightly, Masika grips his shoulders, looking him up and down, “You getting taller?”

“Nah, nah,” he looks close to laughing and he does - he’s gained some of his weight back, she can tell, “Your brother like a pole, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you gettin’ shorter.”

“Yeah? I’m gettin’ shorter.”

“Your hair’s all big - tryin’ to create an illusion and everythin’.”

“Boy--”

“Look at you two, hm?” Mrs. Jordan hasn’t left yet, she’s standing off to the side, watching them, “Remember when you guys used to build forts all over the room with the covers and--”

“Maaaaaa’,” Darius lightly complains, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling.

“I’m just sayin’! You two are so cute--Lemme get my camera real quick--”

“You gonna be late,” Darius tells her, almost laughing, “Ma’, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay,” His mother is already grabbing her purse and jacket. She gives both Masika and Darius kisses to the cheek, “I’ll be back later, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, ma’.” Darius watches her leave, closes the door after her. Masika begins to look around - things are still the same. A laundry basket in the corner, the same couch, TV in front of it, shoes almost everywhere. His mother still keeps things as clean as possible, even with four boys. It’s kind of amazing, “How long you in town for?”

Masika turns to face him, he’s making his way slowly over to her side, hands deep in his pockets. She shrugs a shoulder, “Mom wants me to stay a couple weeks. Might not.”

Darius eyes her for a few seconds, “'Cause your pops?”

“Yeah.” It’s nothing new - her dad wasn’t her favorite person in the world. She places her bag on the end of the couch, glancing towards a particularly photo on the wall - it’s of Darius, maybe around seven or eight, standing over a birthday cake, his mother looks younger in the photo. Younger, but still very tired, “You...doing okay?”

Their eyes meet, Darius stares at her. Then snorts some, thumbs at the corner of his mouth, “You ain’t--” A pause, “You ain’t gotta ask me that.” She remains silent, licks at her lips, “You ain’t gotta treat me like - y’know.”

“I know,” She tells him, her voice has quieted, “Sorry I haven’t been around.”

“It’s cool. Y’busy, Masika,” he moves past her, and she turns around to follow his every movement. He sits onto the couch, putting a notebook on the end table beside him.

“What if I say I’m not too busy for you?” She’s teasing, coming to his right to sit next to him. The couch dips slightly under her weight - the springs are so old.

He looks at her again, amused, “Yeah, you funny. Got jokes.”

She gets comfortable beside him, leaning the side of her head into her palm, “Mrs. G was talkin’ about you today.”

“Yeah, I be goin’ over there to help with her yard. She always outside. Her daughter was there the other day--”

“Diamond?”

He nods, “Talking about moving her into a home.”

Masika frowns, leans forward slightly, “Really?”

“Yeah, sucks.” He’s quiet for a moment, “You gone by Andre’s?”

Masika almost rolls her eyes, “Why? Has he done something?”

“Messin’ around with Lexi, from down the street.”

“Alexis Mitchell? The one with--”

“Yeah, yeah, her. Sayin’ she pregnant and shit. Andre been duckin’ and dodgin’ at different people’s house. Watch out for him.” Darius looks as if he’s about to laugh, the white of his teeth is stark against his skin.

“First of all, she’s tripping. You know how many times Lex has said she’s pregnant? Please. Why is Andre even with her? Wasn’t his friend with her a few months ago?”

“Jared? Yeah. I don’t get mixed up in all of it. Andre stay wilding out, man.” They talk for a little while longer, darting from subject to subject, no limits to what could and couldn’t be spoken over. Masika crosses her legs underneath her, leaning closer to try and grab the notebook on the other side of him. He catches her upper body before she can, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her sternum, “No touchin’.”

“I won’t touch it if you show me,” Masika tells him, feigning innocence when he gives her a look, “C’moooooon, you’ve had that for years. Lemme see!”

“You nosy,” he says, but he doesn’t seem annoyed by it, “Personal shit in there.”

“Mhmmm,” she manages to get a hold of it, twists her body away when he tries to half-hearted snatch it from her grip. Masika opens the notebook - the pages are frayed at the ends, old and worn, some had dog-ear bookmark on the corners, some words crossed out and replaced, entire pages filled with scribbled writing over and over again. She has to keep leaning away from Darius, he tries to round her side and take it from her again, but she’s quicker.

It takes a few minutes, she manages to skim through the majority of it. Some words stand out, she’s whispering quietly to herself as she reads.

“Darius...this is--”

“It ain’t nothin’--”

“--so good!” She turns to him in one energetic movement, he has to move back to avoid getting hit with her hair, “You wrote all these, right? Are they songs--” She inhales sharply, “Poems? Oh, my god, why didn’t you ever show me this?”

“Ain’t a big deal, come on,” he tries to take it again, she holds it away quickly. He shifts underneath her look, almost looks nervous, “It’s not like - it’s worth showin’ or some shit.”

“That’s what you think?” She stares up at him, brown eyes bright, “It’s worth seeing. And more than that, you should publish stuff like this.”

He smiles some, turns his face away so she can’t see it fully, “Stop messin’ around. Niggas don’t do shit like that.”

“They don’t do shit like that because they don’t use their heads, Darius. You do. Take advantage,” He still looks unsure, hands are back in his pockets, he’s not trying to take it from her anymore, “I don’t blame you for writing, you know. With everything that’s happened, makes things more easier.”

He looks towards her again, and she stands from the couch, right in front of him, holding out the notebook to him. Darius takes it, pressing his lips together briefly, keeps his head ducked but meets her eyes.

“When I started writing, my dad kept throwing out all my notebooks. Even if I hid them,” she says quietly, “and whenever I went out and bought more, he’d take out his belt and yell. Said singing should only be in the church...Point is, I didn’t need him to believe in me or nothin’. I did it myself.”

Darius smiles again, looks a bit bashful and amused, “Yeah? Y’takin’ public speaking at that school too?”

“What would you know about public speaking?”

“Know it’s a class.”

She watches him, seems to be thinking for a few seconds before she suddenly lights up, “Come to my Spoken Word show tomorrow night. It’s for the November Poetry Slam. Downtown.”

He’s almost immediate with his response, “What time? I’ll come--”

“And perform?”

“Masika--”

“Please, please, pleeeeeease, it’ll be so much fun, Darius! You’ll love it!”

He shakes his head while she speaks, “Not my thing. I wanna watch you though, you fly with it.”

“Pleeeease, c’mon. You can’t say no. You can’t say no or I’ll get mad--”

“Mad?”

“Yeah!” He’s trying to hold her away when she pulls teasingly on one of his braids, gripping her thin wrists in his hands, and she’s smiling, stumbling towards him clumsily, almost bumping chests. The difference in height is apparent, she has to tilt her head up to look at him, and he’s smiling too - face close to hers. Her smile falls once she notices the proximity, “Yeah...I’ll get...mad...”

Her words are trailed off, really quiet.

He’s staring at her, the smile has fallen, “...missed havin’ you around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” A pause, “Weird - I mean, you not bein’ here. It’s weird.”

“Sorry.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, Masi--”

The door opens, sound of boots hitting the floor, Andre stops when he sees them, eyebrows high on his head. It takes a moment, but Masika gets the look - jerking backwards when she notices how close she is to Darius. Darius, on the other hand, looks annoyed, jams his hands into his jean pockets.

“Y’don’t know how to knock, nigga? Y’hands broke?”

“Nah,” Andre is grinning, making his way over to him, “You know what kinda neighborhood this is, don’t leave y’door unlocked.” And then his eyes are back on her, “What’s up, ‘Sika? When you get back?”

“This mornin’,” She crosses her arms over her chest, fixing him with a look, “And I heard about Lexi.”

Immediately, his smile is gone, he throws an accusatory glance at Darius, “Why you goin’ and telling everybody for?”

“It ain’t everybody. It’s Masika,” Darius sits back onto the couch, leaning back, placing his notebook back where it belongs.

“Man, that hoe ain’t shit. She been chasin’ me around, saying she pregnant for weeks now. Ain’t no baby, ain’t no stomach,” Andre argues, annoyed.

“Some women don’t start showing until at least three to five months,” Masika tells him offhandedly, “Why’re you even messing with her like that? I thought you and Drea were working it out.”

“Fuck her, too. She’s crazy - callin’ my mama’s house and hanging up all the time. She’s bugging.” Then he shrugs, “Females be all over me once they get a taste, you already know--”

“Man, shut y’corny ass up.” Darius says from the couch.

“Fuck you,” He flips him off, “Just mad ‘cause you ain’t pullin’ any. Ain’t like Miss Christian College over here offerin’ anything.” He gestures towards Masika lazily.

Before she can say anything, Darius lobs a couch pillow at him, hitting Andre square in the head, “Fuck you. Don’t talk ‘bout her like that.” It reminds her of when they were kids - Darius more of the leader in their group, Andre always joking around and playing subtle pranks until he got in trouble, Masika following both of them blindly ( the youngest of the group ).

“Alright, alright. Chill, damn,” Andre catches the pillow, grumbling under his breath. He looks towards Masika again, “You kickin’ it tonight?”

“No, gotta head home soon. Eat dinner.”

“You talkin’ to your dad?” Andre asks, curious.

“No,” Masika and Darius answer at the same time, she continues speaking, “But I can’t keep avoiding him.” As she talks, she grabs her bag from the couch, glancing at Darius, “Tomorrow night, eight.”

“Yeah, I got it, I’ll be there.”

“And you will perform--”

“Nah.”

“Darius.”

“Masika.” He uses the same tone as her, grinning briefly when she shoots him an irritated look, “I’ll be there. I ain’t seen you sing in awhile.”

She blows out air, rolls her eyes, “Fine. Bring your notebook.” Masika moves past Andre, he’s curiously watching their exchange, he follows after her, watching as she slips on her shoes, “What?”

“Spot me a twenty.”

“What - no. Ask Darius to give you some cash.”

“I already said no,” Darius says from the front room, Andre glares back in his direction, “Man, take y’begging ass home.”

“And take care of Alexis, if word gets to your mom, you’re going to be in trouble.” Masika says to him, narrowing her eyes at his surprised look, “I’ll tell her myself.”

“Don’t! Don’t, okay? I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” She leans around him, calling out briefly, “Darius, see you tomorrow.” She hears his reply, muffled - he probably went to the kitchen or bathroom, and she leaves Andre there in the doorway.

Masika rolls over in bed when she hears steps heading in the direction of her room, pulls the covers up to nearly cover her head. Like she expects, the door opens - she can see the familiar shadow cast across the length of the wall.

“...Masika?”

It’s her father’s voice. She hadn’t gotten the chance to see him, purposely roamed outside just so she wouldn’t make it back in time for dinner. Everyone was already in bed by time she’d arrived.

“Are you awake?”

She curls up tighter, forcibly closes her eyes. It’s silence for a few seconds. And then the door closes. Masika listens as his steps get further and further away.

“Waiting for someone?”

Masika looks up at the voice, spots Craig standing there, pulling out his earphones when he gets close enough to her. She gives a half-hearted smile, toys with the cross-necklace around her neck, “Uh, yeah. I am.”

“A...guy, maybe?” He shifts closer, settles along the wall.

Masika continues to look at the door, more people file in - but not who she was looking for, “Yeah. Best friend.”

“Best friend? The one you talked about before.”

“Yeah.”

“Darius, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure he’s comin’?”

She looks up at this, away from the door. Frowning lightly up at him, she says, “Yes. He is. He always comes.” Craig backs off slightly at her tone, both of them only looking up when Masika hears a call of her name, “Frankie, you made it.”

“Of course I did, girl,” She hugs Masika, lightly bumping Craig out of the way in the process. In her ear, she whispers, “Is he bothering you again?”

“Nope,” Masika’s voice is just as quiet as hers, only raising in volume when Frankie pulls away, “You auditioning for a nineties movie?” She tilts her head, motioning to Frankie’s long braids.

“Look, not everyone can have curly white girl hair like you,” Frankie tells her, “Plus, work been killin’ my ass.”

“I’ll get my mom to do your hair.”

“With her heavy hand? Hell no, girl.”

Craig leans over in their conversation more, “’Sika, you gotta be up in a second. Think they’re about to close the doors.”

She blinks, looks up, “Wait. No. Do not close the doors yet. Fifteen more minutes.” Craig looks incredulous, but he doesn’t have time to argue with her, she’s already pulling Frankie towards the stage with her - fluffing out her own hair and fixing her shirt, “Darius isn’t here yet.”

“Which one? The Jordan’s? Jesus, how many kids she got?” Frankie mumbles, helping Masika with her hair, “Too many.”

“Four boys,” Masika proclaims, “I don’t think there’s such a thing as too many.”

“Yeah, says the girl that wants like fifty kids. You gonna live in a shoe, bitch? Psh, puh-lease,” She finishes quickly, glances at the curtains, and then back to Masika. The crowd has already formed - Masika can smell the smoke, the coffee, leather from the old seats, soft music playing, “Ready?”

“Make sure they don’t close the doors, okay?” Masika begs, “Not yet.”

“Masika, you know they close ‘em at nine.”

“Please. Pretty please, Francesca.”

Frankie makes a face, “Never say my full name again and we got a deal.”

“Thanks a bunch,” Masika kisses her cheek before she gets on stage, before people get too bored with Craig’s long list of dad jokes he seems to have ( even though he’s twenty one and doesn’t have any kids ). Even in the short amount of time she has back in her home town, she still managed to get booked for the opening act for the show.

Her mother could not make it. Sam wasn’t interested. Kurt was out of the country. Elijah was working. Her father - well, everyone knows how that conversation would’ve went. But even so - she still sings to her heart’s content, there isn’t much that can stop her. She’d learned that a long time ago.

Most of the time, when she does sing, her eyes are closed. Towards the bridge of the song, she opens them - and she finds Darius there, towards the back of the club, along the wall and away from the crowd. He makes this half-shrug at her as a hello.

Masika smiles through the rest of her song.

“You. Were. Late.”

She punctuates every one of her words with pokes to his arm. Darius grins, facing her. The club is relatively empty by now, besides Craig speaking to the supervisor. Frankie had left earlier - right in the middle of the poetry portion of the show. She’d mostly come to hear Masika sing and for support, so she wasn’t bothered by it.

“Yeah. Got held up at work. My bad.”

“I’m kidding,” Masika breathes, “It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you came. You know how weird it is performing on campus and you’re not there? It’s like I’m missing something.”

“You did good,” He pauses, looks down at the table they’re occupying, “...missed hearin’ you sing.”

A smile blooms across her face slowly, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s like what you said - somethin’ missing, you know?” She does know. Watches him, one elbow on the table, hand balancing her head. When he notices her staring, he looks at her again, “Wha’cha lookin’ at?”

“You. Waiting.”

“For?”

She nudges her head towards the empty stage, giving a smile when he immediately begin to shake his head, “Please, Darius. I would die happy.”

“Why you pressin’ me about this?”

“‘Cause you’re good. So good. And I know that from just lookin’ through your notebook for two seconds,” When he makes a light scoffing noise, she leans closer, “Just - try it. I promise it’ll feel much better coming out. It’s one thing to write it; another thing to say it out loud.”

“That’s why I write it. So I don’t gotta say it.”

“Darius,” She’s staring at him again, expression soft and open, “...for me?” Darius visibly hesitates, picks at the napkin in front of him; steadily tearing it into little pieces throughout the conversation. He looks around - as if he’s looking for anyone he knows, anyone that might say something to him or stare for too long.

It takes awhile. Maybe six minutes of coaxing, he doesn’t go to the stage, but it’s a step in the right direction. He clears his throat, picks at the napkin scraps more, “Can it be somethin’ - old or whatever? Wrote it a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” she nods fast, continuing to watch him, “Whatever you want.”

He looks at her again, as if searching for something, so she reaches over and touches the back of his hand with her fingers, soon clasping their hands together. It’s a slow process, he can’t really look at her - she can tell - and he stares at the wall across the room, then drops his eyes to their hands.

Inhales. And finally, his mouth opens.

#masika #writings

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