A Li'l Dab of Drama

by LaJill Hunt

  Omari

  If a year ago, anyone had told me that I would be in love, I would have told them that they had lost their mind. I had never even considered being in a relationship, let alone a committed one. Maybe it was because in high school, girls weren't really my focus. I was far from being a virgin, but being with just one girl back then wasn't on my list of priorities, especially with my track star status and the fact that my mother told me I was too young to be tied down. I dated, but, only because that was a prerequisite for sex, with most girls. Then, I really didn't have the chance to meet anyone, especially since I was in the penitentiary. There were girls that I met via pen pal. It was usually a "cellie" whose girl had a friend, and they gave them my address. For a while, letters would be sent back and forth and visits would be frequent, but eventually, it would play itself out. I had never really experienced love, to be honest. But, what I was feeling now, this indescribable warmth of emotion and excitement that I experienced every time I thought about Leah, it had to be love. It couldn't be anything else. I knew I was in love with her. The problem was, she didn't. The day she came out and asked if she could go running with me, I was shocked. We had been living next door to one another for months, but we had hardly spoken. She was secluded and withdrawn, barely leaving the house except to go to work. I knew she had somehow agreed to my living next door, but I figured she still felt threatened by me, and I didn't blame her. Coach told me that Mrs. G had told her all about my criminal background, and I'm certain that had a lot to do with her behavior. Who wouldn't be worried when they lived next door to a convicted drug dealer who had served nearly ten years for attempted murder? Hell, I would have been scared, too.

  The morning after our first run, I knocked on her door. I knew she was up because I heard her through the thin walls that separated our apartments. I waited a few moments, then knocked again. Finally, I heard her voice through the door.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's Mar-…Omari," I said.

  I heard her punching numbers into the burglar alarm, and the door opened, slightly, "What's up?"

  "Good morning, you ready?" I asked, smiling.

  "Ready for what?" She frowned.

  She was still in her pajamas. I looked down at my own athletic attire and said, "To run."

  "Are you crazy? I can barely move after yesterday," She whined.

  "That's why you need to hit it again this morning. Come on, let's go! Get dressed!"

  "Omari, if you don't get the hell away from this door, I swear," she groaned.

  "Okay, I'm just kidding, I did wanna check on you though and make sure you were good. Take a hot shower, do some stretches, and here's some aspirin. You should be good by this evening," I handed her the bottle of pills.

  She stared at me, still half-asleep and said, "It's six-thirty in the morning, and you're bringing me aspirin."

  "Yes, and checking on you," I nodded.

  She took the aspirin from me and sarcastically said, "Gee, thanks."

  I laughed and started jogging backwards, "Have a great day, don't forget to stretch, and I'll see you this evening for our run."

  "I'm not running anywhere anytime soon. I can barely walk."

  "I told you, running is about mental strength and endurance. It's not for everyone, so if you can't handle it, I understand."

  She didn't say anything, just stared at me for a few moments, then closed the door. I laughed and went on about my day. I didn't expect to see her again anytime soon. Later that evening I was pleasantly surprised when I headed out for my evening run, she was already out front and stretching.

  "Don't say a word," she growled and rolled her eyes at me.

  I smiled and went through my stretching routine, then said, "You ready?"

  "Yeah, let's get this over with,"

  "We can walk instead, if you want to," I suggested.

  "No, I'm strong enough to handle a run. Let's GO!" She said, taking off in front of me. I couldn't believe her, it was as if she had suddenly channeled the spirit of Jackie Joyner Kersey and wasn't the same woman who could barely walk earlier that morning.

  Running every evening with Leah became the highlight of my day. It was crazy because we didn't talk while we were running, we just focused on the run itself. When we first started, she could barely finish the five miles, especially without stopping periodically. But soon, we had increased it to seven, and she was right beside me the entire time. Our bodies moved in sync. I would listen to the sound of our feet hitting the pavement, simultaneously. We would return home, do our post-run stretches, and that's when we would engage in small talk. Slowly, she began to share little bits and pieces of her life. Like me, she grew up in a single-parent home, with the goal of one day taking care of her family. And also like me, she enjoyed cooking and reading. I already knew she had a love of art, but she threw me for a loop when she told me she loved Bruce Lee movies.

  "Stop lying! You don't know nothing about Bruce Lee, girl," I laughed.

  "Whatever, Fist of Fury and The Way of the Dragon are my favorite movies," she said matter-of-factly.

  The more I got to know her, the more I was amazed by her. I didn't really talk about myself, but I wanted to know everything about her. Some days, she was full of conversations, but there were days when she didn't have much to say. I never pried or pressed her, I just let her have her space.

  One evening, our run was cut short by a sudden thunderstorm. There were no signs of rain before we set out; but halfway on our course, the sky became dark and threatening. Clouds formed followed by thunderstorms releasing heavy showers on us. By the time we made it home, we were both dripping wet; we rushed into our apartments. I had just gotten out of the shower when all of a sudden, the power went out and I was surrounded by complete darkness. I fumbled until I found a flashlight and slipped into a pair of sweats and a wife-beater. My first instinct was to call Leah, but she didn't have a phone. Instead, I beat on the wall and called out to her.

  "Yo, you aight?"

  "Shit," I heard her mumble, "I can't find my flashlight."

  "I got one if you need it," I told her.

  "Thanks, but I'll be okay," she replied.

  "Cool. Well, if you need me, just bang on the wall," I yelled.

  "Okay."

  With no power, there was no TV, and without anything else to do, I decided to call it a night and go to bed early. I thought I was dreaming when a couple of hours later, I heard a tapping. I sat up in bed and listened, hearing it again.

  "Leah?"

  "Yeah," she said, "I'm sorry, were you asleep?"

  "No," I lied, "What's wrong?"

  I could hear the rain still coming down and the lights were still out.

  "Nothing."

  "You wanna come over here for a while until the storm is over?" I offered. Before she could answer, I told her, "I'm coming over to get you. Open the door so you can come out."

  I got up and slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed an umbrella, and made the fifty-yard trek to her front door where she was waiting with a pillow and blanket. She stepped under the umbrella and closed the door behind her. A few minutes later, we were standing in my living room. She was shivering and wet from the rain that had bypassed the umbrella and landed on her.

  "Here you go," I said, handing her a towel. She dried her face and hair, but I could see that she was still shivering, "Are you cold?"

  "No," she said, teeth chattering.

  "Have a seat," I told her, motioning toward the sofa, "The sofa is extremely comfortable, but I'm sure you know that, since you picked it out."

  "You're so NOT funny," she said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, still clutching her pillow and blanket.

  "Jeez, Leah, relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. You're safe here. Despite my criminal past, I'm a good guy," I sat on the loveseat across from her.

  "I know that," she said. "And I'm not thinking about your criminal past."

  "Then what's wrong?" I asked. The flashlight barely provided any ligh
t, but I was able to make out the look of terror on her face.

  "Don't laugh," she pleaded.

  "I won't."

  "You promise?"

  "I promise," I held up two fingers close together. "Scout's honor."

  "I doubt that you were ever a boy scout, Omari. So that doesn't impress me."

  "Just tell me," I said, still wanting to hear why she was so frightened.

  "I...I'm...see…" she stuttered, then said, "I'm afraid of the dark."

  At first, I thought she was joking and was about to laugh when I realized she wasn't smiling at all.

  "I wasn't always. As a matter of fact, it's kind of recent," she sighed, "I have so many issues I'm dealing with right now in my life. Being afraid of the dark is just one of them, to be honest."

  "Hey, we all have issues. If anyone understands that, I do. Hell, you know my story," I said and sat back.

  "Actually, I don't. We never talk about you. We always talk about me. And I'm usually the one doing all the talking. So, why don't you tell me your story?" The sound of her voice was soft. I wanted to walk over and put my arms around her, but I knew that she would probably become even more frightened than she already was. Even in the darkness, I could see the beauty of her face. The first day I saw her, I noticed how attractive she was, and now that she had started running, she had toned up and was even sexier. My attraction to her was beyond physical, I realized that as we sat in the dark room. Suddenly I wanted to know everything about her; the way I wanted her to know everything about me.

  I sat back and said, "Fine, I'll tell you mine first, and then you can tell me yours."

  "Deal," she said, "Let me just make myself comfortable."

  Hours later, after we had shared our tales and a few tears; Leah was in my guest bedroom, along with my flashlight. I lay awake in my bed, staring into the darkness. I was still trying to process everything she had shared with me. It was more than I expected, and I now realized why she was so withdrawn. She had been through hell and back over the past eight months and was still an emotional wreck. I admired the courage she had to leave her life behind and find her own peace. I now realized why there was so much hesitancy about my moving in beside her. It had just as much to do with Leah's past as it did mine. I was angry at her husband for the mental and physical abuse that he had done to her for no apparent reason. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, letting her know that everything would be okay. But I feared that touching her would be too much too soon and the last thing she needed. Although I knew that I was in love with her, I put those feelings aside and decided to be the friend she needed even more.

  Life Sentence

  Leah

  "So, basically, you're saying that you like him?" Dallas asked.

  "No, I don't like him, not like the way you're implying," I snapped.

  "Then why are you upset?"

  "I'm not upset."

  "Yes, you are," she laughed. "Leah, I've known you over ten years. I know when you like a guy."

  "I don't like him."

  "There's nothing wrong with liking him. Hell, why wouldn't you like him? From what you've told me he's a really great guy, not to mention he's fine as a mug!"

  "I don't like him," I repeated.

  "Okay, if you don't like him, you don't like him."

  The fact that Dallas knew me so well only added to my frustration, and the fact that I was frustrated made my frustration even worse. It wasn't her fault though. My entire day had been going wrong, starting with me oversleeping. I showered, got dressed, and hurried out of the house just in time to catch Omari and some female hugged up and walking into his apartment. I tried not to let it bother me; besides, he and I were just friends. Actually, he was just my neighbor. He had never given me any indication of us being more than that, and I hadn't gotten any type of vibe that he was even interested. He always treated me with kindness and respect; it was as if he went out of his way to let me know that we were just friends. The night of the storm when he came over to "rescue" me, I touched his arm as we held on to the umbrella and I could have sworn I felt a spark. And later that night, after we had confided in one another, I felt a shift, as if maybe, there was a spark of possibly being something more between us. Maybe it was because of the darkness surrounding us, or the sound of the thunderstorm creating an atmosphere of trust that enabled us to confide in one another, which we did. But, there was an intimacy that wasn't there before, and I liked it; I definitely wanted to feel it again. But, obviously, I had it all wrong because after that--more than ever--he had made it apparent that he considered me a friend, and that's all he wanted. We still ran daily, and I even joined him in on weekend mornings, where afterwards, we would stop and grab a smoothie on the way back home. He kept the conversation light and always stayed at a safe distance. Once, when I almost tripped while we were running, he reached over to catch me and as soon as I had my balance, he let me go so fast I almost fell again. Most men would have taken that opportunity to allow their arms to hold on a little tighter, their fingers to brush along my arms and linger just long enough to let me know that they enjoyed the feel of my body. Had Omari been attracted to me, I couldn't imagine him not doing the same thing.

  Seeing Omari with another female had me so flustered that I had to talk to someone. I called Dallas as soon as I got to what was now my office/supply room at Evelyn's day care. I had finished the child development center mural and was now working; I had immediately been contracted to paint a Caribbean restaurant which was scheduled to open in three weeks, and I had a few other jobs lined up. Calls to the center were becoming so frequent that Evelyn had a phone line installed for me.

  "I think you're forgetting the fact that I'm still married. I'm not in a position to like anyone," I said, reaching onto one of the shelves and pulling one of my sketch books down.

  "You're separated," she replied. "And speaking of your marriage, what are you gonna do about it? I mean, are you gonna file for divorce?"

  I had been wondering that same question. Filing for divorce meant contacting Kellen, which was something I had been avoiding, and apparently so had he. It seemed so much easier to just pretend that my marriage had never taken place and Kellen didn't exist.

  "I don't know," I sighed.

  There was a light knock at the door. I looked up to see Helen, the day care secretary, standing at the door holding up a newspaper.

  "Leah, did you see this? It's awesome!" She gushed and handed the paper to me.

  I glanced down to see what she was talking about and was shocked to see a huge picture of the child development center mural. The article was about how neighborhoods had taken on beautification projects and environmental improvements.

  "What the hell?" I murmured.

  "I know, it's amazing. When I talked to the paper, I was focusing on how the center was becoming 'green' and more environmentally friendly. I just thought he was gonna mention the school's name but this…this is more than we could ever imagine!" She squealed, "This is not only going to bring in more kids, but funding as well. They were so moved by the mural, they put us on the front page."

  I scanned through the article, praying that somehow, my eyes wouldn't land on the inevitable. Sure enough, in the middle of the article, there it was, 'Local artist, Leah Michaels, poured her heart and soul into what resulted in a kaleidoscope of colors, inviting one and all to enjoy the center and all it has to offer.'

  "What's wrong?" Helen frowned, "You don't like the picture?"

  "It's not that," I said. "It's a great picture. Thanks for showing it to me."

  "I knew you'd be proud," she nodded and walked out of the office.

  I stared at the photo, and had circumstances been different, had my life been different, had I been different, maybe I would have been able to enjoy the fact that my work had been featured on the cover of a national newspaper. Instead, I knew that this was one moment I would regret.

  "Helloooooo!"

  I forgot that Dallas was on the phone and q
uickly said, "I'm here."

  "What's wrong?" She asked.

  I told her about the article that the school had been featured in, and that my name had been mentioned as the artist. "He's gonna find me. He's gonna find me and kill me."

  "Calm down, Leah. He's not gonna find you, because he's not looking for you," she said, attempting to reassure me. "First of all, people don't even read the newspapers these days. Everything is digital. And let's be real, Kellen can barely read."

  "It's a national newspaper. Someone is gonna tell him."

  "No, they won't. Listen, I have a meeting to go to. I need for you to relax and don't do anything crazy, or drastic. Promise me you'll call me later. I don't know why your ass won't get a cell phone, anyway," Dallas hissed. "God forbid something happens to you, how are you gonna call for help?"

  She had a point, and I had thought about that. But, the fact was that I kind of enjoyed not having a cell phone. It relieved me from the responsibility of constantly being available in case someone important called, such as Dallas, my mother, Anna, or Evelyn; and I didn't have the paranoia of the slight chance of Kellen miraculously tracking me down. I knew having a cell phone was inevitable, especially if my art jobs remained steady, but for now, it wasn't a necessity. The lack of one made me feel a little safer.

  I looked down at the newspaper photo again and silently prayed that Dallas was right about Kellen and his borderline illiteracy. Folding the paper and putting it in the bottom of my desk drawer, I gathered the sketches that I had prepared to present to the owner of the restaurant who I was meeting. I tried to fight off the irritated feeling, and then it hit me: the feeling didn't have anything to do with Kellen. I was still bothered by Omari and his new skank girlfriend.

  By the time I made it home later that evening, I was livid. I could hardly focus during the meeting. The owner loved my designs and even asked if I could start the following day. I agreed, not even taking into consideration that I didn't have half the materials I needed until after I left. All I kept thinking about was Omari, who was probably all cuddled up in some cozy restaurant, whispering in her ear, telling her how much he wanted her. Her hand was probably pressed on his hard chest, slowly moving up and down as she felt his muscular body. By the time I walked into my apartment, I had decided that they had already started planning their holiday wedding and naming their kids. I tried to block out the images of the two of them laughing as they walked up the driveway earlier that morning. The love between them was so obvious, it was sickening to me. He hadn't even had the decency to mention he was dating someone. Well, technically, he didn't have to, because I was nothing to him…nothing…after all, we were just neighbors. My eyes fell on the clock hanging on my kitchen wall. It was six-thirty, the time we would normally go running, and Omari hadn't even made it home. Feeling pathetic, I undressed and climbed into bed without even eating, wishing I wasn't afraid of the dark. I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep until I heard a knock at the door. I sat up and was about to answer it, then I heard Omari's voice calling my name.