Weeping Willow

Chapter Four

My tea is hot. The mint is slightly overpowering but the aftertaste is so fantastic that it makes it even more enjoyable. The bright orange cup is warm in my hands and brings a level of happiness along with it, chipped porcelain handle and all. The energy in the room is already brewing. The slow build of electricity is felt with each body that walks through the open door. Voices chat excitedly over the soft music playing. It's sensual, calming.

I nod a simple goodbye to Trent, noting the way his smile grows when he looks at me. I don't look back at Trent as I step into the crowd, getting lost in the sea of dreads and crop tops. I search for her Crane's blond hair amongst the crowd. She's taller than most people our age and older, standing at five-foot-ten.

I'm having the best time already. In a room packed full of people, all near my age, all loving the same thing that I love. The strangers seem to all be able to feel the energy that I feel, taking in every word with the emotion as I do. For the first time in seventeen years, I feel like I belong somewhere. It feels pretty damn good.

When I find them, Crane is staring at her phone and my dad is wiping some thing off of my mom's face. I scrunch my nose and my mind goes to Trent, wondering if he likes the poetry here or if he only sees it as part of his job. I secretly hope he appreciates what he gets to see every week. I stand between my mom and Crane and look toward the stage. They managed to get a really great spot in the center of the room, just slightly to the left of the stage. Our view of the stage is better than I was hoping for and I'm counting down the minutes before Maya Crawford takes the stage.

"He's cute, right?" Crane leans into me, suddenly remembering there's a world outside of her phone, not that I do the same. She wraps her arm around my shoulder. I roll my eyes, nudging her off and she raises her finger to give it to me, but my mom gives her "the look" and she drops her hand faster than I can laugh.

"For who? You or me?" I ask, half teasing, half genuinely wondering before I make a fool of myself. I know she's dating Jesse so I don't want to be too quick to assume anything.

Crane rolls her eyes, huffing, "Obviously you."

I don't say anything to her. I just smile and purse my lips slightly. I don't know when I became the single friend who everyone tries to set up, but I can't find it in me to complain. Not yet at least. Not unless Crane gets out of control. The lights dim and I turn my focus to the stage.

My adrenaline rushes as Maya Crawford takes the small stage. If she's nervous, she's hiding it well. Her eyes are sharp under the bright lights and her bright red lipstick against her brown skin is stunning, making a point.

She doesn't appear to be anything close to nervous as she walks past the high top chair in the center of the circle. She wraps her hand around the wooden seat and pushes the chair to the side.

Her eyes are small crescents, barely opened, as she takes one last step to stand in front of the microphone stand. She doesn't touch the stand as she begins. Maya Crawford is even better than I could have imagined. Her words roll off of her tongue, she transforms them into more, into air. They seem to float through the space, filling every listener's ears and making their skin hum. My body feels alive, sparking under my skin, as she speaks about what makes us who we are. She delivers lines about her single mother, the incredible hours her and her siblings spent working since they can remember. Her voice is so fast toward the end that she's almost rapping about work and faith and having ambition and letting it fuel you.

I'm immediately inspired, it's impossible not to be. She speaks with such passionate conviction and her voice sings to something inside of me. I look around the crowd of silenced listeners and see that it's not only me who's affected by her talent.