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It was still crazy to see this new, polished, and church-cultured Lex Grier from Harlem World. I still hadn’t gotten used to it.
“What it do, Peach?” I greeted when she moved to hug me.
“I was lucky to find you two.” Peach nuzzled Chivon’s cheek this time.
I was a little stuck. “So, you cheated on your congregation today?”
Peach’s face wrinkled. “I told you I’d be here today. Remember the nativity production for Chi-Chi’s you know what?”
My eyes rolled closed.
Damn.
“My bad. Yeah. That.” I couldn’t help but to look over at Josie again. It was easy to. “Ummm…” I didn’t know what to say at first, so damn out of the dating game.
“Cat’s got your tongue this time,” Lex snickered.
Shaking my head, fighting my own humor, I tossed my chin toward shortie. “You mind if we exchange information?”
Lex’s eyes blew the hell up. I ignored her, not wasting a single moment giving a fuck.
Josie seemed surprised by that. Eyes blinking and forehead stretched, she pushed out, “Of course, not!” Then she reached for her purse, I assumed for her phone.
“Daddy,” Chivon pouted my way with glossed, sugary lips. “I go potty.”
“Oh.” My eyes swung around, blindly looking for a restroom.
I was really off my mental game and needed to get my shit together. I never tripped off women and wouldn’t start now. But something about this felt…a’ight.
“Godmommy can take you.” Peach offered, communicating something with her eyes again. “Give us girls a minute to right ourselves.” She turned to leave, looking over her shoulder. “Meet you back right here?”
“Yeah,” Josie gushed, though the question was never posed to her. “Unfortunately, but yes.” Her eyes never leaving me.
I knew right away that remark wasn’t to diss Peach.Nah. Ol’ girl was making it high-key clear to me she was feeling the kid.
That’s what’s up…
Standing at the mirror of my bathroom vanity, I observed the faint crow’s feet on the sides of my eyes. Tonight, the bags beneath them were visible again. I was grateful they weren’t a hue darker than my natural complexion. That happened now, too. It began a year ago when my team and I were preparing for Dale’s U.S. concert tour. Aging.And too prematurely. I observed, studying myself in the mirror, then nodded faintly. It was happening to…me.
Then I questioned how it happened. The last memories I had of life at a reasonable pace were when I’d decided to step out of the shadows of my father’s dream and vacation that year, month after month. I wanted to explore the world and drag my girls with me, even if it was at my own expense. That would be my first step in declaring my independent space against my father’s. And I’d done that. I’d gone to several breathtaking locales with my best friends and had the best times.
So how did I gethere?
Have you ever sat with your shit? Like…really taken out the time to look into the mirror at your reality? Your ugly?
When my cousin, Diana, and I used to fight, our grandmother would break us up and plop us in two chairs facing the corners of the room. She’d say, “Now, you sit in ya ugly and thank about what ya did.” We’d sit for close to an hour sometimes, and I learned to think. Sitting with my ugly gave me the time and mental space to explore my behaviors and plan my next course of action.
But damn…
Lookingat my ugly through a mirror was far more terrifying than glowering at a wall.
Who are you?
Each day, I grew to resemble my mother more and more. My youth had been quickly fleeting. What was the plan now? How had I gotten here? The biggest professional competition of my life was in less than ten hours. Before my attention had gotten locked into this mirror, I’d been packing my makeup and toiletry bags for the show. One cursory glance and I caught my ugly—and not in the sense of lacking outward beauty.
My ugly was my discontentment. The lack of pride I carried in spite of recent successes. It didn’t matter that I’d risen to become one of the most sought-after choreographers in the industry; I’d grown hollow inside. Empty. Would dancing be my only legacy?
At the alarming ache renting my belly, I stroked my abdomen. Then the smarting caved my chest, forcing my other hand there. I dropped my face. What was this gnawing lingering of blues I’d taken on in my life? What began as just sporadic preoccupation of thoughts of dissatisfaction had been blossoming into full-on body manifestations.
