Earl Sewell - Back to Me

“I’m hanging,” I said, trying not to sound depressed.

“I’m sorry about you and Misalo. I heard about what happened,” she said.

“Thanks, but it’s not over just yet.” I didn’t want her sympathy.

“Even after what he did to you? I mean breaking up is one thing, but doing what he did was just wack.” Sabrina looked at me as if I were dumb for even wanting him back.

“I love Misalo, okay? I’ve been with him for a long time, and you just don’t walk away when things get tough,” I told her, pleading my case.

“What’s up?” Mike asked as he walked up and handed Sabrina the T-shirt. While Sabrina was focused on the

T-shirt, I noticed Mike glancing at me with lust in his eyes.

“Oh, God! Not you, too!” I said with disgust.

Shrugging his shoulders, Mike said, “What?”

“You were just undressing me with your eyes, Mike. You saw the photos, didn’t you?” I asked.

Mike nervously glanced at Sabrina and then back at me.

“Come on. Be honest,” I said, urging him to tell me the truth.

Choosing his words carefully, Mike said, “One of the guys on the football team showed them to me. I told him he should delete them.” I knew Mike was lying through his teeth, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

“Well, I got the text photos, too. As soon as I saw the first picture, I started hitting the delete button,” said Sabrina. “Me, personally, I think you’re very brave for even coming out in public. You know how rumors spread around this town. People can take something as innocent as the sun shining and twist it into a story about a giant meteorite on a collision course with Earth. But I understand why you took the pictures. I know exactly what true love feels like. I took some sexy photos for Mike. I’m just so glad he kept his promise and didn’t forward them to all of his immature friends.”

“Well, Misalo said the same thing. I still haven’t found out why he did it,” I said.

“When I saw him earlier, I was going to ask him the same thing, but the moment I mentioned your name, he cut me off. He said that he didn’t want to talk about you at all,” Mike informed me.

“Wait, what do you mean, when you saw him earlier?” I asked.

“He’s here walking around somewhere,” Mike replied, confirming what I was thinking.

“Seriously?” I asked, glancing around the crowd and searching for him.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” asked Keysha, who’d come over after paying for her sunglasses.

“Damn! Those big-ass glasses make you look like a fly.” Mike insulted Keysha and then started laughing.

“That’s not funny, Mike,” Sabrina said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Forget you, Mike.” Keysha punched his shoulder several times.

“I was just joking. Jeez! Calm down,” Mike said as he moved away from Keysha.

“Where are you guys headed?” Keysha asked Sabrina and Mike.

“We’re going to the concession stand to get some food. Do you guys want to come with us?” Sabrina asked.

“No, we just came from there,” Keysha informed them. “I actually just saw Wesley, and he wanted me to head over to the main stage to watch some type of performance,” she announced.

“We were over there earlier, when a local dance school was performing. It was mostly little kids, though,” Mike said.

“Do you think Misalo is over there?” I asked.

“He might be. He was walking in that direction when I last saw him,” Mike said.

“Well, that’s where Keysha and I are headed,” I said.

“Cool. We’ll see you guys later,” said Sabrina as she looped her arm around Mike’s waist and began tugging him along.

“Peace.” Mike held up his first and second fingers as he and Sabrina backed away.

* * *

Keysha and I made our way over to the main stage. There were large banners with the logos of the corporate sponsors, speakers, microphones and an assortment of musical equipment. Tan metal foldaway chairs were neatly organized in rows, ten seats across and ten seats deep. All the seats were nearly filled.

“Look. Two people are getting up from those front-row seats,” Keysha pointed out.

We picked up our pace to ensure that we got the prime spot. Once we got situated, I took a glance around in search of Misalo, but I did not see him.

“So, what’s this all about, Keysha?” I asked as we watched a musician sit down and begin slapping his palms against bongos.

“I have no idea. In fact, I was very surprised to see that Wesley was out of rehab,” Keysha confessed.

“How did he look?” I asked.

“Really good,” she answered.

“So, like, where is Lori? Why wasn’t she attached to him?” I asked.

Keysha chuckled. “I asked the same question. I was, like, ‘So, where is your shadow?’ Wesley grimaced when I mentioned Lori. He said that she went back to Indianapolis to visit her family.”

“So, he’s still dating her?” I asked.

“According to him, he dumped her,” Keysha said.

Before long, a man appeared onstage. He walked up to a microphone that was positioned center stage. He adjusted the height of the stand and gave the microphone a few taps with the pads of his fingers to make sure it was on.

“Thank you for coming out and spending your afternoon with us here at today’s festival. My name is Omar, and I’m one of the many organizers of this event. This year I wanted to do something different. I wanted to showcase some local spoken word artists. I hope you enjoy their work and what they have to say. First up is Candice. She’s a freshman at Illinois State University.”

“I used to see her around Thornwood when she was a senior. I never knew she was a poet, though,” said Keysha.

“Hello, everyone,” Candice said, greeting the audience. She was wearing a cute blue and white top with a matching miniskirt. She looked as if she was about to say something really interesting. “This piece is called ‘Standing There.’”

He’s standing with her now.

And I’m remembering the way he used to be when he was with me.

Tell me. While you’re standing there with her, are you thinking about me?

Do you remember slow dancing with me? Do you remember what you said to me?

You used to kiss the crevices of my tortured heart. You used to look into my eyes and tell me all the things I needed to hear but didn’t care to listen to.

Do you ever think about me when you’re with her?

Because I think about you. I think about you the way moonlight thinks about stars. I think about you the way hearts think about love. I think about you the way a soul thinks about finding a mate.

I’m going to tell you what I really think about her.

She’s the knockoff of Chanel.

The prototype for everything I was to you.

She is a copycat.

She will never fill the void in your soul the way that I did.

Neither of you will ever know the pain I felt as I listened to you tell her

“I Do.”

The audience clapped for her because it truly was a very good poem.

Keysha leaned in close to me and whispered, “She was all up on your street with that line about ‘I think about you the way a soul thinks about finding a mate.’”

“Well, it’s true. I can’t help the way my heart feels,” I stated.

Omar came back on the stage. “Okay, moving right along. Next, we have Wesley.”

“OMG,” Keysha said as a smile spread across her face.

Wesley walked up to the microphone.

“I’m a little nervous,” he said as he scanned the crowd. The moment his eyes found Keysha, he smiled. “The poem I’m about to read is called ‘Keysha’s Heart,’ and I’d like to dedicate it to a very special friend.” He nodded in Keysha’s direction to let her know that he was referring to her.