Page 23 of Jagged Edges

Taking her by the hand, I led the way into Dolce, where the majority of the guests had gone home for the night. There were only two parties with full bellies and empty plates waitingfor their checks to end their night of fine dining. The hours on the door insinuated they were closed, but the people who it mattered to knew that for the right price, the doors of Dolce would stay open for as long as we needed them to.

“I think they’re closing,” Brisk whispered as we made it to the host’s station.

“For us, love, they’re just opening.” A hand to her shoulder, and I could feel the effect of the air-conditioned building on her skin.

“For us?”

“And we can stay as long as you’d like. Time isn’t a factor tonight… or ever for the matter. Not for us,” I rubbed the length of her arms with my hands, hoping to draw heat from my body and transfer it to hers. The instant warmth of her skin was confirmation that it wasn’t in vain.

“You’re a very nice person, Bello,” she turned around to tell me. I liked it. The way she wanted me to know that I had her undivided attention when she spoke while demanding mine simultaneously. It was as if she needed me to witness her sincerity and accept her honesty. And, I did.

The validation she silently sought piqued my curiosity, leaving me to wonder about her story and why at only twenty life had humbled her so fucking gracefully. Soundlessly, her eyes questioned:Do you see me? Do you hear me? Can you feel me? Can you acknowledge me?

“When necessary, Brisk,” I cupped the sides of her face and looked into her eyes as I responded to her silence with,Yes, I can see you. Yes, I can hear you. Yes, I can feel you. Yes, I will acknowledge you… forever if you let me.

“Bello!” Dolce rounded the corner.

My eyes didn’t leave Brisk as a smile raised my cheeks a few inches, “Long time no see nigga.”

Before breaking my stance, I needed to be sure that she was sure. Until then, nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, else mattered at the current moment or the next.

She smiled, too, assuring me that it was okay to let go and assuring me that she was satisfied with my response. It wasn’t until then that I dropped my head to meet her lips and then let her face fall from my hands. Placing an arm across her back and pulling her closer, I faced the owner of the fine establishment we’d be dining at.

“Ah. Makes sense,” Don Dolce pointed with a shake of the finger, “I was wondering what had been prominent enough to get you back to Channing, and to stay this long - nonetheless.”

Though about ten years my senior, the man didn’t look a day over thirty. His success was my success in my eyes. His and any other black person near or far. There was simply something about seeing someone with nigga in their blood thrive beyond the world’s expectations. It got my blood pumping and filled me with unspeakable gratitude.

“She’s definitely part of the reason, but there are others. I’m feeling like she’ll be the reason I remain, though. That’s set in stone,” I assured him, turning to Brisk before continuing, “This is Brisk, my date. It’s her birthday and we’re hoping you can help us celebrate.”

“Hello, Brisk. Happiest of birthdays,” Dolce stopped to acknowledge her before turning to me, again, “I know this nigga will make it special but we’re going to try our best to help him out! I came to seat you so that we can get started. Follow me this way.”

Appetizers were being served,but I wished she’d been on the menu. I would’ve ordered far more than my share, devouring it and making room for more of her. But, she wasn’t so I settled for lamb bites while she decided on crab cakes. I commended her choice.

“Why is everyone missing you? Where have you been?” She inquired, forking the crab cakes with seemingly no intention of eating them.

Putting my fork down to give her the attention she needed, I replied, “Are you comfortable?”

Confusion batted her eyes while revelation straightened her posture as she returned, “Yes. I’m comfortable.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to leave this place hungry. I heard your stomach growling all the way over here before ordering, so I know you’re starving too. You’re pretty enough. Starving yourself tonight won’t make you any prettier,” I leaned over and grabbed a fork full of one of her delicious cakes before answering her question, “I broke my mother’s heart.”

The reality of my confession slammed into my chest like a boulder. The look on Brisk’s face didn’t help much at all, either. She completely dropped her fork, waiting for more to come but there wasn’t anything more to say.

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” I wanted to know.

“For breaking yours in the process. I can see that… it still hurts.”

She was such a speedy learner. Yes, of course, I’d broken mine in the process and that shit hurt worse than any pain I’d ever experienced. It was why I’d chosen to keep my distance. It lessened the pain and helped me cope with shit better, even if it meant not seeing the people I loved more than the world itself.

“It does,” I nodded, suddenly not feeling much of anything other than the woman that sat across the table.

“How did you break your mother’s heart?”

“By selling dope.”

I’d never regretted my choices unless they concerned my mother. But, as Brisk’s face sagged at my response, I was second-guessing that fact.

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