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“But there are thousands of people in the church. How could you know I’d see him?”
“In a room full of a million people, if there’s one thing you want, you’ll see it.”
“Oh, you’re so sure of yourself.”
“I have reason to be.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I am who I am.”
“You’re ...” I shook my head, trying to remember where I’d heard that quote in the Bible. “Exodus—”
“3:14.” He grinned, knowing I didn’t expect him to know where that came from.
“That’s blasphemy!” I couldn’t help but grin back as I said this.
“What?”
“You’re too cocky.”
“I should be cocky. I’m a black man.”
“Here we go again.”
“No. No. No.” He reached out for me, placing his hand between my arm and torso. “You want to know why I’m really cocky today?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m here with you.”
I looked away, knowing my cheeks revealed my excitement at hearing that.
He pulled me closer to the side of the stream where a big, flat rock sat right in the middle.
“Let’s sit down.” He pointed to the rock, but there was a little pool of water between the dirt where we were standing and the rock.
“I’ll never make it in these shoes,” I said, looking at my heels.
“Okay,” he said, putting out his arms to pick me up.
“Oh no, you can’t pick me up. I’m too big,” I said. “I’ll just take off my shoes and—ohh!”
I was up in the air. Before I could finish my statement, Dame picked me up and hopped onto the rock light and assured like it was a lily pad. He let me down slowly and easily as if he could hold me for another five hours and I felt so light. So impossibly light and just manageable. After easing down to my feet with his arms still held at my sides, I realized I had no clue how big or small I was right then. It didn’t matter. In front of him I purely felt like a woman. A graceful, precious, feminine woman who was okay ... as is. My diet was permanently over.
“I know you said you didn’t want to see me again, but I can’t do that again. I just can’t stop thinking about you,” he said after we sat down. “Since you came to Atlanta, it seems like everything else in my world is just dead.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing, too,” I said.
“I can’t go back to that. I can’t pretend anymore.”
“But I—”
“Wait, before you say that, let me say something,” he said, pulling me down to sit on the rock beside him. “I don’t care about my image, my fans, the industry—I don’t give a damn what anyone in that club the other night thought about what I had to say about how I feel about you. I’m open and I’m not going to hide it anymore.” He paused and looked at me. “Now, all I want to hear from you right now is what you really feel—not what you believe you should feel or should say. I want to know what you really feel about me because that’s all I’m giving you. I’m not hiding anything.”
He pitched a rock he’d picked up out into the stream, and the yellowhammer appeared again, flying from a branch along the canopy. Another followed behind it.
“You make me feel like I’m ten years younger—and not like I did when I really was ten years younger—with duties and promises—my life set out in front of me like a map I couldn’t change. Maybe like I should’ve felt then. Like I could do anything. Go anywhere. And that’s something because before, I was so comfortable, and now ... well, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. Afraid somebody might find out. But that fear—that rush—has made me see everything differently. Like what I would do if I could just pick up that map and tear it up and walk away ... just leave everybody,” I said, looking at him. “And when I think about walking away—even though I know I can’t—I think about you. About your energy. Your kindness. How everyone just looks when you walk into a room. It’s like you’re electric. You own yourself and you don’t care what people think. And no matter how old you are, that’s the most manly thing I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s beautiful.”
