Page 36 of Lyric Squared

“But why didn’t you write back? Why’d you keep me waiting?”

“Because I didn’t have the words for you, Lyric. I’m no poet, baby. I’m a street nigga. I sell dope and tote guns. I’m not one to write words as engaging or as beautiful as the ones you wroteme. My presence tells a story of its own, no words needed. From the day that got that message up until the moment that I saw you tonight, I thought about making it home toyou. This visit was happening regardless of if I’d run into you or not. Because I thought you were still waiting for me, still marking your fucking calendar, and still preparing for everything you mentioned in your letter.”

“I checked my email at least twelve times a day for a month straight. I was desperate to hear from you. To hear anything. I felt like you disregarded me. Disregarded my feelings. You popping up at my house won’t get me past it so easily.”

“Ok.”

I was quickly reminded that Lyric was not as passive as most. When there was confusion, she sought clarity. When there was chaos, she sought order. When there were reservations, she sought a new path. When there was an issue, she sought a resolution.

“I hear you and I understand you, Lyric. Now that I know how my silence affected you, I will learn to meet you halfway. Is that a good enough resolution for you, love?”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes, baby. I mean it.” Referring to her as whom I’d already considered her for the last three months felt most natural to me, but it caused her brows to rise.

“Anything else, Lyric?”

“I feel so unsure,” she acknowledged.

Leaning forward, I placed my hands on each side of the bed. With our lips only a few inches apart, I looked her in those doe-y eyes of hers.

“It’s me, Lyric.”

“It’s you.” She nodded, closing her eyes and then reopening them as if I’d disappear.

“It’s me.”

“My intentions aren’t to be selfish,” she reasoned.

I’d dealt with Lyric all my life. She was the center of everyone’s world around her. I didn’t have an issue making her the center of mine, too. In fact, it was what I was most excited about.

“You’re not.”

“So, tell me, what are you thinking? What do you want from me? I don’t want to underdeliver. I want to be fair. I want to be considerate. I want to give you want you want,” she rambled, her nerves beginning to sprout. Though the shit made her mad cute, I desired her comfort. She was safe with me.

“I want you to understand that you’re safe with me.”

“I know.” She bowed her head briefly and then raised it again. “Anything else, Keanu?”

Hearing my government fall from her lips was heavy. I loved that shit.

“I’m going to marry you,” I smiled, causing her to smile, “and give you those kids you keep imagining for us.”

“My brothers will leave you no choice. Two,” she called out.

“Fuck both of them niggas. And, two,” I agreed.

“Anything else?”

“Don’t be sad.” After a peck on the lips, I told her. “I hate when you’re sad.”

“My feelings are just hurt but at the same time, my heart can’t phantom your presence. It’s like, I can see you, but you’re like really here.” Those same cat-like eyes sparkled with tears before they fell onto her cheeks.

“I’m here,” I confirmed, wiping her face.

“These are not sad tears, Keanu.”

“I know.” I did. I could feel it, feel the happiness she’d buried beneath her strife.