Excerpts
from Soul Love
Aja
She
Loves Words Publishing, LLC
©
Aja Graves 2021
All
rights reserved.
Except
#1
As
I made my way down the dark wooden stairs to the bottom level, I thought of my
father and his demands. He wanted me to have what he and my mother had before
she died giving birth to me. But for the years that followed, he did nothing to
convince me that risking my heart, my life, my happiness, was worth the pain
I’d suffer if the woman I laid down roots with was to die. Or leave me. Nah,
I’m good.
I
heard the creak of the door before I saw her—well the back of her. She was
tall, at least 5’9 or 5’10 and her sandy brown hair was so thick and long,
Rapunzel came to mind. Her braid fell close enough to her sweetly curved ass
for me to make that assessment. Not even her baggy clothes could hide her
fantastic shape. If anything, it made me want to see more and I had to wonder
why she bothered to try and hide what was certainly God given. After she
finished fiddling with the lock of her door, she turned towards me and damn, if
she wasn’t fine, who the hell was.
The
light streaming through the windows of the wooden doors leading to the foyer,
shone in on her making her appear ethereal. The yellow glow around her, made me
think some angelic form stood before me to collect me from this world, and I
began wondering if I cared whether I was dead or alive if she was the one to
see me to my afterlife.
Excerpt
#2
The
strings of a guitar caught my attention first, and when I looked up to find
where the source of the melody came from, I saw him. Again.
He
sat on a stool at the area being transformed into the “night club” portion of
the restaurant. Cameron, the owner, initiated a plan he had to have live music
playing a few nights at Sizzle. New Year’s Day was the first night where he had
a live band that would perform a few times a week. I also heard he had a solo
musician, that he would rotate throughout the year, that would play before the
house band played and had played that night as well. Though I had been in New
Orleans with Rafe’s family, I heard this place was poppin’. They had to turn
some people away due to fire code restrictions.
I
had no idea who the musicians were, and hadn’t been remotely curious before,
but I did hear there was a guitarist that played like nothing they’d ever heard
before. Now I could agree. When I thought of guitar players, at least black
ones, I thought of either Gary Clark or Lenny Kravitz. Entirely different ends
of the spectrum mind you, but prolific and stand out personas. My neighbor and soul mate, Rashaad, was more
neo soul artist and his music was simply put, love over strings.
He
wore a chocolate brown fedora that he’d not had on when we crossed paths this
morning, making me wonder if he kept it in his car. His vest matched his hat,
and he wore it over a white tee. His dark blue jeans were crisp and creased and
on his feet were soft brown leather loafers. He strummed a few more notes
before doing a little adjusting on his guitar. A few more plucks of the strings
and he started the song over and I listened to what started as a love ballad.
His guitar cried out as if it were sad and wanted his lover badly, and then as
if it realized it exposed emotions it would rather keep inside, it jumped into
a fast-paced tune meant to get people bopping and rocking. The man handling the
guitar seemed to make the same transition and what had been a brooding
expression turned light, fun, uninhibited. He seemed free from worry, as he
dropped his tune. I stood in a daze and only came out of it once I realized the
music was no longer playing and I was staring into the brown eyes of the man
holding his instrument.
We
didn’t speak at first but after an extended pause filled with so many emotions,
I approached him. Why couldn’t this be a day I had no class? I wanted to skip
my Restaurant Management class just so that I could understand why he’d be my
soulmate.
“That
was beautiful. Is it yours?”
He
smiled and though I’m sure he’d been asked the question many times, he made me
feel like this time, my question, mattered.
“Yeah.
It’s a new one.”
“What’s
it called?”
“Hazel.”
He watched me for my reaction.
He
didn’t have to tell me what Hazel was about; I knew it was about me. My eyes.
Eyes that came from my father. All of his children had them.
I
held in a pleased smile. “I like it. I had no idea you would be playing here.”
“And
I had no idea you would be working here. You do work here right?”
“Yeah.
I’m an intern here. I go to culinary school.”
“That’s
what’s up. So you’ll probably be cooking food that’ll make my mouth water every
day.”
“Maybe,
maybe not.”
“That’s
alright, you don’t have to invite me over for food. I won’t force us to be
together more than we already have to be.”
I wanted to say it seemed like someone or
something, bigger than us, wanted us to be close to each other, with us living
in the same building and now working in the same restaurant, but I didn’t. I
didn’t want to scare him. I couldn’t. I needed him to stay put, especially
since I sensed he was a wanderer.
“I
won’t hold you. I know you need to get ready for your evening, right?”
He
stared at me, his dark eyes assessing me. “Yeah, but we’ll be seeing each
other.”
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