15
Sean
Ididn’t expect such a lackluster response from someone who had never been to LA or who had never previously been on an airplane. I expected to see Niya’s eyes bright with excitement but other than squeezing my hand during takeoff and landing, Niya had been quiet. Her attitude had been blah at best. She barely noticed any of the sights or commented on the hustle of the LA crowds or the blaring horns.
For the third time since we’d caught the Uber leading us into the city, I asked if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” was the quick response. Which meant she wasn’t.
I held back a sigh. Her downturned lips and sad expression testified something was wrong, but Niya wasn’t volunteering any information. Normally, I wouldn’t push but my heart couldn’t bear to see the woman I loved hurting. And, yes, I loved this woman sitting next to me, looking everywhere but at me. I loved her more than ice cream shakes on a hot summer day. She was cool, refreshing, and excited me in ways I doubted I had the eloquence to express. But I knew now wasn’t the time to tell Niya how I felt. I needed to wait for the right moment to tell her I loved her more than eternity. I was cool with waiting.
“Is it Big?” I asked, taking her hand in mine and using my free hand to turn her head in my direction.
Niya shrugged but I could see her wet, spiky lashes.
I lowered my voice so the Uber driver couldn’t overhear my conversation. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to talk. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
She turned toward me. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having anyone other than Jazzy and she’s mad at me for leaving. She’s making it sound like I don’t care about Big because I came with you to LA. She said Big could die and called me a sellout for wanting a better life.”
“Oh, baby,” I said, pulling her under my arms. “Big will be okay. You said yourself that Big encouraged you to come. Jazzy is all in her feelings but she’ll get over it.”
When Niya rested her head on my chest, my heart expanded. I could feel the trust when she slumped against my chest, drawing strength from me, which made me feel seven feet tall. I would protect her with my last breath. I knew I sounded dramatic but what was more dramatic than being in love? Love had tilted my world off its axis. I so wanted to tell her but Niya needed comforting, I reminded myself.
Unaware of my inner conflict, Niya continued, “I would hate it if something happened to Big and she’s all the way on the other side of the country.”
A part of me wanted to blurt out I thought Jazzy was being selfish and was possibly jealous of Niya but I knew better. Niya and Jazzy were like peanut butter and jelly. There was no coming between them.
Thinking of them made me think of my friend Simmonds and the many hearty debates we used to have. No matter the issue, we were guaranteed to end up on opposite sides. I gulped. I’d never have any more. To me, Niya and Jazzy’s arguments were inconsequential like a passing breeze in summer.
I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Nothing will happen, I promise. And, you and Jazzy will be fine. As long as she’s breathing, Jazzy’s going to argue. That’s what she does but I know she loves you something fierce.”
Like I do.
I kissed the back of Niya’s hand and prayed for Big’s recovery and to ease Jazzy’s heart. Before I said amen, I couldn’t resist adding a request for God to find Jazzy a man so she could have her own business to mind.
“We’re coming up on the Staples Center,” Lionel, the Uber driver, said.
Niya lifted her head and leaned out the window, distracted by the driver’s words. Her eyes went wide. “Wow. It’s bright and sparkly, all lit up.”
I had been to a few basketball games there but I, too, exclaimed like I was seeing it for the first time. “We’ll have to come back another time and tour the town.”
“That’s where they had that rapper Nipsey Hussle’s funeral. Traffic in LA is already bad but that day was a nightmare,” the driver added.
I shook my head. “I can’t believe after all these opportunities we have for progress, black folks are still taking each other’s lives and fighting each other like crabs. That’s why we can’t get nowhere. We have enough people already against us, so we need to be united.” I drew a deep breath and told myself to stop talking before I spooked the white driver. I noticed he had gripped the wheel with both hands once I’d started talking. It was a shame that even with my low buzz cut, polo shirt, and slacks, I could be seen as threatening or even intimidating.
Niya squeezed my hand and I gave her a small smile. Then the driver surprised me by continuing the conversation.
“I get what you mean, my brother,” he chirped. “I’m Italian and we look out for each other. My family owns several pizzerias but I’m trying my own hustle after getting into it with my father. I’m about being my own man.”
I relaxed. “I can relate. My father was… Let me just say he inspired me to be better than he was.”
Niya touched my cheek. Her eyes were soft with compassion. I turned my head and swallowed my natural comeback of,Don’t feel sorry for me.Instead, I allowed her compassion to wrap around the wounds of my heart and bring healing. I kissed the top of her head and whispered. “I’m good now. I promise you.”
The driver fell silent and moved into the right lane toward our exit.
“Are we almost there?” Niya asked, holding back a yawn.
“Yes, we should get there by 7:30,” I said, looking at my watch. We were about 10 minutes away from Ms. Maizie’s house. I would be the last of the men to arrive. Marshall had already texted me that he and the other guys were there.
