THE FLOW

Issue #007

"We're going to that new bistro. Do you wanna go?"

It breaks my heart to have to decline the genuine offer from a sweetheart like Linda. After work plans with my boyfriend keep my schedule tightly packed. Finally free to do whatever we want, whenever we want, wherever we want, and however we want... We do a lot, everything I can think of with the exception of having sex. I'd rather go run home to change my clothes then go bowling with my baby than hang with the girls at a local bistro in my office attire.

I sigh and the looks on my coworkers' faces tell me all I need to know. They sense my rejection and suddenly I feel like I am becoming that girl. "I'm sorry," I apologize, bottom-lip drooping. "I have plans with my boyfriend."

"That's okay," Linda smiles.

Trish steps in with a question. "I see your boyfriend in and out of here every week with those flowers. What does he do?"

"He works in the music business," I say, hoping that'll be enough to slide past the subject and move on.

"Is he an artist? Is he a manager? Come on," Trish laughs, nudging me. I force a laugh out of my discomfort. "Don't hold out on us!" I don't like being on the other side of the pressing.

In the moments of recognizing I don't have a true answer, God sends me an angel. The elevator's ding steals everyone's attention. Doors opening, Jared steps out with a series of constrasting colors lined up against his brown skin. Denim, timbs, and a navy blue Walker Wear hoodie tied up around his neck, he's looking comfortable. The clothes on his body are casual as the fluorescent explosion of pinks, greens, oranges, and reds in his hands come as a pleasant surprise to both my eyes and heart. His habit of delivering flowers to me once a week is something I've always dreamt of experiencing. To know he did it on his own is the kind of thing that gives me dozens of butterflies.

Reaching out for him before he's fully out of the elevator, I turn my back to the conversation I didn't want to have and brace myself for a warm embrace from my man. "Hey, baby!" His chuckles ring out of his chest as he comes closer.

Voice sounding as if he's just waking up, he nods as he gets closer. "Hey, boo." The widening of his smile makes my insides flip. The five years of having braces he told me about and his refusal to ever pick up a pack of newports creates his best accessory. "Can I get you on the side?"

I look to Trish and Linda. "I'll set aside a day next week for us to have lunch." Then, my body floats away to my office.

Hugs and sweet kisses add meaning to his gesture of never missing a week without bringing me my flowers. Coming on a different day throughout every week, he keeps me on my toes and the surprises fresh.

Alone in my office, my explanation of the plans surrounding my upcoming journey back to Chicago somehow take us down memory lane. Questions I need physical evidence to answer lead me to bring out one of the few photo albums I keep in my office. Picture by picture, memory by memory, I flip through the pages as I show Jared a slither of the life I'm excited to revisit. He sits on the edge of my desk, watching and listening as I give him the details of what kind of history this photo album holds within it.

"You always talkin' 'bout Doris. Where she at?"

I point to the tall, light-skinned fourth generation Creole beauty I grew up with starting as early as the second grade. "That's Doris," I tell him.

Jared's nose turns up. "Why she gotta name like she wear moomoos and drink tea outta mason jars on ha' front porch with her seven kids runnin' 'round the yard?"

Jaw unhinging, my laughter brings me pain as karma for even entertaining his outlandish statements toward my friend. He always wants to throw dozens with somebody. Unable to audibly react, I have to result to snapping my photo album shut. I lift from my chair to return it to its rightful place on my book shelf as Jared cackles from the edge of my desk. I grab a new album instead, the second and last one here.