“Ever Thine… Ever Mine… Ever Ours”
I
There was nothin’ romantic about the way we met. I had just lost my papa to a drunk driver, and I was working like a mad man just trying to escape life. I was stuffing random items back on empty shelves at lay-a-way hoping that no one came my way, when I saw a glimpse of him, and I cussed. I just wanted to get done and go home. Before I could scurry back to the cold abandoned counter, I heard my name paged loudly on the intercom, “Monique to lay-a-way please… thank you.”
Next thing I knew, he was staring right in front of me, and my goodness, he was fine. He was chocolate, and Lord knows I love me some chocolate. He had a low cut fade, and was dressed in jeans, timbs, and a leather bomber jacket. He looked exhausted. As he followed me back to the counter, I asked him his name --I was never really good at flirting.
“Terrell”, he said.
I went to the back to gather all of his belongings, and it looked to be a bunch of children’s clothes. He paid for everything, and I was about to send him on his was, when he started to speak:
“They’re for my daughter, Makayla,” he said bashfully.
I smiled and nodded.
“Well, I hope you have a good day,” He said.
“Thanks, you too,” I said.
And then he walked away casually. By that time I had accumulated a small line, and was starting to get nauseas of the thought that it was going to be such a long night. All of a sudden he reappeared, with the same tired look on his face.
“Did I leave something out?” I said.
“No, at least I don’t think you did. Her mom picks out her clothes, I just pay for them.”
I gave him a blank stare and a slight smile.
Then he handed me the receipt that had his name and number written on the back. “It’ll break my heart if I never see you again,” he said nervously, and then he walked away.
II
Sometimes I find myself going back to that spot. The spot where I last saw you. The spot where I swear sometimes I can still smell the scent of your cologne, and for a brief moment I can still hear you whisper my name. I keep looking for you to meet me there, but you never do. Everyone always says that love conquers all, but clearly it does not; and here I am… alone. I drive up to our spot, and I spread my favorite blanket right there on the grass, and I think of you. Sometimes I write you poetry, as if you don’t have enough of my love letters covered in tear stains. Sometimes I cry, and I wonder if you can hear me. Sometimes I get angry at you for giving up on us; and sometimes I just sit in silence, and wait for you. You never come.
It’s extremely hot outside today, and I’m sitting here with my umbrella covering me because you know I hate to be hot. Sweat beads are forming on my neck and back, because I can’t block the heat from the burning sun. I tried to write you, but the words weren’t beautiful enough, so I’m just sitting here, in the hot August heat, searching for you, searching for a sign, searching for something…
III
“I don’t love you,” I said, as I looked up at him smiling from my front porch.
“Yes you do.” He said. “Every time I hug you, you get weak in the knees.”
He wrapped my fingers in his hands to warm them from the cool night air. I looked up at him and smiled, and then I looked up at the stars. They were beautiful that night. And then I saw a shooting star gliding across the night sky.
“Make a wish,” he said.
“What for I have you.”
That’s when he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a single red rose, and handed it to me. I blushed, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Let’s go, or we’re gonna be late to the movies.”
“What are we going to see?”
“Anacondas.”
“Fuck, I hate scary movies,” I sighed in a low mumble.
“I know, but you love me though,” He said, as if he already knew my secret.
And just like that we got into his Honda Accord with that blue glitter paint that he loved so much. Then we raced to the movies with old school love songs blasting loudly from the speakers.
I sat in the movie theater scared to death of images of snakes eating people alive. It was also freezing in the movie theater, so I wore his leather jacket. I hate snakes, I thought to myself… but he smelled good, like expensive cologne and his leather coat. I always did love the way he smelled.
IV
Some days I don’t want to wake up, because I dream of you. In my dreams I can almost swear I can feel your arms around me, your warmth against my skin, your breath on the back of my neck, and I want to just stay asleep because I wake up empty. I get excited on Friday nights because Fridays are our date nights. I go to sleep fairly early on Friday nights in your old t-shirts, and dream of you. Tonight, I’m wearing your favorite Lakers basketball t-shirt, it’s the faded purple shirt with the grease stain on it. It’s funny how I go to sleep and my heart is so full, but I awake in an empty house, alone in a room, with an empty heart.
V
He pushed me up against my car parked in an empty park not far from my house, and he kissed me. “Tell me you love me,” he said. His smile as sly as it ever was. He always looked like he was keeping a secret that no one else knew. I always looked at him as if I longed to find out his secrets.
“Nope,” I whispered, as I beamed at him. He tickled the side of my neck with his tongue, in that spot that he knew I loved, and I giggled.
He whispered, “Tell me you’re in love with me” in my ear. He lifted me up, and sat me on the trunk of his car.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck, and drew him in close to me… so close that my lips were touching his, and I said, “You’re in love with me,” and I softly bit his bottom lip. That’s about the time when he slipped my panties down my ankle, and we had sex right there on the trunk of his car, and right afterwards, I kissed him, and I told him I was in love with him.
VI
“Monique are you home yet?”
It was my best friend on the other end of my phone. She sounded like she needed to talk desperately, and I needed to desperately get ready for my date with my boyfriend.
“Not quite yet,” I said with a deep sigh.
In my head was every girl’s date night check list: Manicure… check. Pedicure… check. Wax… check. Clothes…. Shit! What am I gonna wear? But I could sense that Vesha desperately needed to talk, and that was my cue. Couldn’t her boyfriend find another day to fuck up?
“I’m almost home,” I said. “Well really, it’s like I’m home, but not quite home.”
“You at your grandma’s?” Vesha said.
“Yes ma’am, I am” I said.
I jumped out the car and entered the house, and I went into one of my grandparent’s guest bedrooms which I had claimed mine for years.
“Have you talked to Terrell today?” She asked. I kind of felt weird that she asked. She NEVER liked him, but if I was on the other end of the telephone listening to our whirl wind relationship, I probably wouldn’t have liked him either. Nevertheless, he was mine, and I was his, and there was nothing either one of us could do about that.
“No, not yet, but it is date night,” I said. “I’ll more than likely talk to him tonight when he gets off work.”
“I think I saw something about him on the news,” Vesha said. Her voice was kind of trembling.
“How would you know, you’ve never met him,” I said jokingly, “well, what did you think heard?”
“Isn’t his last time Finch?”
“yeeaaa…” I said. I was starting to worry. “What happened Vesha? Is he in jail? Oh God, he’s not in jail is he?”
“No. Monique, he’s not in jail. I think the news said he was shot.”
“SHOT!? Shot where? Shot by who? I have to go to the hospital… I have to go!”
“Monique… he’s gone.”
“He’s dead” No… you have got to be talking about somebody else. He’s not dead. He’s at work.”
“Calm down Monique… Calm—“
And that’s about where I think the conversation ended.
I turned on the television, but there was no news on. I was shaking so hard that I could barely turn the channels, and my heart was beating so fast that I could barely breathe. I ran to the computer, and searched on the internet… and there was his Myspace page, flooded with RIP messages, and I screamed.
I don’t know if my heart stopped temporarily from all the aching, or if I blacked out from all the stress and overwhelming pressure, but I woke up with a cool rag on my forehead while staring in my grandma’s face. I sat up, and then stood up.
“Did I dream it all?” I asked.
“Dream what girl?”
I glanced back at the computer screen, which still had Terell’s face on it, and I threw up continuously right there in the floor, and then I wept there for hours, while my grandma held me, until I was finally able to walk the five steps to bed… and I slept.
VII
So now I sit here, on the green grass, waiting for a sign from you, thinking that one day I’ll visit you and there will mysteriously be a single red rose lying on the ground for me; or maybe your shadow, towering down over me. I always make sure to wipe the dust from your tombstone, because I know you always had a phobia of dirt. I always bring you a single red rose, just like the one you gave me. I still tell you scores of basketball games, just like I used to do when you were at work, and you weren’t able to watch them with me. I still talk shit to you about your losing Lakers, because I am, and will always be a Celtics girl, but most of all, I still write to you: Ever thine, Ever mine, Ever Ours.
