I wake up with the weight of last night. Falling asleep to the scroll of past texts, the less dire ones, I admire the progress we’ve made. The older messages have been deleted, for both our sakes. Every time, without fail, when Harry and I text, my doubts get the best of me. I wonder if I should’ve done things differently. The answer is always obvious but never favorable.

I miss him. God do I miss him. I miss waking up next to him, his scent being the first to satisfy my senses. I miss how tiny or large those pupils gazed back at me, depending on the lighting of the room. The shade of his eyes were the brightest in the morning and richest at night. I miss the unique taste of his mouth before brushing, mildly stale with a feathered touch of mint.

Thinking if I stuck with the original plan of a casual fling, I could forget him, but I’m still waiting. So I keep pushing Harry to the back of my mind. I force myself to stop wondering what he’s doing in this precise moment. I stop asking myself if he’s thinking of me too.

I clap just inches in front of my face to snap out of it. I have to pull out of it, just like I’ve done every day for the past year.

---

The more I learn about the Global Citizens event, the happier I am to be a part of it. The field is packed at Central Park and the sun is our friend for a while. I’m sad to hear I’ll be missing Coldplay’s performance later this evening, but I can’t cancel on Kade. Good times will have to wait.

I convince Linda I’ll be fine riding the subway back on my own. There’s no sense in dragging her and Roger away. I’m unsure when Ed Sheeran will play, but I can’t help imagine the scenario if we should bump into each other. Would he even recognize me? Would he even care?

Before I know it, it’s time for me to head back home. It isn’t till after I take a shower that a little cold sweat emerges.

Linda’s dress makes me feel like Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. There’s no other option. I mean, it’s a glamorous dress but it isn’t me. As I’m styling my hair and checking my phone, I get a text that says Kade’s 30 minutes away and the jitters kick up a knotch.

Between the hair, make-up and picking out what shoes go with what purse, I hear the buzzard. Kade’s downstairs already?!


“Damn that was fast!” I rush to the intercom, “Hello?”

“Uh, hey! It’s Kade.”

“I’ll be right down. Ummm, should I bring anything? Pen? Notepad?”

“Nope. Just yuhself,” he chuckles and I can barely hear it through the speaker.

“Right! Be right down!”


I echo my words, shaking my head at the redundancy. Taking deep breaths as I maze out of the apartment building, I remind myself this is strictly for work. It doesn’t matter how attractive and manly he may be or how flattering this sweetheart cut looks over my chest.

My eyes scan the gentleman wearing shades and a 3 piece. I instantly recognize his beard and charismatic smile. For heaven’s sake! Why do men look so irresistible in a dark suit?


“Wow! Yuh look pretty amazing!” Kade seems surprised as he runs his tie between his fingers.

“Thank you. You look well suited up.” I smile with stage fright.

“Thank yuh, thank yuh. I’ve got the cab waiting fuh us...”


I nod and follow his lead. This being my 3rd time riding a taxi, it still feels weird not having my car. Should I assume he doesn’t have a car either or maybe there’ll be drinks later? On the ride back to the Columbus Circle area, there are few exchange of words. That’s helpful since I haven’t much to say for now.

We are dropped off the curb at the Lincoln Center where a bold red Jazz sign hangs illuminated. Kade guides me through the entrance and is immediately recognized by some friendly guards. Their slang terms fly over my head but I catch Kade’s Bostonian accent as it thickens. I enjoy the mixture of ages, skin tones and stereotypes seeping through the doors. Music really makes people come together.

There’s a wine bar and my mind relaxes before I can get my hands on a glass. I’ve seemed to have surprised Mr. Allister yet again. I can’t help my mild alcoholic tendencies. We worm our way to the bottom floor, off to a side room, and find the main guy. So I believe.


“Hey, Mistah Cahtah!” Kade shakes his hand and gets a bro hug with it.

“My man, what’s happenin’? You here for another show?”

“Yeah! Exposing our newest writah to the Jazz scene fah an enriching experience, yuh know?”

“I’m honored, Kade.”

“This is Jude Pierce. Jude, this is the legend Brahyan Cahtah.”


We shake hands and my mind quickly unscrambles the lettering to pronounce is name with more accuracy.


“Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter.”

“Pleasure is mine. I do hope you enjoy yourselves this evening. I can see you’ve already started.” He smiles glancing at my wine glass.


We bump into as many instrumentalists Kade can recognize before seeking our seats; this is a familiar feeling. We sit in a private box to the right side of the amphitheater. Lights are dim, reminiscent of candlelight. There’s plenty, if not mainly, couples occupying the seats. Every ingredient makes for a date but I will fight Linda’s theory till the end.


“So you’ll have to excuse my lack of Jazz knowledge as this is very new to me.”

“Not a Jazz fan? Gimmie a week!” Kade laughs.

“Planning on converting me huh?”

“Why not? It doesn’t huht to broaden those musical horizons.”

“True, and I can appreciate that as my mom’s a music teacher. But I only remember growing up to the sounds of The Beatles, The Doors, Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival and so on...”

“Cool folks! Explains that old caged soul.”

“Caged?”

“Jus’ an obsahvation!” he says raising his hands again.

“Anyway, what’s so special about tonight and your friend, Bryan Carter?”

“Well, let me tell yuh something-this kid is a wicked talented drummah!” Kade leans forward, knifing his words into the air. “He’s a fucking legend! Been playing drums since he was 3. At age 11 he was already practicing with the most respectable Jazz musicians. He went to Juilliahd and now plays at Cahnegie Hall, Staples Centah and all ovah the God damned world!”

“You seem quite smitten. Loyal fan.” I grin.

“Well yeah! My pops played jazz, rhythm and blues. Awesome oldies. Louie Armstrong?”

“Yes, I know a few songs from him. Thanks mom!” I exclaim my gratitude towards the ceiling.

“Yeah, see!”


The room darkens and the stage becomes a candescent time-machine. The quality of sound and impressive variety of instruments has me leaning in attentively. Eyes glistening over the violins and cello while Kade’s hands tap on his knees along with the drums. This is an experience alright! An experience I wouldn’t mind writing about.

The culminating crescendo has the audience reacting in orderly applause. No whistling in here, not like the concerts I’m used to, with Harry. Kade was right, I could convert but it isn’t necessarily my cup of tea. There’s no madness to witness as we exit the theater. This is kind of nice, really nice.


“So whatcha think?”

“You were right. It was an enchanting experience. I’m even jealous I can’t play an instrument now. . . Do you?

“I play a little drums, not like this kid though!”


Outside I realize Kade’s behavior towards me has been very pleasant and professional. I feel a bit guilty for entertaining the thought of this being a date and can’t wait to tell Linda a big fat “I told you so!” We wait for an empty taxi cab as they snake around the block, ready to snatch the closest customers.


“Let’s see-it’s 10:30, yuh in a rush to get home?”

“Not really,” I say as calmly as possible.

“Yuh experience the city’s night life yet?”

“Not really,” I repeat and shrug my shoulders.

“Not really-well shit! How fah can yuh walk in those things?” he asks pointing at my heels.

“Oh I don’t know, I can manage a few miles.” I smile casually.

“Good, I know a place a few blocks from here. Whadayah say, think yuh can make it?”

“Sure. It’s a nice night, as long as we don’t get mugged.”

“Haha, nah! Let’s get outta here!”


His smile is so contagious. I’m excited to take a bite of this luscious Big Apple.

Notes

A/N: Chapter Playlist

Always In My Head -Coldplay
Manhattan -Blossom Dearie