We walk because he tells me to. The night around here is on the brink of chilly; the wind, our quiet companion, nips at the fabric of our attire. I’m wearing black; he sports a plain white shirt. We’re in the Financial District, because this is where he wants us to be. There’s nowhere to look but up in this city. We turn the corner and there is a Four Seasons tower on our left side. We strain and crane our necks, but the top of the building remains invisible to my eyes. We turn another corner, and a City National Bank beckons over us, greets us with neon lights in aqua blue. I smile because he is smiling; grinning at the excess of this corporate entity.
“You don’t know nothin’ about dis shit right here.” he announces.
I nod my head, because it’s true. This is my first night in Brickell, the Manhattan of Miami, on the last night of the year.
“It’s another world.” I confirm.
We walk toward the Metro mover station and climb up the stairs to the platform. We reach where the air is a different story, with a wind that whips its authority against our bodies. He opens his arms and I press myself against his torso, because the heat that rises from his skin orders me to. He wraps his arms around me and in this moment, he is the only weather I can feel.
“Why are you with me?” I ask.
There is nowhere to look but up into his eyes. He looks down at me, without a smile on his lips but his brown eyes are ready to play.
“Cuz’ you need a real nigga to show you what real love is,” he replies without a pause.
I hug him, because this is true. We board the train along with seventy- five other passengers, packed in tight inside of the tiny compartment. We find an empty corner and resume our position. I press my head against his chest, but my limbs stiffen with the awareness of others’ eyes on us. I see a pale, White woman with platinum hair and a red Gucci mini dress staring me down. Her charcoal rimmed eyes twinkle with amusement as she alternates glances between me and Marcus. I watch as she gestures to her two friends, one wearing a gold Chanel skirt and the other glittering in silver Prada sequins. The trio then looks at us and proceeds to snicker, no doubt due to the sight of Marcus’ tall, rippled physique holding my short, full frame.
“Dumb bitches.” I mutter.
Marcus chuckles. “What you mean dumb bitches?” he asks.
“The plastic bitches on the other side of the train”
He glances over at them and they wave at him.
“Yeah they plastic alright, they look good though.”
My face flushes, but the brown in my complexion conceals my weakness.
“So why don’t you go over there and talk to them? They look like they’re ready to get on their knees for you.”
Marcus laughs again.
“Stop hatin’.” he says.
He bends his face down and I meet his lips with mine. My weakness blooms into his kiss and I clutch his broad frame to keep my composure.
“Okay.” I mumble.
We reach our destination at the Bayside station. The night’s air is thick with anticipation and festivity. We walk towards Bayfront Park along with hundreds of others, families and friends, different races, different faces, all gathered to celebrate the penultimate occasion.
“You alright baby?”
Marcus links his fingers through mine, and I squeeze his hand, because a part of me isn’t sure this is all just an illusion.
“More than alright. More like amazing.”
I smile because he is smiling; a carefree beam aimed right into my eyes. I allow my shoulders to go limp, and Marcus drapes his arm around them, automatic.
“It’s 11:45. What you wanna do before midnight rolls in?”
I look around the darkness, through the confetti of people adorned with brand name jewels. The ocean rolls its inky waves in our direction.
“Can we just go by the water and talk?” I ask.
We shuffle through the bundle of excited spectators, knocking over a few on the way. We reach the water and he smiles, because I smile, an involuntary response for whenever I’m near a design by Mother Nature.
“So you never had nothing like this before huh?” he asks.
“Never in my life. I’m usually by myself. I’ll go to parties but no matter where it is, I’m always drinking rum and coke alone by the time the clock strikes twelve.”
I laugh at the skill to even make my favorite drink sound pathetic. Marcus just stares at me, and his eyes drill through the uncertainty in mine.
“Why?” he asks.
I sigh and look away from him.
“I guess I’m just shy.” I replied.
Marcus cups my chin and turns my head towards his own.
“You ain’t shy, you wouldn’t be with me if you were shy, so don’t give me that bullshit. Tell me the truth.”
“I honestly don’t know, I guess I feel stronger when I’m alone. I feel like I won’t lose myself when I’m by myself. I’ve always been like that. Maybe because I grew up with an overprotective father, he raised me not to trust anyone to the point of paranoia. So I spend most of my time alone. It seems safer that way.”
I look at Marcus. He’s gazing into the black sea, with an unreadable expression on his face. “What you doin’ with me then? You already know I’m a go-getter, I’m on the move all day and I need a woman who can ride by my side and be my Bonnie, you understand?”
I laugh, but he doesn’t laugh with me.
“That’s enough of a reason for me.” I reply.
“I think that’s exactly what I need right now, to be spontaneous, I wanna be a ride or die chick.”
This time he laughs.
“Naw, sweetheart, you a square, and you will always be a square.”
He leans over and kisses the top of my head.
“Always.”
I glance at my cell phone.
11:58pm.
“It’s about that time.” I remark.
Marcus grabs my hand.
“We got four minutes to make some goals babe. We been chillin for a few months now and I’m seein some things in you that I like. But if you gonna be with me, you gonna be my woman. You ain’t Daddy’s little girl no more alright?”
I nod, because his expression tells me to.
“Are you ready to be my woman?”
11:59pm.
The ocean sweeps its brine over our skins in a cold mist. The countdown begins at ten seconds. I scan the crowd of chanting partiers, each wearing similar expressions of anticipation. I wait for the annual tears to sneak from eyes, but they are dry. I look back to Marcus. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “Six! Say yes. Five! I should say no. Four! But the way he’s looking at me is pure temptation. Three! Being safe hasn’t taken you anywhere, has it? Two! Say yes. One!
“Yes.”
The future is now; fireworks crackle and coat the sky in red and gold. Our lips meet in a kiss, and I wrap my arms around his neck, easy.
“Bang! Bang!” The moment breaks with the sound of gunshots and screams. A familiar cloud of dread spirals throughout my stomach.
“Babe, what’s happening?” I ask. Marcus reaches for my hand.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” he replies.
I follow his lead, because warmth is blooming around my heart, and it dilutes the fear. We walk until we’re inside the Metro mover once again. The train is empty and we lean against the railing, wrapped into each other, silent.
“We almost got shot didn’t we?” I asked.
Marcus chuckles. He brushes my hair away from my shoulders and kisses my cheek.
“You really got no business being out here at this time of night, with someone like me; if you really think we was about to get shot. Remind me to never take you around Overtown.”
We reach the Government Center and we walk out of the Metro mover, hand in hand. The building is bustling with people, mostly couples who are making their way towards the Metrorail; arms linked and hands molded together, mirroring ours. There’s a synchronicity in the air, as if the slight buzz from the florescent lights above our heads were intertwining our limbs for us tonight.
“What you thinkin’ about?” Marcus asks me as we board the escalator.
The flutter in my heart answers his question before I do.
“You,” I respond.
“You’re changin’ your mind about me already?” he asks.
The train is delayed when we reach the railway. We find an empty section and sit down. I lean against him, because although a half hour has already disappeared from 2011, the concept of time vanishes completely whenever I touch his skin.
“Yes.” I reply.
The train comes to life. “Good morning passengers,” the train conductor’s voice crackles through the speakers. “I wish you all a very safe and Happy New Year’s. Our next stop Northbound is Historic/Overtown Lyric Theater.”
“I didn’t expect to be with you like this,” I admit. “I thought we would just be a hook up and then a goodbye. But it’s been two months and we’re just beginning.”
The city zooms behind us in layers of fuchsia and turquoise lights and I look out the window in silence.
Marcus kisses my forehead with soft lips but his chest stiffens. I gaze into the eyes which have kept me warm all night; that were now edged in sharp onyx coals.
“Goodbye ain’t an option for us, do you understand?” he says.
His voice is even, but tight and I wonder if I said something to offend him.
“Yeah, babe, I understand.”
I smile up at him, in hopes of softening the sudden transformation in his demeanor.
“You are my woman now, do you hear me?”
The black coals glow and he glares at me, as if challenging me to a rebuttal.
“Yes, Marcus.” I reply.
I lift my chin up to kiss him but he pulls his face back, the coals still simmering between us.
“Babe, are you okay?” I ask.
Marcus doesn’t take his eyes away from mine. In the pit of my stomach, the nub of fear materializes and pulses in a faint rhythm.
“You are mine.” he echoes.
His voice is ice now, a sliver of frost that cuts the air between us.
“I am yours, Marcus.” I repeat.
“I’m the only nigga in your life from now on.” he orders.
“You’re the only man I want in my life.” I assure him.
The frigid barrier between us is still thick. It dulls my senses, films my eyes, seizes my nostrils, and coats my tongue.
“This must be what passion feels like.” I think to myself.
We are in a silent tug of war with our eyes. I trace the outline of his lips, which is set in stone to match his eyes. I follow the caramel colored veins running along the brawn of his arms. I take in the smooth exterior of his hands, but notice their firmness, as if blocks of concrete replaced the bones underneath their suppleness.
I sigh.
“Yet you can have any woman in the world. I still don’t understand what you see in me.” I remark.
The block of concrete connects to my cheek simultaneously as the last syllable escapes my lips. The force is surreal, and spits me back into reality. I taste metal in the corner of my jaw but the rich crimson aftermath is nowhere to be found. I am in limbo, the in between where science meets faith, and where the heart challenges logic. I stare into my lover’s eyes for the last time as a void.
There is anger.
There is fear.
There is life, and it melts into the glint that reflects every facet of light that surrounds us.
“Being safe has never taken you anywhere” My future is now.
I lean against Marcus, reborn. He is silent and his skin sears with desire and authenticity. The ice between us evaporates. I raise my lips to his to taste the nectar of his intentions.
The sting in my cheek reverberates throughout my face, like the ring of a bell in church.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” I say, because faith tells me to.
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