"Liquid Courage"

In July, the land of the Geechie is always plagued with an abundance of traumatic life experience. Dashing through the tourist riddled, cobblestoned, city market pavement, reminded me of this native fact.The sweltering heat progressed my speed towards the overpriced restaurant. My nagging physical need for nourishment provoked me to be just a few minutes later than on time. Hunger was responsible for ensuring that I had not failed to attend this engagement. This marked a serious milestone for me. Fifteen minutes later than scheduled is more appealing than a no call/no show. If I was not guilty of being indecisive, then, I would have been a little more punctual. My lacking of respect for time, has been an inconvenience for some of my loved ones. Personally for me, it has never been a real problem. While sounding a little selfish, I am compelled to voice the God honest truth. I am never on time for anything.

A strong prediction, suggest that the probability of being late to my own funeral, is high. Respectfully, I accept my short comings as a woman. Strengthening my personal value of other’s concept of time, is a strenuous task. This too, is on my extensive list of corrective behaviors. As long as I give the sometimes, dishonest perception of caring, I feel as if I am doing my best. In my world this is all that really matters.

Perspiration, transpiring from the arch of my foot, drizzled down to the base of my toes. Constant friction between my six inch Jimmy Choo, bedazzled sandal and the pavement would be the root cause of this reaction. Still, I hurriedly skated towards the welcoming doors. Karma immediately greeted me at the entrance and Antartica slapped the fuck out of me. A combustion of stinging, but chilling sensation, permeated the stream of my blood. The weather enticed the culture shock of both, the inner and outer layers of my physique. Perplexity had temporary handicapped my movement. I was trying to decipher if these goosebumps were physical or spiritual. Some would call this Southern culture, other’s would call it intuition. My personal preference did not make a difference. Whatever, I considered it, did not dispute the presence of something strong. Personally, I was just ready to face it head on. The faster that I got this over with, the better.

Being ignorant to the true identity of my accompanying party warranted my text to the event coordinator. I was quite certain that she was awaiting this request. Common sense would have expected her to supply me with these resources from the very beginning. Her tyranny, manipulative, vindictive persona, misrepresents her methods of expressing deep unconditional love. It took a minute for me to gather my composure. After pondering on the proper texting grammar, I finally sent it to the dispatcher. ”WHAT IS THE FULL DESCRIPTION OF TODAYS EXPECTED PACKAGE?” The question was a concoction of sarcasm, annoyance and a repetitive lack of enthusiasm. Her response was borderline anger and agitation; however, it was simple. “Your Late!” As if I was not aware of this character trait of mine, I glanced at the Chanel J12 time calculator that draped my wrist. Fifteen minutes had magically metamorphosed into thirty-five. I payed that bit of knowledge no attention.

The seven Tequila shots prior to my departure from home evoked a delayed reaction. I failed to give the picture message a caring glance. Had I had not been seeing doubles, I would have giving the supposed to be object of affection one look and immediately exited the premisses! The tipsy part of me, just compliantly rambled off Juwann Shoemacher’s table to the host. She too, raised a brow at the harsh melodic name. Her customer service skills amazingly allowed her to disguise her humor as she led the way to my intuitive Hell. My presence has always been strong. It did not make a difference where I was, my aura was magically and magnetically compelling. The bloody orange satin BeBe gown that was painted to my curvaceous statue, attracted the attention of every patron in the facility. Immunity to public peripheral admirations of my outer appearance enabled me to strut the Green mile with natural style and grace.

Sensing my timely arrival, Juwann Shoemacher rose to greet his inopportune guest. Towering over me at a mere six feet, his hug resembled the effectiveness of a two foot, shallow grave. My insides cringed as a result of his subtle attempt of a sensual touch. Instantly, the vibration of his baritone voice irked my nerves. “Your late, was this an inconvenient time for you, next time I will be sure to schedule you at later time in the evening!” This was spoken with a familiar arrogance. He was just so sure that there would be a next time. I was positive that there would not be. Mr. Shoemacher failed to catch my drift or the devious snicker that escaped my lips. Selling his self shorter and shorter with every self upselling technique that he creatively recited had elevated me to another zone. Mentally, I checked out.

As if on Q, the waiter rescued me, with a beverage request. I had not even glanced at the menu. No longer, was my vision blurred. I settled on the three hundred dollar carafe of Duckhorn Three Palms Vineyard Merlot and the mint pan seared Lamb and Asparagus. Juwann’s conversation with self about self did not skip a beat. That is why his accounting degree was momentarily non existent. Surely, he was destined to have a conniption fit when awareness set in. I had ordered a four hundred dollar meal and it was on his dime. I did not even bring my wallet. Most men would have been so attentive to my order that he would have scanned the menu to estimate the value of this meal and conversation. This dude lacked a mute button. My mental blockage routinely responded with a head nod and facetious smile. The fact that his self absorbent vanity came so matter of factly, confirmed my predictions. Juwann Shoemacher was a partner at her firm.

My sister, the orchestrator of this blind date, never ceased to amaze me. She was on a quest for her ideal brother in-law. Her choice in taste was similar to that of her own husband’s. Stiff and wealthy was appealing to her. As long as she could push her Cheyenne Porsche and swipe her black card she was satisfied. She did not care if their character lacked substance. Everyone knew that I was a little rough around the edges. Thirty years my senior, one would have expected that she would have known better. My sister was very ambitious. It was sad to say but, her cotillion ways did not align with my gangster tendencies. The last date abruptly, ended in unfortunate tragedy, so I did my best to behave. Consequently, my gun was the only occupant of the Chanel satchel that I carried close. Mr. Waiter was on point tonight. He too, sensed my urgency of tension release. Shoemacher was so engrossed in his presentation of self that he refused the glass of Duckhorn offered to him. I’m sure some guilt will set in within self, when he realizes that tonight was a waste of his time and money. I could only imagine the conversation that Juwann and my sister would indulge in.

The Merlot was an awesome diversion. Each time that I refilled my glass with the liquid concoction of courage, my boredom was heightened. That means that time was flying and this horrific moment was close to coming to an end. The arrival of our meals finally concluded Juwann’s rambunctious chatter. Ravenously, I devoured my lamb. My stomach rewarded me with the satisfaction of being full. He was equally famished. The clank of the knife and fork brought my full attention to his roasted duck. This was the first time that I gave his physical appearance a study.

His familiar fragrance of Armani had been lingering since my arrival. I took notice that his custom made, Tom Ford blazer was topped off with diamond cuban links. He kept adjusting himself in an attempt to pop his collar. Uncomfortably, I shifted in my chair. Anxiety was threatening to get the best of me. All of this was a complete turn off. I was disgusted with myself, my sister and the clown she hired. The icing on the cake was upon the completion of his meal. He looked at me with a satisfactory grin and that’s when I saw it. It was nestled right on the peak of his nose. Duckhorn had aided in my graduation. I was no longer seeing in double. My vision was enlarged and the mole was colossal. The facial fetus was expanding by the second. I could have sworn that hair follicles were beginning to form at its base. Eyeballing the last three glasses of Merlot, I subconsciously carried out my dinner routine. Ensuring that all the Duckhorn had been consumed, I made way to the ladies room. The common app was on stand bye as I casually released my bodily fluids. By the time I had thoroughly sanitized my hands, the alert had come through. What a wave of release! Excitement directed me to follow the pin. Recognizing the path, I spotted Shoemacher waiting patiently. It was hard to decipher if he was waiting for me or the check. Either way, he was sure to have a big surprise. Making a bee line for the alternate door titled exit, I never looked back. Even after I activated the fire alarm, I did not give the past a single thought. I was looking towards the future. This was an emergency. Thats why I had to use it’s intended exit to make it to my Lyft driver before he cancelled my call.