Whirlwind

53 - Part II

[Lamarr]

Tunnel vision.

For the last hour my eyes were fixated on nothing but blinding taillights and the endless white markings of the road, each leading me straight to a destination where everything was unfamiliar, unknown. I couldn't seem to draw them in any other direction, only on the occasional red lights that stood as moments for me to reconsider, turn this rental car around and take flight from New Jersey. I was tempted to escape and forever remain jaded by never getting to the bottom of my very much foul and unyielding ways.

It was all my ego, the flesh.

They were busy keeping me blind as I had been all these years, unconscious of my actions. Every second they were both feeding me lies, telling me that this entire get-together was pointless and that I was perfect just the way that I was; with flaws that continuously hurt the people I love the most. Both singlehandedly had me swearing that a grown ass man doesn't do this, that Lamarr Cole never needed this nigga and never will. They were warping my thinking, forcing me to believe that this validation wasn't necessary. That no relationship or person could ever make me feel significant or worthwhile.

And maybe I didn't, maybe that was true. In fact I knew it was the truth, but none of this mattered or could compare to what was inside of me, those voids. That part that yearned for this day since I was a kid. The part deep down within me that wanted to effectively make a change, be a better man and an even better father. That Cole that was resentful, terrified and had immense concerns and questions awaiting a satisfying answer from one person only. Those alone easily beat the flesh. My ego couldn't stand toe to toe with any of that, the part of me that was suffering and wanted this form of a cure.

So I kept driving. I kept my foot on the gas pedal until that physical distance that I always assumed would remain infinite became attainable, but the emotional was still to be determined. Within minutes I was a block away from the restaurant my father deemed as his favorite on the east coast, then in seconds I was peering through its windows and regarding what was damn near a reflection of myself. The lack of a crowd inside projected his presence as well as the high cheekbones, broad nose and dark droopy eyes we both shared. It was obvious just from one glance that I was my father's child, that couldn't be denied and all my mother managed to do was carry me for nine months. Oh, and raise me.

Another thing the two of us had in common was body language. He sat quietly with his wild eyes wandering from one wall to another, the palm of his hefty hands reflexively caressing his forearm as he leaned down on to the table and personified hesitation. We both were the embodiment of uncertainty. We both were playing mind games with ourselves, wondering whether or not we should stay or leave. We were both nervous wrecks just trying to conceal it in the best ways possible. This growing list of similarities, seeing that we both were one in the same somehow gave me that push I needed to walk inside Orale and lightly tread toward him to get a better glimpse.

When I was a shorty he had way more hair unlike his complete baldness now and he was shorter than I last recalled. Back then this guy James was a giant to me, an actual ass G.I. and for the few years we did interact he was alike to a hero; someone I feared but also looked up to in more ways than one. Now I was quite literally able to look down on him. He was now nothing more than a middle aged, bow legged man who lacked that dominance he seemed to have always been draped in.

Something about his intense eyes that I see in the mirror every damn day had the power to make me glance away. Though only a couple of feet stood between us, it was suddenly difficult to hold the same scrutiny over him as I did outside. My attention was fighting to be captivated by the air brush designs and sphere light fixtures dangling from the ceiling instead of him. As much as I wanted not to, I couldn't help but find my way back what many call the windows to the soul and note the story they spoke.