20. Tyson

Staringat my reflection in the mirror, I lean in with the electric shaver. I press the edge along my hairline, making sure my line is straight. I’ve been cutting my own hair for a long time.

When I first moved to Spain, I tried my luck at a barbershop, and my line got fucked up. One side was pushed back, and it was one of the worst experiences I’ve had. So after wearing hats for damn near a month, I learned how to do it myself, and I’ve been cutting my hair ever since. It comes in handy because I travel so much, and trusting someone to cut my hair in a new city is major.

I take the small brush and go along my perimeter. Tiny hairs are scattered along the sink and counter, as well as my shoulders, which is why I took off my shirt. It can get a little messy, but I live alone, so there’s no one to complain.

I clean my tools before I pack them in their small black box and stick them under the sink. I wash my hands and spray down the counter and sink, cleaning all my hair away. I’ll jump in the shower, and then I can be on my way. Issa is meeting me at this out-the-way spot I found. When she tasked me with finding a great menu, I took it to heart. I’m not sure why, but her approval means something to me, and I can’t wait for her to taste what I’ve pulled together.

After my shower, I spray on cologne and get dressed in jeans and a casual button-up shirt. I throw on my shades, and I’m out the door when my phone chimes.

Issa: Hey, have you left yet?

Me: Leaving now.

Issa: Perfect, Tyree and me are leaving now. See you soon.

I swallow and clear my throat. Of course, she and Tyree are meeting us; Tyree, my best friend. I squeeze the steering wheel and continue to back out. The drive is short, and I make it to the restaurant with ten minutes to spare.

This place offers a variety of options. I know she has a few guests with food allergies and special requirements. I park and hop out, walking up to the front.

The restaurant is unassuming, which is probably why I like it. Anyone can eat at the most popular spots, but I enjoy finding hidden gems. I’m sure that stems from my experience overseas. Most times, the tourist spots have the worst food, and the places the locals go to are way better.

The door chimes as I open it, and I lose my breath. My eyebrows dip low, and I shake off the feeling. Tyree and Issa are already here. She’s laughing with her whole body. Her head is thrown back, and her face… Her face is expressive and one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen.

Beautiful?I clear my throat and stuff that thought somewhere deep. Tyree is smiling down at Issa, and my gut twists. The hostess guides me to the table, and as I get close, my fingers tingle.

“Hey, here he is. What’s up, man?” Tyree says while standing to give me a hug.

“Nothing much. Been here long?”

I bend down to give Issa a hug, and her scent subtly wafts into my space. The sweetness is quickly becoming a core memory. I inhale deeply, and my eyes close for the briefest moment before I stand up and shake off this feeling.

“Nah, we just got here. Clarissa was just telling me about the shopping trip. I hate I missed it. You know I would’ve helped.”

“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.”

I take a seat, and so does Tyree. They both move their attention to me, and I release a breath, plastering on a smile I don’t feel. I clap my hands before I speak. “So, are we ready?”

Issa dances in her seat, and a smile takes over her face. “I’m so ready.”

“I second that. We were eating those Chinese leftovers for a week, but it was as good as Clarissa said it was.”

“Right,” I say with a slight head nod. “Okay, I know you mentioned your aunt is vegan, and a few other people have food allergies. This place can tailor the menu for those specific needs.”

“Tyson, hey!” A man dressed in black slacks and a white chef coat comes from the back and walks up to the table.

“Sammie, hey,” I say, standing up to greet the chef. When I was on the hunt for a menu, I came in to talk to the owner, who also happened to be the chef. He turned out to be cool as hell. He’s been cooking for fifteen years and started off catering, so he understands what handling a wedding will entail.

“Issa, Tyree, this is Sammie, the chef and owner.”

“Nice to meet you,” they say in unison, and we have a seat.

“I feel like I already know you all. Tyson went on and on about the upcoming wedding and how the perfect menu was needed.”

At the chef’s words, Tyree tilts his head and smiles. “My guy.”

I swallow, and my feet feel as though I’m dredging through quicksand.

“Yep, he was adamant we make a special menu, so I did.”

After the chef speaks, a line of waiters come out from the back with small white plates on silver trays. They walk in a line, placing several dishes in front of us before they twist and are back in the kitchen and out of sight.

“I appreciate Tyson so much because putting this menu together brought me back to culinary school. Back when it was fun to see what I could come up with. You have a gift, sir. You motivated me to think outside the box.”

“Hey, come on. You did the work,” I say. I lower my head, and a prickling sensation along my face pulls me in that direction. Issa is staring at me, and for a moment, I breathe easier. For a moment, it feels perfect.

She pushes my shoulder and says lowly, “Thanks, Tyson.” I don’t respond, but I do smile, even as my throat gets tight and my sweaty palms slide down my pants.

“Okay, so this is going to be a fusion menu, Asian and Caribbean style.”

“Wow, okay,” Issa says, and her face lights up.

We try each dish, and the next is better than the last. Nothing was missed. Even the vegan options were on point.

“So what do you think?” Chef asks, and Tyree is licking his fingers and nodding before he can speak.

“This is it, Chef.” He’s still chewing the jerk chicken egg rolls that were so divine I had the chef make Issa a to-go box because I knew she would love them.

“Great! If you want to come back to my office, we can get the contracts signed and the deposit squared away.”

Tyree stands with the chef, and they move to the back.

“Right behind you. I just wanted to show Issa something.”

Tyree nods and walks down a short hall with Sammie.

“Tyson, these egg rolls are so good! I might die.” She presses her hands to her face with clear desperation marring her features. This makes me smile.

“I knew you’d love them.” I push a box that sits off to the side in front of her, and she narrows her eyes, but her smile is so bold.

“What?”

“Open it and see.”

She lifts the top, and a squeal escapes her. “Tyson, oh my gosh!”

“What the fuck, Issa, are you crying?” Somehow, in a matter of seconds, her eyes are glossy.

“No,” she says, but her tone leaves no argument. I take her hand, and what can only be described as a jolt shocks me. The point of contact tingles even after I release her.

Her eyes are wide, and I smile in spite of the twist in my gut. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I bring my hands up to press them together before I shake my shoulders. “Sorry,” I finally say.

“No, it’s perfect. I was already trying to figure out how I was going to get my hands on some of these. They’re not on his menu.”

“Hence the reason I made sure you had your own stash.”

“Tyson, I swear we’re best friends now. Okay, outside of Rissa, but you get it.”

I smile as she takes a bite of a fresh egg roll. I’ve never enjoyed watching someone else eat before. It’s like an intangible thing that fills me, though. Her enjoyment becomes my own.

“You better get to the back.”

“Right,” she says while standing. She jogs off but doubles back to take another bite, and I laugh, hard this time because of course, she would.

Once she is out of sight, I lean back in my seat. My focus is on the vaulted ceilings and red crown molding. A few minutes later, they all come out, and I sit up.

“Thank you again. Please stay and finish eating. Tyson, I’ve got your number.” Sammie points at me. “We need to hang out, but let me get back to the kitchen. It was nice meeting everyone.”

We all thank him again, and the chef leaves.

“Man, you’re the same as you were in college.” Tyree laughs.

“What?”

“You made friends so easily. Not to mention, every woman in here is giving you their undivided attention.”

I lean back, and my brows lower. “What?”

He twists his finger in the air as if to say look around, and when I do, I’m shocked.

A woman to my left is staring at me like we’ve met, and I’ve never seen her before. Some of the other women are a little bit more subtle, but their eyes continue to dart my way. I didn’t even feel it. There was no prickling sensation that a stranger was staring at me because my attention was elsewhere.

I wave him off, but he keeps going.

“Nah, you still writing poems? I love you, but you never left the dorm without your book. All the girls loved him for it, too.”

“Revisionary history because I was a nerdy kid that stuck to myself.” I shrug.

“You weren’t, you just thought that’s how people saw you. But I like how you didn’t answer the question. You still writing?”

I shake my head and focus on my fingers. “I mean, I dabble a little bit.”

“I knew it!”

“Wait, really? I want to hear something,” Issa says, and my heart thumps.

“Yeah, come on.” Tyree joins in with a smile that matches Issa’s. It’s big and open, and I try not to dwell on why it hurts.

I clear my throat. “I didn’t prepare anything.”

Writing has always been an outlet for me. A space I could live in that was free from judgment and prying eyes, mostly because it’s something I did for myself—a space to get my feelings out without fear. While I did a few poetry spots in college, I don’t tend to share my art with anyone else.

“That’s fine, make something up or do an old one,” Issa says.

Normally, I would change the subject or simply say no to the request, but as Issa looks up at me with those eyes, my chest tingles, and I clear my throat.

I press my palms together and close my eyes, figuring it might be easier if I could see the image uninterrupted in my mind.

“I wish it weren’t true. I wish it were me and you. I wish for many things. The essence of time makes me want to rewind. Where were you? Where was I? Silk strings fill my dreams. I wish for so many things. Like the feel of your fingers and the taste of your tongue. A word of your moment or a song to be sung. Wild and free we would be. I wish for so many things. Mostly, I wish it were me.”

I open my eyes, and they connect with Issa’s.

“Damn, that was good,” Tyree says. “You just made that up right now?”

I clear my throat and move from Issa to Tyree. “Yeah, I just kind of wrote it in my head. Random thoughts.”

“Wow, Tyson. That was beautiful.” Issa is smiling now, and I release a breath. Even as my career shifted, poetry has always been my outlet, something I loved to do.

Tyree clears his throat and takes a sip of water. “We got to get you set up, Tyson. You’ve been back for over a month now. Maybe we can all do double dates—when you get a girl, that is.” He laughs, and I nod.

“Yeah, maybe.”

We continue to eat, but I can’t taste anything. My heart feels like it’s been sliced open. I close my eyes, and the sweetest image appears. Fluffy curls and a button nose. Skin that looks soft and a smile that guts me. I open my eyes and see the same image. An image of Issa laughing and dancing in her seat.

How the fuck did this happen?