September 14, 2016 | Wednesday
Being stuck in this basement for several hours has made me really quiet and observant. I saw that Rafael had worked hard to make his basement a family room. There was a large sofa placed near the door (it was now collecting dust) and a wooden baby crib with the name "Egypt" on it. Raphael had been born in Egypt but moved to the states at 7 years old. In honor of his home country, he wanted his daughter to be named Egypt. And later if he was to have a son, his name would be Kemet.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that the wounds on Rafael's heart were fresh and untreated. Despite therapy, there was still work to be done.
"What's this?" I went under a small table and pulled out a black crate.
"Classic old vinyls. The majority of them are probably scratched up by now."
"Do you mind if I tried to play one?"
"No, go ahead."
I went through a few names such as Diana Ross, Nat King Cole, Billie Holiday, and Frankie Valli. I eventually settled on Billie Holiday because I hadn't heard her music in an excruciatingly long time. Next to the crate was a black record player. I placed it on the player and put the needle on. It started to play.
"I Cover The Waterfront by Lady Day. You really are an old soul. May I have this dance milady?"
"I don't know, I'm really clumsy and you're shirtless, so this is kind of a double negative." In other words, the universe says no.
"Big deal! Stop being so superstitious and dance with me big head."
He took my hands and I leaned on his bare shoulder. We did what was a messy version of the box step, with him guiding me since I had two left feet.
"Dancing could be our thing," he suggested.
"Why do we need a thing?"
"Every couple has one."
"We are not a couple. I prefer the term very intimate friends."
"It's impossible to persuade you, isn't it?" He groaned.
"I'm sorry if this hurts you. But you need to quit acting like I'm not repeating myself over a thousand times. This, whatever we have right now, is temporary. Nothing more, nothing less. You can't keep leaving your heart out in the open and then wondering why it gets crushed." He should be wiser; he's older and more knowledgeable.
"My heart is used and abused. I've been through hell so I have nothing to lose. Well, with the exception of yourself."
"Rafael are you down here? Did you lock yourself in?" A sonorous voice from upstairs spoke.
"That's not Yvette is it? Because that sounds a lot like her," I said.
"Oh, it's definitely her. Not many people at Ethereal know, but she's my half sister, so she has my spare key."
"I can't have her see me! I need to hide."
"For what? You can't get in any trouble."
YOU ARE READING
Black Lotus
Teen FictionHer name was Oasis Kai Evans, and she was sick of being the oddball in life. She was that black girl who was always stuck in between. Oasis is always underappreciated and taken for granted. At school in the morning, nobody would want to talk to her...
