Neevah
There’sa feeling I get before a performance.
It vacillates between trepidation and almost unbearable excitement. I run the lines in my head and can barely sit still I’m so ready to get on that stage, or lately, on set.
The time Canon and I will spend together over the next few days is not a performance. I know that, but I feel the same things. Breathless, like a moth got loose in my rib cage, the wings fluttering over my heart. I understand why Canon’s been cautious, but I’m glad he wants this, too.
Now.
When my phone rings, I’m in the bathroom packing toiletries. He’s due here soon, and I hope that’s not him saying he’ll be any earlier.
It’s not.
“Hey, honey,” Takira says.
“Hey. Let me put my headphones in so I can keep packing.”
I slip in the headphones and return to the bathroom. “What’s up, T? How’s the break going?”
“Now, you know I did not call to talk about my boring Christmas break, though I did get some last night.”
“Oh?” I stop to lean one hip against the bathroom counter. “With who? How was it?”
“Girl, this guy who works with my sister. We all met up for drinks, and one thing led to another.”
One-night stands aren’t usually Takira’s bag, but we all do things out of character with the right dose of liquor.
“And?” I ask.
“Not worth it. He ain’t halfway know what he was doing.”
I reach under my sink for deodorant. “So it wasn’t good?”
“I described him to my sister as if please, God, make it stop was a person.”
I shake my head and chuckle, but keep it moving because Takira’s disappointing sex will not make me late getting mine.
“Not like make it stop consent,” she continues, “but like boredom. Like if I still wore a watch, I woulda been checking it. I mean, it’s a clit. Not a Venn Diagram.”
“Oh, my God, T.”
“And afterwards he had the nerve to be all . . . so how was it? Negro, it was two stars. I got your Yelp review right here. Would not recommend and glad I packed my vibrator. Shiiiiiit.”
“Why’d you even . . . well, you don’t usually go for flash bangs with guys you don’t know, so was he that fine? Or were you—”
“That desperate?” she cuts in, some of the humor fading from the other line. “The holidays are hell sometimes. I’m the only one in our family not married now, and you just feel it. Everybody’s booed up and got their kids and family pics on Instagram, and running around all elated. I felt like an extra trapped in one of those Hallmark Christmas movies.”
I pause, setting aside my packing and settling on the bed to really listen. Takira’s the best friend I have in the world. I’m used to her swagger, her unfaltering confidence, but I’m glad she’s trusting me with this, too.
“I just . . .” Takira stops and starts again. “. . . wanted some connection, I guess. Beyond the dick, I wanted to feel wanted and needed and all the things we dream about feeling, but don’t get enough.”
“I’m sorry it was such a letdown.”
“To be expected. You don’t walk in a bar, flirt with a frog, and think he’ll be a prince by the time you get him home. Though, after that fourth shot, he did start looking like royalty.”
She sounds more like herself, and we laugh, but I want to make sure she’s alright. “T, if you need—”
“I said I didn’t call to talk about me and I meant it. Now, is our esteemed director on his way?”