Benevolence

Chapter 4: Harborer of Ships

Bryan and I have been friends since middle school. Before him, there were associates, associates who didn't really understand me, who neither shared nor respected my culture, who only hung out with me because they thought I was cool. I laugh thinking back at how naive I was then; I was the token Black girl. And even though I loved each and every one of them, our ties weren't strong enough to survive my coming of age. As I grew older, conversations started lining up with the world around me; The basis of sex, race, religion--I gravitated towards exploring those topics. And as I was beginning to unmask my identity, realizing that it was informing my experiences, my White friends grew further and further away. They deemed me uptight and sensitive, said they liked me better when I just "let the tape roll". It wasn't until my father took me to work one day, to meet his best friend and business partner-- Bryant Taylor--that I found Bryan. Black--but "not black enough", woke, and way too mature for his age.

"I'm sorry I missed your call," his voice breaks through my phone's speakers. "Uhm..." He clears his throat. "I'm still jet-lagged...I'm free tonight if you wanna come over."

I'm sitting in my living room, curled up on the couch, with nothing but the sound of his voice bouncing off of the walls. After missing my calls in between lectures yesterday, he'd also missed his opportunity to meet up with me.

"If you're back in that shithole I'm not saving your ass again."

I flinch at that one, moving on to the next voicemail.

"...I apologize for my last message; it was insensitive. You gave me your word. I have to allow you to uphold it." Some shuffling can be heard in the background. "Who am I kidding," he mumbles, drawing a breath. "Whenever you're done doing whatever, give me a call. I just might pick up."

Things haven't felt the same since he left. I've found shelter in someone else, and though he thinks I haven't noticed, he's clearly stretching himself thinner than usual. Chewing on my bottom lip, I dial his number. He picks up on the fourth ring.

"What is it?" He answers.

That's another thing about Bryan: His ill temperament. He's a big kid most of the time, but it's always one step behind his wolfish grins and smart remarks. Its unpredictability is what caused him to move out of his parents' home senior year of high school. Which broke the record of his older siblings.

"...Hey thereee... you."

"Alaina." He greets coolly.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I say.

"Mmhm."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Be all distant."

"Well, according to what my call log's telling me, we're in a long-distance, one-sided relationship."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I guess that makes us equals. Now you know how it feels when someone you hold dear decides to go missing. Only, I've experienced it over the course of three weeks, and you—24 hours. Suck it up, grow some balls or something, I don't care. Meet me over at Jim's at 12 noon."

It's silent over on his end... "Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life, Bryan."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"...I was so not serious," I say, laughing to myself. It was 12:40 when I parked my car across the street from Curb Brewed—aka Jim's. And it's 12:43 now that I'm approaching the entrance.