Concrete Island

by Anita Davis

  Winding and grinding on him, I reached behind me and grabbed his neck and he rested his chin on my shoulder as we completely fell in sync with one another.

  I could feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against my butt, which made me arch my back and really grind into his tight hold of me before I couldn’t help but to turn around and look at him.

  When I turned to face him, I kept my eyes trained on his as I winded my pelvis into his.

  My face moved in closer to his and I could feel his ragged breaths painting my face. I pulled back a little from him to see the faintest smile on his face. “You should do that more.”

  “What?” He grazed the tip of my ear a little after he leaned in to whisper in my ear.

  The action sent an exhilarating shiver down my spine and I guess my shudder caused him to rub his hand up and down my exposed arm.

  Everything about our closeness, the moment, felt so right. I wanted more of it from him. “I was saying that you should loosen up more around me. It’s beautiful.”

  He chuckled softly, but then his smile faltered a little and his voice deepened when he said, “But not as beautiful as you.”

  Those few words of his led us into a deep eye-fucking session as we barely swayed to the music but held on to one another.

  A throat clearing behind me tried to pull my attention from staring into his eyes, but whoever was trying to get past us would just have to squeeze by, or if they were trying to cut in on our dance, they were out of luck because neither one of us seemed concerned with leaving each other’s embrace, presence.

  I felt a tug on my arm before the voice of the offender leaned in and said, “Starr, sorry to interrupt y’all, but if you want to get down to the station on time, we have to leave now.”

  I grunted and looked at Rikia over my shoulder. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” I looked back at Chris thinking the connection that held us so closely together for the past couple of songs would have passed, but when I looked in his eyes and still saw the mixture of curiosity, admiration, want, and a few other things I couldn’t quite make out, I knew that special energy was still strong between us.

  Interlacing my hands with his, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I have to go now.”

  “Do you really?” His voice held so much disappointment that I wished I could stay there with him the rest of the night, but I just couldn’t forfeit the opportunity I had been given to advertise the Carnivale on the radio for free.

  “Yeah,” I pulled back to look in his pretty brown eyes. “I hope to see you again soon, though.”

  “Me too.” I heard him say as I hesitantly released his hand and was rushed away by Rikia and a whining Tamara for having to leave the club at that point in time.

  ***

  “Chicago, I’m not whispering in the dark because I have to scream this out loud.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the locally famous nighttime DJ who lulled me to sleep with his slow and sexy R&B many weeknights over the years. He also had kept me amped up on weekends with his hit list of bangers blaring through my speakers when I came in from partying.

  “Chicago, we have the lovely, Professor Starr Night in the building, in the studio.”

  His energy was infectious and made me sit more upright in my seat. I’m certain my wide smile cracked my face. I tampered it enough to talk into the mic positioned in front of me. “Thank you so much, DJ Red for having me here tonight.”

  “It’s our pleasure. Listen folks, DJ Double Down over at Reggie’s Lounge helped to get Starr in here and for a good reason, so listen up. Tell the people what’s coming next weekend to our fabulous city.” He motioned his hands as if he was giving me the floor to speak.

  I patted the headphones on the side of my head to make sure they were secured, leaned into the mic a bit more and said, “Hi everybody, like DJ Red said, we have something big coming to Chicago next weekend. Hopefully, most of you all have heard about the Chi-Flavor Afro-Caribbean Carnivale being held over at Northerly Island, but if you haven’t, you can go to www.chiflavorafrocaribbeancarnivale.com to learn more about it.

  “There, you’ll see that carnival games and rides will go on all weekend long, so it’s family-friendly. There will be a parade Saturday morning and then the bands and dancers, playing mas’, will light up the city with their festive colors and music. And we’ll conclude the weekend on Sunday with some of the hottest musical acts in the world. Please share the weekend with all you know. There’ll be loads of fun from a magnificent Afro-Caribbean culture that you need to experience.”

  “Sounds great and you know I’ll be there. We have to get back to the music, but once again folks, that was Starr Night, one of the initiators of the Afro-Caribbean Carnivale going on next weekend that you and yo’ momma nem need to be at.”

  He put on a Snoh Aalegra hit and then looked at me and said, “Starr, it was a pleasure having you here and I hope that being on the air helped to make the crowd bigger next weekend.” He stood and held his hand out for me to shake.

  In return, I stood and shook his hand. “DJ Red, please know that I definitely appreciate the opportunity to promote the event on your show. I’ll get out of your way and get home to listen to the rest of the show. Can you throw in some Bob Marley or Sister Nancy’s “Bam Bam” in about an hour? I’ll be home by then.”

  “Sure thing. Be safe.” He smiled, sat back down and put his headphones on again as his show producer cued him for the commercial break.

  I quietly stepped out of the studio, overwhelmed with giddiness that I was given yet another opportunity to promote the Carnivale. Hopefully, people who didn’t know anything about it were tuned in while I was on-air and would soon be among the Carnivale attendees experiencing the vast and beautiful festival cultures of Afro-Caribbeans.

  *8*

  Chris

  “We won’t be pushed out!” I shouted the mantra I had come up with on the ride over to DePaul University’s campus.

  I had graduated from Howard University with a degree in Afro-American Studies and knew how involved my student cohorts had been in striving for social change. With that in mind, I figured going to Starr’s school where they had a similar degree pursuit, I could hopefully persuade the students there to join forces with me to save us in the city.

  Because I had shared my plans with those that attended my weekly meetings, Kesha had volunteered to accompany me to the campus that evening. Although I knew her help could benefit me, I didn’t want her to confuse our time together away from our headquarters as some kind of quasi-date.

  Fortunately, with us being busy actually engaging most of the people we stopped on their paths to and from classes, we barely had spoken to each other during the hour we had been out there. I was grateful for all of the buffers and was ready to call it a night when I turned to face Kesha and tell her it was a wrap, but locked eyes with Starr as she crossed the center of campus.

  That gravitational pull, the one that sparked between us the first time we met and came to a head when we danced, caused us to walk towards one another. When she was an arm’s length from me, she spoke first, “Christopher.”

  “Starr.” I was feeling her but not her cause and the latter must’ve come out in my dichotomous tone.

  She chuckled, more like scoffed at me. “Why do you…hate me? I thought we remedied that with our dance the last time we saw each other.”

  “I don’t hate you, I just…” I sighed. “I left the club after you left that night. I took a ride down Lake Shore Drive and thought I would vibe to the playlist DJ Red normally hits us with on Saturday nights, and imagine my…surprise.” Since I had quickly changed my last word from what I was thinking, I offered her a tight-lipped and fake smile before I got back to talking. “I heard you on a big platform, yet again, promoting your party. I’m just frustrated with the access you’re given to speak to the masses versus the platform I have. I honestly feel like your time can be better utilized talking about the effects of systemic racism
, gentrification, underfunding, and so much more ailing our community than promoting your party.”

  “So you’re pretty much a hater?”

  “What? No.” I couldn’t bring myself to be too mad at her off assumption, given how attracted to her I was.

  “It would be greatly appreciated if you would stop reducing the Afro-Caribbean Carnivale as just a party. I’m starting to think that you don’t know your history, your roots.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m not just talking about the history of African Americans in this country but those of the diaspora as a whole. Because if you did, you should have better insight as to why the carnivals are so important to us abroad.” She pointed at me and I felt the sting of her words and saw the fire of her conviction in her eyes.

  “I—” she didn’t let me utter another word before cutting me off with her finger still aimed at my chest. It was a wonder that she hadn’t reached out and poked me yet.

  “I’ve heard your plight enough times to get it, but clearly, you haven’t heard mine enough to let up on me at the least, so let me spell it out for you. We are both about the empowerment of our people. Obviously, I care about the social issues affecting us. That’s why I’m an AA studies professor. I studied and became one to drive home to students the richness of our origins, help them to think critically about our history, and show them how that knowledge and urge to do something positive with the information affects the present and future generations.

  “While you’re walking around with your chest puffed out thinking that your voice is the only one that matters, I really want to know who made you God and gave you the authority to decide whose cause is greater and better than the next person’s?” She folded her arms across her chest and stood there tapping her foot as if she were waiting on an answer to what I thought was a rhetorical question.

  I’ll admit that if it were any other woman standing there silently demanding for me to speak like she was, I would’ve wished her well and kept my distance from her. But I couldn’t.

  This woman had beckoned me from across a dark and crowded room with just her alluring eyes and the crook of her finger.

  Her way with words and intellectual mind wooed me long before the curve and swivel of her hips had molded perfectly into the embrace of my body.

  A woman who had me dancing in public when I don’t do it even in private. One who had me thinking about her when I had so much else to worry about–she was truly something else. Her beauty and vibe was too magnetic to ignore.

  With every encounter with her, I recognized just how layered she was. She didn’t annoy me, but more so my platform not getting the exposure and backing I felt it needed is what vexed me.

  I guess my musings had kept me silent for too long, because she dropped her arms and said, “If you can’t come at me better the next time you see me, with your head out of your ass, keep walking by.” With those words, she offered me the same fake smile I had given her earlier and then she walked away.

  My eyes probably would’ve watched her fleeting back until she was no longer in my view, but Kesha walked up to me. She caused me to lose sight of Starr when I looked back into the crowd of people, hoping to spot her in her bright orange top that popped against her sun-kissed and beautiful skin.

  “Kesha?” The befuddled look on her face made me say her name as more of a question.

  “You know what, I’ll save you the trouble of trying to let me down in the subtle way you have been.”

  “What are you talking about?” My forehead creased.

  “I mean, you don’t look at me the way you look at her. Or engage me the way you do her.”

  I felt like her bringing it up was a good time as any to talk about matter and yet I didn’t know exactly what to say. I didn’t want to offend her or hurt her feelings.

  “Really, it’s fine. I could see that you weren’t interested in me. I mean, when Mrs. Rutledge put us on blast that day, you never approached me like you were interested in me. I should’ve took that as a sign, but I volunteered even more with you in an attempt to get you to see how great of a woman I am.”

  “Make no mistake about it, you are a great woman.”

  “Yeah, just not the woman for you…That wasn’t a question, more like a statement of fact. Good thing that we didn’t ride here together, now we don’t have to have an awkward ride home.” She buffered the brief silence between us with a humorless chuckle.

  I sighed. “Kesha.”

  “Christopher, it really is okay. We miss all of the shots we don’t take.”

  I smiled at her metaphor, thinking on how big of basketball fan she told me she was.

  “And don’t worry about it, I won’t lessen my volunteering in an attempt to avoid you. I know that everything does and doesn’t happen for a reason, but if I can offer you some advice?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I could only admire her for how well she was taking things not going anywhere between us. And not that I felt that she was so beholden to me that letting her down would’ve shattered her world, it’s just that in today’s time, people are more prone to having meltdowns when things didn’t go there way rather than embracing noes.

  “Like I said, it’s plain to see that you’re into her. Don’t be the idiot that wants a woman but lets her get away because of his pride. I didn’t hear much of what she said, but what I did hear her say was right. You both have great causes that are meant to empower blacks and can be strived for at the same time. Don’t think that your cause is better than hers. Keep it up and you’ll turn her off and push away someone that could be good for you and good to you.”

  My brows lifted at her bluntness.

  “Don’t be so surprised by me. I figured since you don’t mince words, you would want me to shoot straight from the hip, so I did. Think about what I said and since you know she’ll be at the Carnivale this weekend, maybe you should be there too. Might expose you to more people to pass these out to.” She waved the pamphlets in her hand at me. “And you might even have the chance to right your wrongs with her.”

  “Well, tell me how you really feel, Kesha.”

  We both laughed.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.” I motioned towards the concrete path that would lead us back to the parking lot.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay. It’s such a beautiful night. I think I might walk the grounds a bit more before I head home. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “You too, Kesha.” She walked away and I was left alone not only with my thoughts but with what Starr had said to me as well as Kesha’s upfront advice.

  It was a no brainer to see just how perfect Starr could be for me given her passion for us as a people, her all-around energy, and the vibe between us. But I probably had run her off with my need to push my agenda above hers.

  *9*

  Starr

  “All around the world, people gather at carnivals to celebrate life. The Caribbean calls it a creative and artistic festival of expression that’s exhibited through colorful parades. Chicago has gotten in on the action with our very own Chi-Flavor Afro-Caribbean Carnivale to bring some of the island flavor and heritage to the city.” I stood on the mainstage for the weekend and looked out at the beautiful and big crowd, spread across the grass outside of Soldier Field, cheering loudly and I had to fight back the tears stinging my eyes. So many of us had shown up and I couldn’t have been any more elated than what I was at that moment.

  I took a deep breath and got back to the task at hand, delivering the opening speech that Saturday morning. “Not that my profession makes me more knowledgeable than anyone else on the subject matter, but since I am a Professor of African and Black Diaspora Studies at DePaul University, for years I have been a student of us, our origins and our legacies. I have intimate knowledge of the exceptional gifts and elevating contributions of African and African descended people, communities and countries in regards to societies here and all over the world and I’m in awe of it all.

  “W
hile most of the morning will focus on what is called ‘playing mas’, bands competing with the best DJs, costumes, and dancers, it is done so and with pride because for years on islands like Trinidad and Tobago, enslaved Africans weren’t allowed to participate in the ‘prestigious’ masquerade balls called fetes. We were mocked with blackface in the festivals but were forbidden from participating in them even though they had stolen the concept from West African religious cultures and societies.

  “But as always and with centuries of oppression, hatred, and ignorance spewed at us, we take derogatory things and dire situations and flip them. We reclaimed what our ancestors invented and amped it up. Emancipated slaves shortened the masquerade to ‘mas’ and rebooted the festival to reflect the carnivals celebrated in today’s time.

  “So what you’ll see as ‘playing mas’ is not just an excuse for us to drink and dance in the streets, but it’s our, descendants of the Diaspora, ongoing declaration of just how rich, inventive, and beautiful our melanin, heritage, music, and creativity is. The Afro-Caribbean community in Chicago is beautiful, you guys. Commune with your brothers and sisters today as we celebrate.

  “Rejoice in knowing it is a celebration of our foundations, our ancestors. It is a celebration of life. Enjoy it all on our concrete island.” The resident mas’ band playing on stage amped up the music and the crowd on the grounds in front of the stage went wild as they raised their cups and began hopping and dancing to the lively music.

  My heart was overjoyed by the sea of jovial melanin before me.

  I danced my way offstage and headed to meet up with Rikia and Tamara to change into our mas’ costumes and get dolled to play mas’.

  ***

  Chris

  Even though everyone around either had beer in their hands and was dancing to the music or adjusting their bright-colored costumes, I never passed up the chance to share my cause with a crowd of blacks in the city.