Page 29 of Call and Response

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As much asI probablyneededto be alone with my thoughts, it was about the last thing I wanted, which was how I found myself tucked into a corner at Urban Grind with my laptop.

Planning the nextHarmonies in the Heights.

Sick behavior.

With the amount of emotional turmoil the first had taken me through, it would atleastbe wise to take a few months—weeks, even—to let it marinate before putting all that stress in motion again.

But apparently, I thrived in chaos.

My little silent timer buzzed, reminding me to make sure I was still mentally connected to my task; I wasn’t, of course.

Ostensibly, I was planning an event, but the fourteen open tabs on my screen told another story.

There were three different notepad windows open—two of them holding unfinished lyrics for a client and one of my own. Another tab had a list of venue search results, and yet another had the neighborhood calendar open.

At leastthosewere actually getting me where I was supposedly going.

Three more tabs were email inboxes—personal, general business, and then the one that was very specific to clients.

The next set of three were writing specific—a tab for looking things up to make sure any metaphors or other literary devices made sense, a thesaurus one for when I couldn’t pull the word Iwantedto mind and had to use synonyms to find my way, and a dictionary one, to make sure the words I used meant what I thought they meant.

The last set of three was—embarrassingly—holding my attention the most.

An internet search aboutNoble Taylor.

The most recent news item.

His Instagram, which I hadn’t allowed myself to actually look at yet.

Shameful, I know.

Looking—like,really looking—into a manafteryou fucked him was definitely hustling backwards, but whatever.

I needed to understand what was happening.

Why thehellcould I not stop thinking about this man?

That wasn’t…me.

The boy crazy thing had never been my vibe.

I joked about being for the streets, but like…for real.As much as I enjoyed writing the lovey-dovey shit, seeing people I cared about enmeshed in it, as much as I loved the idea of it…

It had never been for me.

Just freaking… elusive.

Every boy—or girl—I’d tried to commit to in that way, I really did give the relationship my energy, my attention, did all the things you were supposed to do.

I wasgreatat making my partner happy, had even exchanged the requisite words.

Until I realized how unfair it was to do that when I wasn’treallyfeeling it.

Not on that level.

I liked them, very much, and the only variety of sex I was willing to have was good, so that was never an issue either. But people always wanted the progression,normalpeople wanted the progression.

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