SSS is back! I'm glad you all are enjoying Naomi's story! Please don't forget to comment and share this story with your friends. Let's see what Naomi has been up to!
******************************************************************************
I needed something to drown out the slow tap-tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap
of my fingers hitting the keyboard. I scanned my drive’s collection of music,
minimizing the screen so I could still see the Word document I was attempting
to complete. Still a third window to my right was also minimized in order for
me to respond to any urgent needs immediately via email. I hurriedly scrolled
up and down then back up with my mouse on the scroll bar. I repeated this a few
times then let out a loud, annoyed sigh that linger three second longer than
necessary. I closed the screen and clicked on the Google Chrome icon, navigated
to Pandora and settled with Amel Larrieux radio; calm, relaxed and still
thought-provoking music. I maximized the Word document and rolled my eyes at
the mere three sentences that were starring poignantly back at me. I sat back
in my chair so much so that its slight scoot from the wheels below jolted me
upright. I glanced at the clock. 3:53 p.m. I looked back at the screen again,
then once more at the time.
“Naomi!”
I was prompted out of my trance my Lydia Townes’ voice piercingly
saying my name.
“Why are you so loud?” I answered annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” Lydia started. “I called your name twice but
you didn’t respond.”
“Oh. Forgive me,” I said while looking down, pretending to straighten
my blouse. “What do you need?”
“Have you heard from Sonny? He said we would receive the
details regarding the grant funds on Wednesday. It’s Friday nearing 4 o’clock
and I have yet to hear from him. With our deadlines so tight, I was getting
anxious.”
“You haven’t heard from him yet? You should have told me on Friday!” At this news I gave my
email and good look up and down to see if there was any unopened correspondence
I had missed. Sonny was a community leader in Columbus’ Near Eastside.
Precision was launching what I hoped to be an ongoing project to connect
reading and literacy to children and adults. Lydia had come on to run the
program. She had set up a team of volunteers for marketing purposes as well as
made various appearances to get people excited about the project. And Sonny,
provided us with the funds through his outreach organization called, Climb
Higher. We were planning to hold first session adults in need of literacy
outreach a week from today. In order to do so, we needed our curriculum
printed, bound and delivered. And in order to do that, we needed the allocated
funds. Something wasn't right.
I picked up the office phone to speed dial Sonny’s direct
line. I motioned to Lydia, holding up my pointer finger, crossing my arms in
anticipation of Sonny’s voice on the other line. When there was no answer, I
hung up and dialed it again. Still, no answer. I could feel Lydia’s eyes
watching me. I felt my temperature rise, anxiousness in my heart.
This must be what she
felt like before coming to my office.
This time I hand-dialed Climb Higher offices directly. No
one picked up there either. When I hung up, Lydia interjected.
“What should we do? We gave him a strict deadline of today,”
she said.
“I know,” I said while again checking my email, certain I
had missed something. I felt the silence again in the room before it had
actually happened. I wasn’t sure what else to say and needed a few moments to
think of something. But all I could here was Amel Larrieux’s piercing soprano
voice on the bridge of her romantic song “For Real,” shrilling at me. There
were so many screens up on my computer I couldn’t get to Pandora fast enough to
mute her voice before the song faded on its own.
“Can you swing over to Climb Higher?” I said.
“Now?” Lydia attempted to clarify.
“Yes, absolutely now,” I said.
“But Naomi, it’s already after 4 o’clock. By the time I get
there it will be close to 5,” she started. “And there’s traffic to consider
also.”
“Just go please,” I said. “I’m sure Sonny or someone else is
at the office who can explain and hand you the check.”
“Ok,” Lydia relented, throwing up her hands as she walked
out of my office.
“And keep trying to call him on your way,” I shouted. “And
call me when you get someone!”
I followed closely behind Lydia to close my office door. I
motioned to Monica, our receptionist to hold all of my phone calls. I kicked
off my heels and scurried back to my desk chair and let another loud sigh. With
one click I was back starring at the three sentences that had been haunting me
for weeks:
Thank you everyone. I’m
very honored and humbled that I have been selected for this inaugural award. I
am grateful for the opportunity to do what I do.
The previous draft had been two paragraphs long, written
from my heart. I wrote it the very evening I was informed that I was been
presented with the Young Trailblazer Award at the Columbus Black Leaders and
Legends ceremony. Troy had thought it too emotional.
“And you say ‘I’ too many times,” he had said, tossing the
paper down on his coffee table. I had printed out a copy to show him after
leaving my office.
“Well,” I chuckled. “It is
an award for me honey.”
“What’s this for again?” he asked.
“Well it’s for my work as a writer and publisher. But it’s
mainly for my activist work in the community. They’re giving out the award for
young people under 40 who maintain effectiveness in the community and business
worlds.”
“And they chose you,” Troy said.
I flinched at this statement. I couldn’t tell if it was a
question or a statement. If it was the former, I couldn’t tell if there was an
emphasis on the word you, or if my
emotions were delivering that message to my brain prematurely. My eyes
squinted.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“They chose you?”
Ok, yes. I was sure it was a question, with emphasis
delivered to the last word an effort to question my validity of my receiving of
the award.
“I mean you don’t have a PH.D.,” he continued. “You books
are not read by millions of people and honey you don’t make much money.”
“Yea, you’re right,” I said. “I don’t have any of those
things. Why should I get this award?”
I then rambled off two names of notable people in my same community, both under
40, both with higher degrees and even higher resources that were far more
deserving of such an award.
And so I deleted that eloquently written acceptance speech
and saved it for another time, another day. I saved it for another me in
another space in the future. I decided to write a more toned-down speech with
sprinkles of words like humble and modest with an underlying theme of undeserving.
And so, those three sentences were it since then.
But today was the day. The awards ceremony was tonight at 7
pm. My funder was MIA and Troy had not yet confirmed what time he was picking
me up to accompany me. In addition, there were still seven soft rings on my
computer that were continuously reminding me that I was late for some previous
deadline from days before. The incompleteness of
the speech had been weighing on me so heavily that I was putting off other
urgent matters. Procrastination was not normally my style. But the last few
weeks had gotten so unbalanced that I could not seem to get ahead. Still, I
mustered up the mental focus to type up a few more lines for tonight’s speech,
words I didn't mean or remember the moment I pressed send. I emailed to the
award director and hurried out of Precision Publishing at approximately 5:07 pm,
exactly 37 minutes after I had planned. I hadn't heard from Sonny or Lydia and
my cell phone had died.
My car was at Troy’s house while he was preparing to take it
to the mechanic this weekend. Columbus had a new car-sharing service I was
interested in. With this, I could get home from my office downtown to my side
of town in Olde Town East in less than 20 minutes. The car-sharing parking lot
was a 5 minute walk from my 2 bedroom condo. I was able to get a small charge on my phone
while driving but still wasn't able to reach Troy.
I still continued to get prepare myself for tonight. The
event was a black-tie gala. I had shopped around for weeks before
deciding on an all back, lace gown I found at a cute vintage shop downtown. It
was floor length with a plunging back line. I paired it with my favorite red heels I save for special occassions. When
I had gotten fully dressed and was ready to pull out my shoes, I realized that
Troy still had not called. By this time, my phone had gotten a full charge and
there were no missed calls, text messages or emails from him. I started to get
angry. It was now 6:02 pm. Award recipients had been asked to arrive at 6:30 pm
in order to be properly seated in designated areas and to be acknowledged according to the programs' order of events. All correspondence also
indicated that the ceremony would start on time. Troy knew all of this. I
called him again, hanging up and calling back again another four times until I told
myself to stop. My first indication was to leave without him. But I had no car.
The car-sharing service only took you so far within the city limits and the
awards ceremony was just outside of Columbus in a banquet hall in Westerville,
a suburb north of the city. A bus ride was out of the question. And I didn't do
taxis. So I waited.
When 7 pm rolled around my anger was swapped out for worry.
Could something have happened to him? Why wasn't he answering his phone? I
paced the floor in my gown and reapplied my red lipstick numerous times. I had
emailed Troy the night’s program so he could know how to plan should he be
running a little late. When the clock approached 7:30 pm, I
received a call from Lydia.
“Where are you? They’re starting awards!” she said in a
quiet but panicky voice. I could hear the speaker’s voice overpower our phone
conversation. I was allotted four tickets to the gala. I gave the other two
tickets to Lydia and her husband. Lydia had been instrumental with merging in
my community vision with my work in publishing and so it seemed fitting
that she be there to see me accept the award.
“I’m waiting on Troy! I don’t know where he is and I don’t
have my car!” I told her.
“What? He’s not there yet?” Lydia said. “Why didn't you call
me? I could have come by to pick you up!”
I hadn't thought of that option and immediately felt
powerless. Before hanging up, Lydia said she would attempt to stall the order
of the awards but she wasn't sure if she would pull it off. I hung up the phone
even more enraged at Troy’s thoughtlessness. I called him another
countless amount of times before sulking into the couch in my living room. Followed
by tears, I threw my phone across the room.
It was 7:52 pm when Troy’s car pulled up in front of my
condo. I could see him from my position on my couch. By that time, I had
picked up my phone from the other side of the room and had saw three text
messages from Lydia:
I couldn't reach them
in time to move your award to another segment, sorry. They just called your
name.
They’ll try again for
you later. Hopefully you’ll be here soon?
Where are you??
Troy walked in, polished in his all black tuxedo, black
dress shirt and red bow tie. He had the nerve to smile, followed by one of the
most ridiculous questions anyone has ever asked me.
“You ready babe?”
I’ll always remember his tone when he asked that question: buttery,
soft and sure.
“Give me my key and get out,” I said.
He started to say something else but I lifted up my hand.
“Put my key on the table and leave.”
“What? You’re made ‘cause I’m late?” he started. “That
awards ceremony doesn't mean nothing honey. We can still go.”
I chuckled and shook my head.
“And that’s the problem” I said. “It doesn't mean anything
to you. You've embarrassed me for the last time Troy. Put my key that I gave you on
the table and get out. Please.”
And he did. Quietly and without incident he adjusted his key
ring so that my key loosened. He held it up in his hand to show it to me as
evidence and then laid it on the end table next to the couch that I’d made my
home for the last hour. He walked out the door without a goodbye.
But I knew tomorrow he’d call. Or perhaps, the next day. We had
been here before; a bad fight leading to a pseudo breakup that involved his key
on my coffee table and me slamming the door behind him. But today was different;
it was my epiphany. Similar to Chrisette Michelle’s lyrics, I had watched
myself become isolated, embarrassed and belittled. Troy was emotionless and
careless with my needs, desires and dreams. Life was hard enough and why should
I share it with him? An important night honoring me and my work and where was
I? Absent. I was alone in my home, unable to make a move, just waiting. Unable
to decide for myself, I needed him to decide for me. Life was in front of me,
and I was waiting for life to begin.
