I gently wash your body as you soak in the tub. Your eyes are closed. Epson salt is dissolved in the water to relax your muscles. An incense breathes smoke into the bathroom that sways around you and I. With the intention of your healing, I kiss your cheek and your chin, then your forehead. I kiss both your eyes where the skin is purple and bruised.
You tremble and the water vibrates.
“Lana, how are you feeling?”
“Better now that I am with you.”
You place a warm, wet palm on my cheek and flutter open your swollen eyes to look into mine. I kiss the inside of your hand, and choke back tears.
“I won’t let anybody hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s not your fault, Dauhd. It’s mine. I don’t even know what I saw in him. I’m—wait, what’s that on your neck?”
“Huh?”
“Your neck, Dauhd. What is that?”
I stand up and wearily walk over to the mirror completely sure of what I’m about to see. Images of Monica sucking on my neck flash through my mind. My reflection reveals the hickey. I exhale and turn away from the sink to look at you.
Wincing in pain, You step out of the tub and wrap my olive green bath towel around your body. You sit on the toilet and cross your legs.
“Dauhd. What’s going on?”
“Lana. Baby. It’s 6:50 a.m,” I say looking at my watch, “Please. Don’t do this right now. You know what it is.”
“I don’t care what time it is. How could you?”
“Lana, do you want me to help you lotionize so you can get dressed and lay down. You need to rest your body. Just let me take care of you.”
“I don’t want you touching me. Who is she?”
I kneel down on the tile in front you. I look up into your dilated pupils.
“Look. I was with somebody when you called me. I’m sorry. I had sex with her.”
“What!”
“Villana. Stop. Okay? Stop. Either you want to be here with me or you don’t. It’s you and me right now. Forget about her, okay? I was only with her cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you. There. Okay? She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Then why did you have sex with her?”
“I don’t know, baby,” I say quietly hanging my head.
“Do you love her—“
“No.”
“Why did you have sex with her, Dauhd?”
“Lana. I don’t. Know.”
You wrap your hands around my cheeks and pull my face up to look at you.
“Dauhd…what is going on?”
“I been having sex with different women.”
“When?”
“Usually when I’m not with you.”
“You spend nights with them?”
“No. It’s not like that. I just…I’m jealous, Villana. I’m just jealous of these men that get to have you. I feel inferior. That I can’t pleasure you…”
“Dauhd, my sex addiction has nothing to do with you. Nothing, okay? Are you dating these women?”
“It’s not like that…I mean…”
“Dauhd!”
“Yes. There’s one woman. We go out sometimes to dinner or for drinks or…whatever.”
“Where do you get the money?”
“She usually pays. She’s a lot older than me.”
“And then…you fuck her.”
“…yeah.”
“Huh. Well, damn. This is good to know.”
“Villana, I just want to hold you. You been through a lot tonight, don’t hold this against me. We both have shadows.”
“Dauhd. You’re not even like that. You don’t even drink.”
“I know. I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know. This is hard for me.”
You get up and leave the bathroom. I follow you and try to get you to talk to me but you ignore me and put on one of my shirts and curl up under the covers of my thrifted king bed. I slither out of my clothes and slide in behind you, but keep my distance. I cut the light out and we both fall asleep within minutes.
The next day, you spring up in the bed.
“I got it!” You declare.
I open one eye, “You got what?”
“I should meet these women. It can be a thing: you, me, these women. We can all do stuff.”
“Do you want breakfast? I have pancakes.”
There’s a knock on the door.
“Yo, D. You in there?”
“Hold up!”
I slide on a pair of boxers and open the door. One of my housemates, Kevin, stands leaning against the post with a phone to his ear and a 5 o’clock shadow.
“What’s up, man?” We dap each-other five, and I yawn.
“Aye, bro, cover that up,” He says inching backward a bit.
I cover my mouth with my hand, “My bad, man. You alright?”
“Yeah, man, where you been?”
“Long night, dude.”
He glances past me into the darkened room, curtains still drawn, and notices Villana.
He nods with a silent, “whose that?” in her direction.
I shake my head.
He nods, immediately understanding that something about the situation is complex.
“Well, I was coming to get you cause Sal is having one of his music competitions tonight at the Bar and Grill. He just announced it earlier today. $500, winning prize, man. You should perform, that’s easy money for you.”
“Yeah? What time?”
“Seven-thirty, man. Get up. Wash ya ass. Meet me down there this evening. You been waiting for a break, don’t pass this up. I heard some producers will be down there, too, looking for some artists. So wassup?”
“Let me check my to do list. I got to—“
“Aye hey aye. Listen. You got one shot at this, alright? You ain’t getting no younger. I expect to see you, man. You been working on that music from time. Let people hear you.”
“Alright, brother. Say no more,” I clench my fist and give him the power sign, “thank you.”
He returns the power sign, “Yeah.”
I start to shut the door, but Kevin blocks it with his steel toe.
“Aye, man.”
“What?” I say.
“Be careful.”
I nod, knowingly then shut the door.
“So…you gonna perform?”
I climb back into the bed and start doing some deep breaths, “Yeah. Looks like it.”
“That’s cool. Should I come?”
“Lana, I don’t want anybody to see you like that.”
“Nothing a little makeup can’t fix.”
“How long you been hiding marks from me, huh?”
“Longer than you can imagine.”
You hop up, and then are completely blindsided by the pain of your body.
“Oooo. Shit. This is going to take a while to heal,” you say flopping back into the bed, “I gotta pee.”
“Here, let me help you.”
I hold your waist as you slowly inch into the bathroom. I help you sit down and provide a crutch for you with my body as you wash your hands.
“Thank you,” you say as I help you lay back down.
“No problem, baby. You mad at me?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“Until you fuck me and make it better.”
“Lana…cmon. I don’t think we need to be having sex.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“I mean, I know what I said, but I don’t want any other woman pleasuring you.”
“Lana, I really got to focus for tonight okay. Just try to relax, I’ll cook you some food.”
I go into the bathroom and scrub the blood in the tub from your bath and wipe away the incent ashes. I drop my underwear to the floor and cut on the shower, letting the cool water cleanse the energy of my body from the previous night.
After my shower, I get dressed into a faded blue sweat suit, then go into the kitchen. Before I cook, I wash some of the dishes left by my housemates. Afterward, I prepare you blueberry pancakes and two fried eggs.
I bring the plate over to you, “Sorry it’s not much. It’s all I had.”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I’m sorry I’m being hard on you. I’m not mad, I’m just being an asshole.”
“Try to eat, okay?”
“Dauhd, I’m not mad—“
“Just try to eat.”
I turn away from you and pick up my guitar from it’s stand in the corner of the room and sit crosslegged on the floor. I tune the strings. I struggle with one of the strings, closing my eyes and clenching my jaw to try to hear the right pitch.
“Here, let me see,” you say.
I carefully hand the guitar over to you and you tune the string perfectly within minutes.
“There.”
“Thank you.”
“Yep…you sound great, Dauhd. Win that thing tonight. You deserve it. We all do. We been watching you work for so long.”
“There’s no time limit on this, you know?”
“I get that.”
“Yeah…”
I start to play one of my songs, channeling my emotions as my fingers pluck the strings. Softly, I begin to hum the tune that goes with the notes. I feel a little nervous to sing in front of you, but I try to push through it. You eat slowly and watch me play. My phone rings.
“Yo, hello?”
“Big brother, Dauhd! I heard you performing tonight. You right on time, I got five hundo for the prize winna.”
“Hey, Sal. Yeah, I’m into it. I’ll see you tonight man.”
“You don’t sound like a man that’s about to come up on some money and possibly a record deal. What’s your dilemma?”
I glance over at you before going into the bathroom to finish the conversation.
“It’s a girl man. I think I’m in trouble.”
“Lady friend got too deep, huh?”
“Way too deep. I think I love her. I know I love her. She loves somebody else or at least she’s supposed to be marrying the guy.”
“That’s tough, playa. But look here: ain’t no woman gonna be able to tell you who you are. Only you can do that, ya hear?”
“I hear you. Thank you, Sal.”
“Get that guitar ready for tonight.”
“I’m on it.”
“Over and out!”
I chuckle, “Peace, man.”
I come back into the room and pull my clothing trunk from under my bed. I pull out the one suit I have for special occasions: A gray Armani, handed down to me by grandad before he passed. I wipe the dust off the shoulder before hanging it on the bathroom door. I run the shower on hot to let the steam iron out the wrinkles.
“So, what should I wear tonight?”
“You’ll look great in whatever you wear.”
Inside The Mind of a Black Artist 