News travels fast down here, or the gospel according to Queen James*
I calculated my cross-town drive to make an entrance exactly 30 minutes after the start of this month's Positively Living! HIV support group meeting, but who knew there'd be this kinda traffic on a Saturday? And at 2:30 in the afternoon!
Granted, it probably ain't help that I traveled three countrymiles behind an elephantine Ford Expedition. That as I turtled along, cruising down Cascade Road, at some point I shoulda realized that I wz traveling, not in random traffic, but at the tail end of an anacondal funeral processional. Nevertheless, after surviving the latest episode of the "Automotive Wildlife Kingdom," I finally pulled up to the September HIV support group meeting a full hour and 30 minutes late.
By the time I walked in, I wholly expected the henhouse to be in full cackle -- peckin & scratchin this month's spotlight topic. July's: "When Two Grooms Jump the Broom"; before that: "What's Lacking in Barebacking?" But the hens wzn't hardly in full cackle. Matter of fact, they wz making nary a peep.
Every eye wz closed. Every head, bowed. As I made my not-quite-what-I-planned grand entrance, Sekou, the erykahbadulike group moderator, looking all deep in his dashiki, wz leading the disciples in some sorta prayer or meditation. And as my luck would have it, the only empty seat -- that is, the only seat left in "The Circle" -- wz between Miss Chardonnay Devereaux-Alize and --
1 Hold up. Before I go any further, did I tell you what that heifer did?
2 One Saturday I wz at the drag show -- you know how crowded it be on Saturdaynites, right?
3 I wz leaned against the bar, biceps bulging, lookin cute as usual.
4 Anyway, I wz standin there in my Prada tank top at last call, waitin on Omar to mix my drink, when Miss Schlitz Maltliquor glides by in her evening gown. Bumps into me. & spills her colorful cocktail all ovah Mother's $300 white Prada shirt!
5 Yes, the Prada, chile.
6 Then, in a voice about four octaves too deep for her own body, the glittering bitch has the nerve to smile -- smile, mind you -- & say, "Pardon me";
7 That's when Spirit told me:
8 She did that sh*t on purpose.
9 & that's when she reaches down in her fake sweaty titties, pulls out a moist wad of tissue paper, and mimes like she's tryin to sop it up.
10 It was ovah! Ovah!
11 I grabbed me a handful of her hair, fully intending to send that fairy flying ovah the bar.
12 But it wz not to be.
13 Apparently her weave wzn't glued in too tight;
14 Cz, verily, verily I say unto you, I wz left standin alone -- me and that handful of horse; & grrrl, my shirt wz ruined.
15 I'm still fumin; everytime I look at it.
16 White Prada shirt. Big brown stain. Hanging in my closet with the $300 Neiman price tag still on it.
17 I wz plannin on takin it back, chile!
18 It was ovah! Ovah!
Anyway, every eye wz closed. Every head, bowed. As I made my oh-so-ungrand entrance, Sekou, in his dashiki, wz leading Bible study. And as my luck would have it, the only empty seat -- that is, the only seat left in "The Circle" -- wz between that drag queen, Miss Schlitz Maltliquor Bull, and my ex-lover, John.
This posed a problem.
(Yes, yes, he's now my ex. I know it ain't even last a month. Close yr mouth.)
1 I had given John three of the best weeks of my life.
2 That's three whole weeks I saw him & nobody else.
3 But I had this burnin feelin that nigga was cheatin.
4 So one day at work, I went on a lunch break & never went back; and plotted my own nighttime detective drama to get to the bottom of it.
5 First, I caught the number 32, two trains & a shuttle to Jackson International to select a surveillance car: a sedan -
6 White & American -- so I wdn't stand out.
7 Next, to complete my counterfeit, I pulled into Angie's Beauty Supply; picked out a righteous wig of baby doll curls, some Press-On nails & some plastic shades,
8 Beheld myself in the mirror & snapped:
9 She shall be called Woman. Fabulous!
10 & there wz much murmuring among the Chinese concerning me as they rang me up;
11 I know what you said, bitches! I yelled -- feeling all-the-more all-knowing -- on my way out.
12 For my next-to-last stop, I picked up a small bottle of Absolut; in case I needed a little extra bit of nerve.
13 So finally I pulls into John's apartment complex, hours before he wz scheduled to get off from work; found a spot with a good view of his apartment, & sat & drank, & drank & sat,
14 Until I drowned in my sorrow; but what I didn't take into account wz between that wig & July, it got just a little too hot;
15 You know I can usually hold my liquor, but grrrl I passed out;
16 When I woke up, there wz lights on in John's apartment; & two silhouettes!
17 Aha, I knew it! I heard myself say; but then I went blank.
18 I don't quite recall the next sequence of events, but what's important is this: John & his baby brother -- his baby brother, chile -- found me drunk,
19 Crouched beside the wheels of his gold Lexus coupe.
20 Me & my beard & my lopsided curls,
21 With a gleaming knife, grrrl!
22 Caught red-handed in Act Three of the four-act drama, Slashing John's Tires.
Now I know this face-cracking incident woulda likely destroyed any lesser diva. Shoulda humbled my happyass into hiding. And it did.
But that only lasted for one month. And this brings me to why, even in the face of intergalactic embarrassment, I broke my neck to get here today for one last shot.
1 That night after my tragedy with the Prada shirt, I dragged myself home for a couple hours to recoup;
2 I had to fill in on organ at 8:30 service in church.
3 I have strange visions, when I mix my liquors -- dark & light;
4 But doc tells me my HIV meds can also cause that.
5 At any rate, in the dream I'm surrounded by thongs, I mean throngs, of big burly men; no, it's not that kinda dream --
6 Not this time.
7 So I'm pressed like an iron amongst this multitude of men,
8 & I'm carried by the throbbing throng out into the Village's public square, where there are three wooden crosses;
9 And on each was a beefy man, but I couldn't discern their faces.
10 Until the angel of Diana Ross lowered on a velvet rope from Heaven
11 And smiled a spotlight on the figure in the center.
12 His hair was like wool & his skin like burnt copper.
13 I knew that body, if I knew anybody's.
14 On a cross in a crown of thorns, chile, it was my savior!
15 John, sweet Jesus, it was John!
So this is why I starved myself on a bananas & sushi diet for the last two weeks. Why I hired the high-priced Brazilian personal trainer. (Well, actually that was because he was cute.) Why the aerobics abuse. Why the billions of ab crunches till I couldn't even lie down flat in the bed at night.
Because Start playing my instrumental house theme music here this wz the last time the weather would be warm enough for me to wear John's favorite Boy-I'm-gonna-pluck-you-like-a-cherry red Lycra shirt. The last time I could make him covet me like a tasty, taboo dessert. The last time I could give John -- One. Last. Goodlook. (Doublesnap) -- at what he would be missing.
And, chile, you know me. I wouldn't be James if I missed that!
But even in my calculated boldness, I wasn't going to sit right next to my ex. Not after all of this. Even if it wz the only remaining seat. And even if it did violate Sekou's "fundamental principle of the Sanctified Circle."
A little back-story on "The Circle." Sekou, our resident hoodooed (or spiritually renewed, whatever you wanna call it) moderator, had this brilliant theory that only in the geometric form of an unbroken circle could we achieve "the maximum flow of positive vibrations."
Apparently some doubletalkin theory he picked up in state prison. Apparently hot air, or what the meteorologists call a warm front, because no amount of mathematical or metaphysical theory on this day wz going to sit me next to my ex.
So against the laws of the Sekouniverse, as the room ruminated on higher thoughts, I, like a gay Ninja, stealthily (yet stylishly) swooped up an orange plastic chair and -- in one flawless motion -- seated myself just behind Theo and Nate--outside of The Circle! (You should have seen me, grrrl. I wz priceless.)
I figured, with only 20 minutes left in the meeting, who would notice?
And as they meditated, I pondered on that empty chair. Back to all the weeds I'd planted in all the dirt that I'd dish around. & suddenly I had this sick, sinking feeling in my gut. Not like the diarrhea from my meds, but this other queasiness you may've probably heard about, but which I'd certainly never felt before.
Remorse, chile. Remorse.
At 25 years old, for the first time in my carnival ride of a life, I felt the need to redeem myself. I wz gonna make John take me back.
"Ashe," Brother Sekou said.
"Ashe," the group replied.
Then came the big moment. John opened his eyes. My mind wz a flipping coin.
He's gonna hate me. Look away. He's gonna love me. No, no, look back. But you'll look like a stalker. Maybe look cross-eyed? But the Scripture saith: Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed. And I am not one to be ashamed. So I decided to stare him down.
That's when he looked over my way. And he wz coooooool as a mocha shake; eyes like chocolate liquor. Yes, grrrl, yes. He wzn't frownin, neither. Ooh, this was my chance!
That's when I saw the corners of his mouth go ... up! He wz smiling, chile. Smilin! I started tingling and feelin dizzy. My heart was pumpin a bassline that had my speakers about to pop!
That's when I realized that the song that had been playin in my head wzn't the one the rest of the world wz dancin to.
John wzn't looking at me. He wz lookin through me. No, no, just to the right of me. No, not even in my direction at all.
In my periphery, a 6-foot-something, cornrowed Allen Iverson-type strolls by and makes my knees buckle, even as I'm sitting in my seat. His eyes and John's eyes are locked till he takes the empty chair. And he filled it like a grave.
The meeting adjourned shortly after. And no one asked me to join The Circle. No one even made space. And John gave me one ol' Arctic shoulder once The Circle was broken.
I wish you were here to help me with these things.
As I think back on my dream, maybe it wzn't John up on that cross after all. And night after night, as I'm lying in someone else's bed, I keep trying to redream that dream. In the meantime, I keep telling myself:
When He comes back into my life, this will all be over.
M. Ayodele Heath was the recipient of a 2001 Emerging Artist Award from the Atlanta Bureau for Cultural Affairs and was selected "Best Local Spoken Word Artist" by Creative Loafing that same year. He been a featured performer at venues across the country both large and small, and his poems have been published in Crab Orchard Review, Chattahoochee Review, and Open City. A native of Atlanta, this is his first published piece of fiction.
