Page 36 of Bending The Rules

I labeled the box and closed it, then picked up another one. This one was heavier, so I sat it down on top of the desk that had been in my room until my father turned it into a man cave when I moved out.

This time, I laughed.

In the box were several different models of Nokia cell phones, and about a million different colorful faceplates. There were at least seven other phones – all had been mine – and you could see the clear progression in the technology. This box was filled with the evidence of my first job, when the only thing I cared about spending money on was clothes, food, and the latest cell phone – from Virgin Mobile, pay as you go, with the minutes to go with it— I could get my hands on.

Honestly… not much had changed from there, if I looked at where my money went now.

Aside from the cell phones, there were several iterations of the mp3 player, and a few sets of portable speakers in the box. On a whim, I picked up one of the players and hit the “power” button.

To my surprise, the thing actually turned on.

I didn’t have headphones, so I pulled out one of the speakers that worked essentially the same way. No power necessary, just plugged into the headphone jack. It was no surprise to me that B2K’s “Gots Ta Be” was the first thing that played.

I started singing along at the top of my lungs, surprising myself with myflawlessmemory of the lyrics. I moved back to the pile of boxes to keep working, letting my discovery furnish the background music the same way Earth, Wind, and Fire used to blast through the house on Saturday mornings while my mother cleaned.

I was making good progress getting those boxes marked, singing and laughing at myself for still knowing every single word. I almost jumped out of my skin after I sang a line about wanting to be the one my imaginary lover let eat off their plate, I heard “you can eat off my plate anytime.”in response.

I whipped around to see Justin standing at the top of the stairs, grinning hard as hell. I dropped the box I was holding and put my hand to my chest, wanting it to help calm my racing heart.

It didn’t.

It wasn’tjustthat he’d scared me that had my heart fluttering, and heat building in my face. He looked so damned good dressed down – sweats, long sleeved tee shirt clinging to his arms and chest, cap pulled down over his head – that it was hard to catch my breath.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to look annoyed as I let my hands fall to my sides. He didn’t need to know I was excited to see him.

“Getting the concert I didn’t know I needed in my life,” he said, looking around for somewhere to sit. He chose an ottoman that had been a mainstay in my parent’s living room from the time I moved in, until I was sixteen. “I see you’ve still got those pipes, girl.”

I shrugged. “Once a singer always a singer, I guess. The question is, doyoustill have it? Everybody wasn’t calling you Ginuwine Jr just because you were so pretty.”

“Ah, whatever,” he said, brushing me off. “You were the one with the voice, I was just tagging along for your fame, Baby Girl.”

I giggled over that nickname. Back in high school, with my perfectly swooped bang, penchant for baggy clothes, and a decent voice, I’d been coined the “Pretty for a dark-skinned girl” version of Aaliyah. And, bless their hearts, they meant that shit as a compliment, and I took it as such, because I didn’t know then what I knew now.

In any case, I was “Baby Girl”, Justin was Ginuwine, and we had a Tim, a Magoo, and Nikita had been our Missy. Yeah, we were corny as hell in retrospect, butback then? We were friggin’cool- not to be confused with the cool kids though.

“Here you go, right here,” he said, pointing toward my speaker set up as Aaliyah’sAt Your Bestbegan playing. “Serenade me.”

I grinned, and shook my head. “I don’t think so. What are youreallydoing here, and how the hell did you get in? Did my mother leave the door unlocked?”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I came to drop off a bunch of empty boxes I had in storage. I was supposed to just leave them on the porch, but your mom was coming out when I pulled up, and she told me you were up here. Said I should come and help.”

I furrowed my brow. “But you’re sitting down right now. How is that helping?”

“I’m supervising.”

“Supervise your ass into one of those boxes,” I said, tossing him the extra marker I had. “They weren’t labeled, so I’m doing that now, so we can donate it or something. My parents won't have room in the new place.”

“And what about you?” he asked. My back was to him as I picked up another box, and I stayed that way as I lifted it onto the desk. “What is your place like?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really have one. I move around too much for that. I usually live out of extended stay hotels.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I keep trying to tell y’all I’m a nomad now, and y’all don’t believe me.”

Justin chuckled. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just… surprising. Don’t you need somewhere to call home once you get married?”

My hands were shaking as I wrote “picture frames”on the box in front of me. “No agreement on that.”

---