And the Journey Continues

Comfort Zones and Karaoke

a short story

by

Chrystal D. White-Johnson

She knew she shouldn’t have come.

Any other time her family had gathered for karaoke night, she had politely declined.

Nobody expects anybody on karaoke night to open their mouths and Mariah, Whitney, Luther, or Marvin to come out, but she just didn’t do the whole singing-in-public thing.

In her shower, in her bedroom, in her car, hell yeah. She’d crank that shit up and do a frickin’ concert. But in a less private setting?

Only in a sleep-deprived, fever-induced nightmare.

But here she was, surrounded by family and a few of their friends she’d never met before, and everybody had to take a turn. Peer pressure was for high school. Not family gatherings where everybody was supposed to be having fun.

The sweat beading and making its way down her back and between her breasts was not fun. The pounding of her heart and racing of her pulse, definitely not fun. How close she felt to having a panic attack – not fucking fun.

She glanced around the room, taking note of everybody’s level of engagement and also, low key, mapping out her escape route.

I see you, Bren, her aunt Elaine said with a grin, drawing attention to her. There is no escape and resistance is futile.

Everybody laughed, and she managed to muster up a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes because she was thinking fmdl.

Keep her and Quin separated, one of Elaine’s daughters said. "He’s looking for a trap door or cloak of invisibility or something too."

More laughter, and Elaine’s coworker and bff’s son waggled his eyebrows at her, his eyes sparkling.

I’ll get one of the kids to create a distraction, she said. You go ahead and start easing for the door.

Everybody laughed again, including him, and she felt herself relax a little.

Sammy, Elaine said, looking at her husband, block all the exits.

More laughter.

Wow, Brenda said. I feel so threatened right now.

Still more laughter.

Guess that means you just gotta quit stallin’, grab that mic, and go for what you know, huh? Elaine’s son asked, his eyes lit with challenge and alcohol.

Suppose so, she said with a sigh. I mean, we’re all family, right? And this is supposed to be fun, right?

Though her voice and body language were light and teasing, Quinton could see the fire in her eyes. It struck him as odd (and strangely sad) that nobody else seemed to notice.

Just for this I’m gonna do a song nobody knows the words to, she said, lightening her own mood, which he saw too and wondered at.

Considering your taste in music, Sammy said with a grin, nobody’s surprised.

More laughter, including her own.

"Oooh! And you just gave me the perfect one, she said, grinning smugly and going to the machine to look for the track. OK. Haven’t felt much like singin’ for about two and a half weeks, so the pipes might be a bit rusty. But...here goes nothin’."

He recognized the song as soon as the first note came through the speakers. Bold choice.

He sent up a quick prayer for her and settled back to enjoy the show. About halfway through, he shifted his focus from her to the expressions on the faces of the people in the room and felt smugly pleased for her.

Baby girl could sing and apparently her nearest and dearest had had no clue. What did that say about them? What did that say about her?

So don’t you bring me down, mmm, today.

The last note hung in the air, and everybody was silent.

And then they broke into thunderous applause, and she smiled, curtsied, and went back to her seat.

"Not at all sure I should even try to follow that, he said, and she smiled at him as everybody else laughed, but...here we go."

Oh, I’ve heard you sing at work, Elaine said with a grin.

"Uh-huh. Kids’ songs. I could break down some Baby Shark, he said, and everybody laughed again. Oh well. It’s all fun, right?"

She grinned, and her eyes sparkled. And he decided which song he was going to do.

Since we aren’t doing ‘genre specific’ stuff, gonna do a song I like that isn’t necessarily...

So you have questionable taste in music too, huh? Sammy asked, and everybody laughed.

Brenda’ll get it, he said, winking at her, and she grinned. OK. Here we go.

He searched the listings, found the song he wanted, took a deep breath, and pressed the button.

As with him and her selection, she recognized it immediately and smiled. And also like him, she looked around to gauge reactions.

She swayed and hummed along. He noticed, of course. The room wasn’t that big, and she was making no effort to hide her obvious enjoyment. Exactly what it was she was enjoying though – the song itself, his rendition of it, or both – wasn’t completely clear, but it was epically encouraging and he may have been just a wee bit extra because of it.

At the song’s conclusion, it was she who started the applause, and he thought he might finally understand the appeal of groupies. He bent deeply at the waist, and several people laughed.

Wait! Elaine’s oldest daughter said as he started toward his seat. "You two should totally do a duet together. Well, an official duet since she just served as your backing track."

More laughter, and he was pleased to see she was amongst the amused.

Do you need a minute? Elaine’s daughter asked. Or...?

My refractory period is relatively short, he said, his face serious even when Brenda burst out laughing.

Sorry, she said, sounding sheepish but not looking at all contrite. Filter slipped. Don’t mind me.

He could tell from their expressions that most of them had missed the joke, and he was secretly really glad they had. It had, after all, been highly inappropriate. He had a naturally irreverent sense of humor, but he was generally able to control it.

Hm. Interesting.

Changing the subject..., she said, and a few people chuckled, what song should we do, then?

With the British accent, we might ought to go with Ed Sheeran.

But he’s a solo artist, one of her cousins protested.

Who remade one of his songs with Beyoncé as a duet, Brenda said, looking at Quinton.

Sounds like we’ve got our song, he said, and she laughed.

Oh, Queen Bey, please forgive me for the atrocity I’m about to commit in thy name, she said, eliciting more laughter.

Her immediate family members were used to her humor, but many of her extendeds found themselves pleasantly surprised. She was always so stoic and serious and guarded. Tonight was the loosest they had ever seen her, and they all found themselves wanting to get to know this Brenda.

Sooo glad you’ve got the first verse, she said, and he chuckled as he searched for the track.

OK. Is everybody ready for some karaoke magic? he asked.

"Oh, Lord, don’t give it that much build up. I know you will, but I might not be able to deliver."

Chuckles and laughter.

"Oh, I’m not at all worried about either of our delivery, he said, pressing the button before she could respond and starting to sing. I found a love..."

She swayed and nodded, moved by the richness and quality of his voice, knowing she would always hear it whenever she listened to the song in the future.

Did she want him inextricably tied to one of her absolute favorite songs?

He neared the end of his part, and she swallowed and cleared her throat quietly, anxiously preparing for her part. Violins surged, and she took a deep breath.

"Well, I found a man..."

He was lost. Utterly and completely lost. In her voice. In the lyrics. In her eyes. In the moment.

He wanted to hold her, to simply touch her, and the urge, the need was overwhelming because it was so completely unexpected.

As the song neared its end, they turned to face each other and achieved some pretty epic harmonies. She took the next to the last line, he the last.

And then it was over.

Well...the song anyway.

She had started drowning in his eyes, sinking and making no effort to save herself, and then the room erupted into applause and she quickly came back to herself.

Her awakening triggered his, and he found himself more than a little bit shaken.

They returned to their seats, and her cousin suggested they do duets. The suggestion was met with enthusiasm, and people started pairing off, some with spouses, others with siblings.

Brenda picked up her water bottle and drank deeply.

It was one night, a chance encounter, nothing more, nothing less. That he could touch her soul and move her so deeply with his voice, that singing with him had been more intimate than her last sexual encounter was her own deal.

Not his monkeys, not his circus.

She tuned out her thoughts and feelings, and tuned back in to her surroundings. Eminem. Perfect.

She bobbed her head and mouthed the words, losing herself in the music, the moment.

Two weeks later, Elaine and Quinton’s mom were on playground duty together. It was s chilly day but tolerable in the sun, so they had found a sunny spot, posted up, and started chatting.

"So Quin and I had the best time the other night, Donna Scott said with a bright smile. Thank you so much for inviting us."

"Well, I am very glad to hear that, and you’re very welcome. I’ll let you know when we have the next one."

I just may have to dust off my voice and do a lil sumthin-sumthin, Donna said, and Elaine chuckled.

"You so should. I don’t sing – in public or private – but it’s fun to listen to everybody else sing and hear their song choices."

"Song choices can get really interesting."

I think my niece may have opened a door a few more people may go through.

I noticed teasing about her musical tastes.

"She’s always been...different, I guess is the word, but not really in a bad way. More in a...nonconformist, go-her-own-way way. She was the one with white friends who were more than just her classmates or people she dealt with on a daily basis. They were her friends and she theirs."

Much different from how things were when we were in school.

"Yes. Heck, how things are in some places now."

Including here. Perfect example being the summer workshops.

"Exactly. Whites here, blacks all the way across the room and very few mixed-race tables."

"I don’t even know that it’s racist or even intentional, Elaine said, watching a group of boys – black, white, and Hispanic – playing football. I think it’s just..."

A natural gravitation toward ‘similar others’.

Brenda used to talk to us about stuff she was learning in her college classes, and she talked about ‘similar others’. I only remember because she joked that she finally had a scientific explanation for her friendship choices.

Donna chuckled, and Elaine smiled.

She had a pretty eclectic set of friends, and she could hang with anybody. But until she got to...high school, I guess, she...struggled with being with her ‘own kind’, so to speak.

I can relate to that.

Me too, but not to Brenda’s extent. The schools integrated when I was in middle school, so I had the opportunity to go to what we called the ‘white school’. I’m light-skinned and kind of...non-confrontational, laid back, quiet. I was also a pretty good athlete, so my skin color didn’t matter as much as the W’s.

Mmm, Donna said, nodding.

I can honestly get along with anybody.

If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.

Right.

Racism has always been kind of confusing to me. For a lot of reasons. But the most obvious is the fact that there are low-lifes in all races. Black people or non-whites don’t hold the monopoly on that.

"So true! But some white people think that the worst white person is better than the best black person, based only on the color of the skin."

Absolutely senseless.

"It is. Brenda says it’s a hold-over from slavery. In order to subjugate an entire race, you have to vilify them in order to justify and validate your actions. Some just can’t get past that and accept that the mentality and culture that bred it are archaic, antiquated, asinine, and erroneous."

Brenda is a very deep young lady.

She can be quite intense.

"Sounds like Quin. When other kids were playing, he was reading and asking his dad and me tons of questions, some of which we couldn’t answer."

Same with Brenda, Elaine said, nodding and smiling at the memory. She was asking questions we’d never considered, questioning things we’d never thought to question.

"Sounds a lot like Quin."

Hmm. Sounds like the grounds for the beginning of a potentially beautiful friendship, doesn’t it?

Yes. Yes, it does.

The bell rang and children swarmed from the playground to the designated line-up spot.

"And that sounds like our cue to get back to the grind."

Ugh. Bright side is, we’re already past the halfway point of the day.

"That is a very bright side. Have a great rest of the day, Mrs. Walker."

You too, Mrs. Scott.

The women grinned at each other before joining the swarm.

Quinton was also excited that the day was nearing its end. Not just the day but also the work week.

Hallelujah.

It had actually been a good week, work-wise. The kids had finally reached the point in the year where weekends didn’t completely throw off their routine and equilibrium, and they had accepted that their next break was still a few months away.

Then they’d have a full week for Thanksgiving, 2 full weeks for Christmas and New Year’s, one week for spring break, and several days sprinkled in here and there in between and after.

But it was only October. Probably shouldn’t be looking that far ahead or marking time based on time-until-next-break.

His students were surprisingly excited about Halloween. Surprisingly because his last few classes had been relatively unconcerned about getting dressed up and going scavenging for candy and treats while wearing costumes that reflected their interests at the moment.

It was kind of sad if you pondered it too deeply, especially if you added to that the cynicism and commercialism of Christmas. He wasn’t gonna quite go full-on Charlie Brown about it, but he was pretty damn close.

He wasn’t one of those back in my day people, but back in his day kids had just been kids, enjoying much more simple things and able to fully appreciate the magic of the season. Whatever season it might be.

That was it right there. In today’s world and society, there was too much information available about how and why things worked. There was no wonder, no imagination.

No magic,

The world in general needed more magic, and, very specifically, he could use some too.

His life had become predictably routine. That wasn’t a bad thing. For him, that was a good thing. A very good thing.

He thrived in routine and structure and predictability. And order. His sister and even some of his friends and coworkers often used words and phrases like anal, neat-freak, OCD, and stuck in his ways to describe him.

He wasn’t tripping. All of those things equaled stability and consistency to him. Both of which he believed to be highly underrated and completely essential to his sanity and functioning.

Things that should be very appealing to a woman but more often than not ended up being serious points of contention.

His mind went to Brenda Bartlett, and he smiled to himself.

She struck him as a kindred spirit, maybe even a little bit more anal than he, and he found that incredibly intriguing, very sexy, definitely worth exploring.

It wasn’t lost on him that they had connected. Neither did he think that was by accident or chance, though meeting someone at a party you went to with your mom because your dad was under the weather and she didn’t want to go alone does seem to be coincidental and completely random. But that wasn’t how it felt to him. To him, it felt like there was something else at play, something else in store.

After his long, self-imposed relationship hiatus, he was more than a little anxious to find out.

Now. If only he’d gotten her damn phone number.

WHY hadn’t she gotten his phone number or at least given him hers?

Why hadn’t he asked for hers?

Nope. She wasn’t even going there.

Nor was she going to ask his mom for it. Or have her aunt ask his mom for it.

She was just going to have to...figure something else out.

But not right now.

Right now she was gonna play a few Facebook games to wind down and go to bed.

She reached for her tablet, unlocked it, and settled in to play Candy Valley. She was in the middle of her third round when she noticed that she had a new friend request. Probably from the hacked/duplicated account of one of her friends. Might as well go ahead and delete it and move on with life.

She clicked on it, and her heart skipped several beats.

Thank you, Jesus.

She quickly clicked ‘accept’ and then went to his page. His cover photo was a group shot that seemed to have been taken at Christmas. There was a huge tree in the background, and a fire seemed to be at full flame in the fireplace whose mantel was covered with stockings.

A handsome couple she recognized as his parents sat in the center of a couch, and he stood directly behind them, his hands on his dad’s right and his mom’s left shoulders. Flanking all three of them were people she assumed to be his siblings, their spouses, and their children.

Wow. What a beautiful, happy-looking group of people.

How did a man who came from that manage to make it to his 30s? 40s? Without filling his own branch of the family tree? Given his position in the photo, he was at the very least the oldest, could possibly be the namesake.

No pressure there.

She had kind of gotten the impression the other night that he didn’t succumb to pressure, might possibly even be immune to it.

She clicked on it to enlarge it, her heart rate increasing as she stared at those eyes. Deep. Rich. Brown. Confident without cockiness or arrogance. Knowledge.

Power.

There was power there. Strength as well, but more potent was the power. The...the unapologetic masculinity and maleness.

Wow.

She clicked the ‘like’ button and scrolled through his cover photos, which ranged from family photos to nature stills to famous quotes and everything in between.

She then clicked on his photos and was treated to more of the same. He had the most beautiful smile she thought she’d ever seen. Perfect white teeth, deep dimples, sparkles, mischief, or humor in his eyes. There were a few of him not smiling and looking quite serious and maybe a touch dangerous, at least intense.

Those made her blood heat.

She clicked on the message tab, opening a chat box. He had made the initial contact, which to her was just plain sexy. He wasn’t going to be a game-player.

Good.

So...hi.

Lol. Hi.

Wow. His light was on, but she had honestly not expected an immediate reply.

Definitely not playing games.

Been doin’ a little low-key investigating, getting to know my new Fb friend thru his photo gallery. You have a beautiful family.

LMAO. Was quite honesty doing the same thing, since your profile’s public, as I anxiously awaited your acceptance. Thank you. You have a beautiful family as well.

Thank you. Since we’re being honest...was also just wishing we’d exchanged phone numbers.

Me too!!! Thought about contacting you through school email, but if you’re anything like me you never check the dang thing.

Lol. I check my Gmail like most ppl check Insta or Twitter, but I don’t even remember the password to my school acct. It’s on a post-it on the Dec pg of my desk calendar.

LOLOL. I have a Gmail too. Had Yahoo, but Gmail’s features are much better.

Same and wholeheartedly agree.

OK. Think we’ve broken the ice enough yet?

Lmmfao. I think we may just have.

Awesome. So why did you become a teacher?

Wow. Not what I was expecting, but that’s OK b/c I like it. I’m a Taurus, by the way. Seriously tho. I think it’s a combo of continuing the fam business, so to speak. My mom and all of her sibs and my dad and one of his sis are all teachers, from preK to college profs. We were all encouraged to follow our own paths, and we have. My bro’s into computers. He can fix or install anything, and he’s written a couple of well-received software programs. My sister is a mental health counselor. She’s licensed to do agency and school, but right now she’s doing agency. She keeps threatening to do school, and I think as her kids age she just might make the switch, if for no other reasons than to be part of the school system they’re in and to ensure joint break times without having to beg, borrow, and steal to be permitted to take off. As for why I chose teaching over either of those things or any others...It boils down to 2 things: growing up surrounded by teachers and having some really shitty ones thruout my schooling. Some were simply beyond their prime, but a few never should’ve been licensed in the first place. I LOVED school as a child, and teaching permits me to relive that experience while also providing it for others. OK. That’s the short answer =D =D =D Your turn.

LMFAO. Very good answer and a very encouraging 1 as well. Like you, I had teachers in the fam and experienced a few shitty 1s in the classroom as well. I also didn’t feel there was enough male representation, especially in the lower grades. I didn’t have my 1st male teacher ’til I was in 7th grade, and he was so frickin’ awesome lol. Not just b/c he was a ‘similar other’, but also b/c he knew the material and he actually taught it. And he made sure we got it b/f we moved on. But the best thing to me tho was that he wasn’t a coach or a hx or math tchr or any of the typical guy subject tchrs. He taught English. ADVANCED English. He had a few reg classes as well, and I don’t think I have ever heard a bad word spoken about him. That is saying A LOT, given the nature of our business.

Indeed, it is. And I really like your answer. Makes me feel like I know you that much better & have more explanation for why I felt instantly connected to you.

You felt that too, huh? Thank God.

Indeed.

So shall we stay up like teenagers, talking into the wee hrs, discussing monumental things of epic proportions, sharing profound truths, and getting to know 1 another even better?

=D =D =D Indeed, we shall.

=D

But I suggest we switch from txt to talk.

Excellent suggestion. Cuz a brutha really wanna hear yo voice, girl.

OMG, you just made me spit water everywhere!! LOLOLOL

=D Kmmfsl. Um...sorry?

Lol. No, you’re not, but that’s cool. Cuz a sustah tryna hear yo voice too, boy.

Bwahahahaha.

=D

When her tablet rang, indicating a video chat request, she grinned and answered.

Seeing your pretty face in real time is a good thing too, she said, and he chuckled and blushed a little.

"Exactly, he replied, making her smile and blush too. Damn it’s good to see you."

It’s good to see you as well. Modern technology, huh?

If we’d had the capabilities when we were teenagers, I don’t think many of us would’ve gotten much sleep.

Omg! I know, right? she said, shaking her head at the thought. "Would’ve made for way more honesty on some of those conversations if you fell asleep [laughter]. Damn baby girl snores like a hibernating bear [more laughter]. Or. I know this dude does NOT drool in his sleep [snorted laughter, which caused her to chuckle]."

"Shit would’ve gotten very real."

"Probably as real as me getting completely dressed – sometimes with full makeup – to talk to my crush on the phone."

You did not.

I did so, she said, shaking her head at the memory and at herself. "And the irony of that, besides, of course, the obvious, was that he wasn’t interested in me so much as he was interested in the answers to out calc homework."

Wow.

"Yeah, but I spun that crap to make me feel good. You know how females were always spouting on about wanting to be appreciated and respected for their minds and not lusted after because of their bodies? Ba-bam. I had the appreciation and respect of the hottest boy in the senior class."

He threw his head back and laughed and she chuckled ruefully.

Yay, me, she said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

And where is the math-deficient hot boy now?

"Um...Weirdly enough, we’re Facebook friends, so I can answer that question. He’s here in town, has been for a few years now. He’s currently on wife number three and still thinks he’s an 18-year-old superstar, when in reality, he’s a fat, balding 40-year-old who lacks the ability to maintain real, adult relationships and human connections, and four of his seven children are being raised by other men because he can’t accept that he’s no longer captain of the football team and his cheerleader girlfriend is now some CEO’s trophy wife."

Dayum.

"Yeah. People put their whole lives out there on social media for public consumption."

You don’t.

"Anymore. There was a time when I was an over-sharer. Most of the time when people grow up or evolve or find God, they go back and delete posts that don’t suit or fit with their current selves and best lives. I am who I am. I’ve posted stuff that I’ve looked back on when I’m out of the situation or no longer associate with the person or people who ‘inspired’ the post, and I’m like that meme of Jean-Luc Picard with his hand over his heart and the caption saying something like Oh, honey, no! What were you thinking? When you go back and read posts from before your spiritual awakening."

He threw his head back and laughed, and she grinned.

"Yeah...But it was who I was and what I was feeling...and I may still even be able to relate a little, even though the evolved school marm can’t use words like those anymore [more laughter]. One of the main things I’m finally learning is that it is beyond OK to be me and that nobody else really has to like that or me, so long as I am good with it and with me. Dude. The struggle to get to that point has been lengthy and real."

I kinda gathered that the other night, he said, sad to see some of the light leave her eyes. "You shocked the absolute hell out of some people."

Myself included, she said with a chuckle. "I have always, always wanted to sing. Growing up, I was shy and wasn’t one of the ‘known’ or recognized singers so I was never even considered for lead parts in the church choir. The one time I tried, I was so nervous and felt so much pressure...and disdain...that I sounded horrible. It was never an issue after that."

She was smiling, but he could still see the hurt in her eyes. His heart ached for her, even as he longed to hold her.

Before the other night, the only people to hear me sing have been my students, and they’re listening to the words, not the voice.

The other night, I listened to both, he said with a soft smile. "I took a few psych classes in college [she grinned], and I’m thinking it’s pretty safe to say your family did too. And some of them actually heard you for the first time."

"Yes. But were they listening?"

"Only time will tell on that one, baby girl, but if I had to say yes or no, I’d say yes."

She nodded, mulling his words over.

So, he said, his grin alerting her that he was about to lighten the mood, what’re we gonna do for an encore?

She laughed, told him to let her think about it some, and changed the subject.

The school year ended, and they had the summer stretched promisingly before them. They had opted to take things slowly, mostly because the urge to rush was so strong. For both of them.

If they were going to build something solid – and they very well seemed to be – it wouldn’t do to rush the foundation.

They’d seen so many people build ornate and intricate relationships on hastily laid foundations, leaving them with uninhabitable structures or buildings that collapsed because the foundations weren’t strong enough to hold them.

She wanted so much more than that with Quinton, for the 2 of them, and he did as well. Yet another reason that she knew she had found her soul mate.

Being soul mates, to her mind, meant they’d already been together in previous lives and would eventually find their way to each other in any future ones for eternity. You can kind of chill when you’ve got eternity.

So they were able to do things most couples she knew hadn’t or couldn’t, including cultivating and maintaining true intimacy. Not just physical intimacy (because they honestly hadn’t even gone there yet), but mental, emotional, and spiritual intimacy. The kind where they could communicate without words. The kind where they became each other’s go-to. The kind where they could lay side-by-side or intimately entwined all night long and even make out without either feeling the pressure to go all the way.

Hell yeah, they wanted each other, and sometimes the heavy petting got intense, but one, the other, or both always managed to pull back before they got to the point of no return and they were quite pleased with themselves.

They often joked that they needed to get Alexa and have her on standby their first night in case an ambulance was needed, but they were...in agreement and at peace with their decision to wait.

So summer rolled around, and they spent most of June in bed. Literally. The prospect of sleeping with no alarms set and next to each other was too enticing to pass up. Their pre-school workshops would start in mid-July. They could skip them but were opting to begin grabbing (free) CEUs at the first available opportunity rather than waiting until right before school started. Both of them had made that mistake as rookies, and both of them had had to scramble to meet their licensure requirements, even having to travel to the national convention in D.C. to make sure they were covered.

The convention is held in a different major city every year (this year’s locale was Dallas), and they were both quite surprised to find out that they had been in D.C. and had stayed at the same hotel.

Their paths hadn’t crossed once.

Guess it just hadn’t been time.

She had initially gone to the conventions, honestly for the CEUs. She could get them all over the course of three days, most times partially, mostly, or completely at her employer’s expense. She got to travel and visit/see places she ordinarily wouldn’t have even considered going, and she got to learn stuff.

Pretty frickin’ sweet deal.

And this year, she’d be traveling with a fellow nerd, who also happened to be her man.

Even better.

But first, they lazed and rejuvenated and got ready for 4th of July gatherings.

Both of their families observed/celebrated most holidays. And birthdays. In his family, birthdays were akin to an individual Christmas. In her family, they had stopped celebrating most birthdays as a group (her great-grandparents’ and grandparents’ were the only exceptions until a divorced cousin whose ex had always made a big deal out of her birthday had suggested that they start celebrating again, kids and adults).

She was good celebrating hers or ignoring it altogether. Hitting the mid-30 mark had done something to her internally, and she had become something of a birthday scrooge. Birthdays were unnecessary and unwanted reminders that she was very likely going to die alone. Nobody needs to celebrate or draw attention to that.

Anyway. Fourth of July. They decided to spend the day with her family, the night with his, which meant going to their cabin on the lake and watching the fireworks show.

Gotta admit, she was all in for fireworks, water, and his family. Was more than a little meh about the day with hers. Once again, there would be karaoke.

Life and jobs and responsibilities and family discord had kind of put the kibosh on weekend karaoke, and they hadn’t had any chances, beyond car trips, to sing together. So that was something she was actually looking forward to.

What a difference a few months and a relationship status change can make.

Quinton seemed unusually amped too, so that was interesting but not really given much thought.

It was probably just the double family gatherings. He really looked forward to being at a gathering that included either of their family members. Getting to do 2 in 1 day that included most of both was epically awesome.

She glanced over at him, his profile making her belly quiver.

Damn, he is so beautiful.

Did NOT realize she had spoken her thought aloud until he looked at her and blushed.

Thank you, he said with a soft smile. As are you.

Thank you, she replied, surprised that she felt no need to downplay, joke away, or deflect.

He reached over, took her hand in his, laced their fingers, and turned his attention back to the road.

She reached over with her free hand and switched on the radio, Eminem’s ire and venom spewing forth and filling the car. She turned to him and raised her eyebrow.

Cashier at Walmart pissed me off a coupla days ago, he said with a shrug.

Ah, I replied with complete understanding.

"Yeah...So rather than destroying public property or cussin’ out somebody who’s probably just barely making ends meet while her sorry boyfriend or babydaddy sits on his ass playing Fortnite, I was overly nice to her. Didn’t change her attitude, but it sure changed mine."

I hear that. Sometimes it’s not about anybody but the other person, and we get the side bennies.

"So, so true. But, I will admit, I needed a little...pressure relief."

"A song with Bitch, Ima kill you in the chorus will do it every time," she said with a straight face.

Yes, he said, nodding, his expression serious. Yes, it will.

OK. Let’s go with something a little...um...

"Less?" he supplied with a wry grin.

Yes. Let’s warm up our pipes because you know the karaoke machine will be front and center.

Indeed. OK. So... She looked at the CD holder above her visor. Hm...Ooh! Got it.

Oh my. Why am I suddenly a little frightened?

Because you know mw, she said, ejecting Eminem. Just a warm up, but I think it’s completely appropriate.

She slid the CD in, waited until it loaded, and then hit the back button to cue up the last track. When the opening notes started, he grinned.

"Think you may have just found our duet."

I’m thinking so.

They both cleared their throats.

OK. Now that we’re all good and full, Elaine said, eliciting chuckles and grunts of agreement. It’s karaoke time!

Who’s going first? Brenda’s mom asked.

The hostess should get the first go, Brenda said, and everybody laughed.

Not on a boat with a goat drinking a float, Elaine said, and they all laughed again.

"Figured you were gonna say that, her son said with a grin. Which is why the first song’s gonna be like a congregational hymn."

They all laughed again, right as the doorbell rang.

I’ll get it, Elaine said. Sammy, go grab a few more chairs.

They grinned at each other, and both set off on their separate tasks. There was an awful lot of grinning going on today. Oh well. It was a helluva lot better than the alternative, so she’d go with it.

Y’all are just in time for the opening song, Sammy said, looking at the doorway as Elaine arrived with the newcomers. Y’all help yourselves to whatever you may want. Everything’s on the stove.

Brenda turned casually, just to see who else she’d have to psych herself up to sing in front of and gasped when she saw Quinton’s entire immediate family and their extendeds trouping in behind Elaine.

Oh, wow, you guys! she exclaimed as she jumped up and rushed toward them. What an awesome surprise!

Well, the invitation included three of our favorite things – you, karaoke, and grilled meat.

They all laughed, and Quinton and she took turns hugging them all. By the time they finished, her uncle and cousins had gotten all of the extra chairs set up around where the couple had been sitting, so they all headed over and took their seats.

OK, cuz, she said. You were saying something about a congregational hymn.

They all laughed again.

"Since Mama won’t sing anywhere but her bedroom when she’s home alone or maybe in her car on her way to or from work, we decided to do a group song that she might join in on."

"It’s gonna have to be quite a song to make even that happen," Elaine said, eliciting more laughter.

It is, her oldest daughter said with a grin. And that’s why we chose it. Are y’all ready?

There was a chorus of affirmative answers, and then her aunt’s children, children-in-law, and husband took the stage.

Her male cousin started things off, and she swore with the first five words she felt chills.

Never would have made it.

A few years back, her aunt had been diagnosed with cancer. When it was discovered, there had only been a small mass in her stomach. By the time she’d made it to a treatment center several hours away for chemo, the doctors had determined that she would need surgery as well.

She flat-lined twice while on the table and lapsed into a coma. They got all of the detected masses, but there was no guarantee she would survive the surgery.

Well, very long story incredibly short, she made it. And the doctors were stunned. The day she was released to go home, a gospel artist released his biggest hit to date, and it became like her theme song. It most certainly was her go-to song, regardless of the situation but especially in times of trouble or unrest.

Brenda figured a lot – if not most or all – people have their own go-to song. That one song that as soon as the first notes come through the speakers, they feel like, OK. This is gonna be OK or I can do this or I got this or whatever and they can keep on pushing just a little while longer. She had had several over the years, but her two at that time were Mariah Carey’s Through the Rain and Alicia Keys’ Girl On Fire, depending on what was going on at the moment.

She had a few others, but Quentin had learned that anytime he heard her playing either one of those it was gonna be a hold-her-close-and-say-very-little kinda night.

Thank God those days were few and very far between.

Well, anyway. Elaine stood up on shaky legs, walked over to her family, and started singing too. Not lip-syncing but actually singing.

Brenda couldn’t damn help it. She cried. And when she looked around, there was not a single dry eye and there were quite a few wet cheeks besides her own.

When they finished, they were given a standing ovation, and she had never been more proud of her family than she was in that moment.

"Now that’s how you start a karaoke party," Mrs. Scott said, and they all laughed and nodded their agreement.

They had the best time. There was so much laughing and revelry, Brenda knew she was probably going to have to pop some Excedrin on the drive home.

Brenda, Elaine said, her eyes sparkling, "you have been very quiet today. Don’t we even get one song?"

Everybody laughed and began encouraging and cajoling, and Quentin turned to her.

You ready to do this? he asked.

She took a deep gulp from her water bottle, draining its contents and replacing the lid.

Nope, but let’s do it anyway, she said, and the people closest to them laughed.

They both stood and walked to the ‘stage’, where her aunt handed them each a mic before grinning at Quentin and going back to her seat.

We’re gonna reverse the parts, OK? he said, and she shrugged.

Um, sure?

I’ll take the first verse, you take the second, and then we’ll do the rest together.

OK.

He nodded to Brenda’s cousin, who pressed the play button, the song already obviously cued.

Mmkay. He was up to something, and others were in on it.

Hmm...

The title and artists popped on the screen, and she felt her heart melt as she read.

Mariah Carey, Joe & 98 Degrees, Thank God I Found You

"Oh, that is a boss choice," she said, and he chuckled.

Thought you might like it. Now listen carefully.

And then he started to sing, and she knew she would never hear that song the same way again either.

She joined him for the chorus and then took the second verse. She honestly, low key forgot they had an audience. His eyes...They were all she could see. They did the chorus and then launched into the rest.

As the last note hung in the air, he lowered himself to both knees in front of her, and she gasped into her mic.

Sooooo, he said into his. Hi.

Everybody, including her, laughed, and she shook her head even as tears welled in her eyes.

"Once upon a time, there were 2 teachers, a man and a woman, who worked in the same district but had never met before because they worked in 2 different buildings. One day the man’s mother told him she’d been invited to a friend’s karaoke night and asked him to be her plus one. He had already made firm plans of shower, pizza and Buffalo wings, and the Forensics Files marathon because they were finally airing some new episodes [chuckles]. His dad wasn’t feeling well, and he knew his mom wouldn’t go alone, so he got up and showered, figuring he’d go, maybe sing a song if she insisted [more chuckles], and then be home by the time the second airing of the marathon started. He had no idea that that would be the best decision he’d ever made.

"The next best decision he’d ever made was to send the amazing, beautiful young lady he’d met that night an inbox message because he’d dang forgotten to get her phone number [laughter]. They messaged back and forth until she suggested they video chat. The conversation started at 8:30 and ended at 8:30."

We did a whole shift, dude, she said, and he threw his head back and laughed as several people laughed with him.

Nobody else I’d rather do shift work with, he said, his eyes suddenly serious.

Same, she said softly.

When I was little, I prayed for a woman like my mama. Strong. Smart. Loving. Beautiful. Someone who would always be there for me and who made me feel...who made me feel the way my daddy looked every time she smiled at him. He smiled as her eyes flooded with tears. "Yep. Kinda like that. As I got older, I got a little more...um...specific in my requests, and I asked that she also understand me – what motivates me and drives me, what irritates and frustrates me, what angers and saddens me. Not so she could use them against me later, but so she could help me. If possible, I wanted us to share at least some of those things, enough of those things that we could work together, rather than separately or against each other. I also asked that she be beautiful, outside sure, but most definitely inside because physical beauty fades and diminishes, but inner beauty endures, intensifies, persists.

I was honestly...not necessarily giving up so much as living in quiet expectation. I knew He would answer my prayers, and I prayed the same one every night. And then, 30 years after I prayed it the first time, He answered it at my mom’s friend’s karaoke night.

She grinned, even as a tear fell from her eye to his face. She reached down and wiped it away, and his smile was brilliant, his own eyes wet.

"Before I met you, I really didn’t know what it was to smile from my heart, to savor each second, to...feel so intensely. The exact moment our voices joined and blended, I knew. I knew you were His answer. Just didn’t dang know how to go about getting you [chuckles, including her own]. And then it hit me. Facebook."

He whispered the site’s name, and they all laughed.

"The best thing I ever did was pray that prayer and wait for it to be answered. The second best thing I did was agree to be my mom’s plus one [chuckles]. The third was getting to know you and getting to have you in my life. Now, for the fourth. Asking you to share that life, to blend our 2 separate existences into one, to be my permanent plus one. So...whatchu say, boo? If I asked, would you say I do?"

Ask and see, she said cheekily, and he laughed as everybody else seemed to lean forward and hold their breath.

Brenda, will you marry me?

Yes, Quentin, I will.

And, as their family members burst into raucous applause and catcalls, he slid the most gorgeous piece of jewelry she had ever seen onto her finger, kissed both the ring and her finger, and sprang to his feet. As he kissed her to seal the deal, she heard a strange fluttering.

She opened her eyes and gasped into his mouth. He smiled against hers before pulling back.

Each of the kids had been given a balloon bouquet – 1 red heart, 1 white cloud, and 1 blue star – and they lifted their hands, balloons fluttering loudly in the breeze, and released them.

Every day for the rest of our lives, he said, drawing her attention back to him, you will have my unconditional, deep abiding love, your life will be peaceful and easy, and I will fulfill your every wish, desire, and dream. You need only tell me what you want.

You, for the rest of my life, that’s all I want, all I need. Oh wait. And a few babies too.

He threw his head back and laughed, and she laughed with him, excited beyond reason, happy beyond her wildest imaginings, blessed beyond measure.

So incredibly grateful she stepped out of her comfort zone and up to that mic.

The end...and only the beginning...

(01/05/2019, Sat. @ 12:52a)

Promises Made, Promises Kept

-a short story –

by

Chrystal D. White-Johnson

He woke with a start, when his body jerked from reclining to bolt upright.

Damn he had been having the most nightmares lately.

He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and flopped back down with a heavy sigh.

Lord, he said, staring straight up at the ceiling, I honestly believe you’re trying to show or tell me something, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what. You don’t even necessarily have to show or tell me exactly what it is. Just please give me a sign or something.

Silence.

He sighed and flopped back, frustrated and not sure what else to do. It was times like these when he missed Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Simpson most. She was always willing to listen and help him through whatever was going on, major or minor, and he never had to worry about hearing anything he said to her from anybody else.

She took her counseling ‘vows’ seriously, her friendships even moreso.

He absently rubbed at the ache in his chest and closed his eyes.

He used to see her status updates and online activity all the time, but there hadn’t been any lately. This thought caused the ache to intensify and his frown to deepen.

He’d heard she’d been sick…

Again, the pain intensified.

Lord, is something wrong with Lizzie?

The pain eased.

Lord, what would you have me do?

Silence.

He sighed again and just lay there, indulging in the urge, the need really, to think about her.

He really tried to not think about her

Once seemingly unable to get through a day without some form of communication, they’d gone from vowing to keep in touch after she’d been mercilessly and senselessly fired from the outpatient mental health agency where they’d worked together to frequent calls and texts to fewer calls but regular texts to occasional texts to silence.

He rubbed absently at the pain in his chest.

There had been a period of deep disenchantment following her termination, mostly from him because his own stepfather had played a major role in the decision and its execution. When the only person in a company who was there for all the right reasons and gave her entire self to said company, could just be thrown away by said company like week-old leftovers…It had made everybody, himself included, question the security of their positions. A couple had left of their own volition, but some others had been fired as well.

He’d left on his own. He’d given finishing college as his excuse, and he had gone back and gotten his degree and counseling license to boot. But, if he was totally honest – and he generally tried to be, especially with himself – he’d made a preemptive strike. Leave before he could be kicked.

Getting another job wouldn’t be a problem. He was a white male. Period. But he was also a white male with a counseling license who also happened to be related to one of the most well-known men in the field in the state. If he couldn’t get by on merit, he could always fall back on nepotism, the good-ol’-boy system, or some other such fuckery.

But that wasn’t who he was or had any desire to be.

Which was one of the reasons he’d left.

She’d been another.

He’d never forget the look she’d given him after hugging him goodbye. Or what she’d said.

Well, I guess this is goodbye.

Not goodbye. Just…we no longer get to see each other everyday in a professional capacity.

God, I’m gonna miss you so much!

Hey, now. Don’t cry. We’ll see each other again. And when we can’t see each other, we’ll talk or text or inbox. The job has ended; not our friendship.

But don’t you see? Our friendship began and blossomed because of the job.

But the bond you and I share goes much deeper than that, Lizzie, and you know it.

I also know what experience has taught me. We’ll start out with excellent intentions, and we’ll do really well at first. But then I’ll get a new job. One or both of us will start a new relationship that will replace oxygen on our list of basic needs. Something will happen, and we’ll talk less and less, until we just don’t talk anymore.

Lizzie, it doesn’t have to be that way.

No, but it most likely will be. This ain’t my first rodeo, Zach. Everybody vows to keep in touch, but in the end, one day, for whatever reason or reasons, you just lose touch. And all that remains are memories and tons of regret. And maybe a little resentment because if you really meant to each other what you said you did, you wouldn’t lose touch because you couldn’t.

I’m not gonna lose touch with you because I can’t lose touch with you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, the only one who didn’t laugh when I told you I wanted to go back to school and why, the only one who’s had my back from day fuckin’ one. When you find an unopened treasure chest, filled with rare and precious gems and gold, you don’t…Why are you crying?

Because I can’t bear the thought of no longer having you in my life. Not getting to see you at least every other day or having you make me laugh when all I want to do is curl up and cry, not getting random hugs to pull me back together right at the moment I’m absolutely certain I’m gonna fall apart. I don’t want to lose you…

You won’t.

But I will.

No.

But in the meantime, I’m gonna hold on as tightly as I can for as long as I can.

He’d grabbed her and held her close, both clinging and crying.

I loved my job, and I loved the work I was able to do. But I’ll miss you most of all. No matter what time or distance does to us, think of me sometimes, and know that wherever either of us is, I love and miss you.

I love and miss you too, he said softly. Wherever the hell you are. I love and miss you, Lizzie.

Of course, there was no response. Could be no response. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair, yanking a little before dropping his hands into his lap.

He seemed to miss her most on Fridays, when they often found themselves the only ones in the office, everybody else having left hours before. It had become almost a standing ‘date,’ for them to end their Fridays at the office, doing paperwork, laughing, discussing joint clients, sharing funny anecdotes, seeking advice/suggestions. Already his favorite therapist, she’d also become one of his best friends.

And he missed her like an amputated limb.

He was learning to live and function without her, but there were times he forgot and tried to use the missing limb…or it ached.

He sighed deeply, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Hey, Work Husband.

Hey, Work Wife.

How was your day?

’bout like my dick, long and hard.

She’d laughed and pulled herself up on the desk beside him, crossing her jeans-clad legs at the ankles and swinging them, sending out clouds of vanilla fragrance.

Hey, my day was like your dick then too.

Gotta spread it around. Can’t keep all this length and hardness to myself.

She’d thrown her head back and let out a full-on laugh. The joy in the gesture, in the sound, had loosened something in him, and he’d laughed too.

Never thought I’d ever say this, like ever, but I’m gonna need you to keep your length and hardness to your damn self. Sometimes, I just want it nice and easy, and to roll over and drift peacefully to sleep.

Shit, you and me both. Men want some love-makin’ too.

She’d laughed again, and he’d joined her.

Oh, Zach, I needed that laugh. How do you always know exactly what I need exactly when I need it?

Magic.

She’d laughed again.

Seriously though, usually when you need it I need the exact same thing at the exact same moment.

She’d nodded and begun swinging her feet again.

Hey, are you hungry? he’d asked suddenly.

Starving.

You skipped lunch again.

Statement, not question.

She’d merely looked at him.

Honey, how many times—

A million cuz I’m hard-headed, she’d cut him off.

Well, duh.

She’d laughed again before sobering and pinning him with serious eyes.

Please don’t be mad at me.

Darlin’, I’m not mad, he’d said, not quite sure how to take her tone. I’m just concerned is all. I care about you, and I don’t want you to get sick because you won’t take 10 minutes to eat a cheeseburger.

Her stomach growled, and he’d narrowed his eyes at her.

OK. That’s it, he’d said, standing and lifting her off the desk, cradling her in his arms and walking toward the door. You leave me no choice. We’re going in search of food.

She wasn’t sure which was more awesome – his concern for her or the fact that he could lift and carry her as easily as he might a newborn. She’d always dreamed of being swept off her…

Oh, hell no. Not going there. He was her friend. Admittedly one of the best she’d ever had. She wasn’t going to let her horniness or loneliness or whatever state of being she was in mess that up.

She’d wrapped her arms around his neck and tried hard not to swoon.

He was having a similar battle with himself. He’d been half in love with her since the day she’d walked into staffing, wearing that damn black pantsuit and daffodil yellow blouse, shoes, and accessories. Her hair had been pulled in a tight bun, and she’d been wearing a barely perceptible trace of makeup. He’d since seen her without any, and he personally believed her to be more beautiful without it.

She’d been frowning and nodding, totally engrossed in whatever their boss was saying, and then she’d burst out laughing. And he’d felt like the heavens had opened and