dragged... (Part 33)

                Neither One of Us

Kimora’s rundown on all the drama that went on there at Lilly’s while I was sailing the beautiful, crystal clear waters of the Caribbean didn’t help elevate my spirit in the least – as a matter of fact, it reminded me just why I had left in the first place.  I didn’t care so much that Missouri Meadows had won top honors in our yearly contest because she really was deserving of it.  I was glad that she got the chance to make peace with her dad as well, not every gay person is that lucky to have their family embrace them and accept them as they are.

Now, I can honestly say this though, I was rather intrigued to learn that Sunny Skies had received the, long overdue, special delivery package intended for her, and I hoped that it had been enough to alter her crooked ass ways.  I had never met anyone in my life that I despised as much as her; she was always trying to taint someone’s credibility and ruin their repuatation just because.  If there wasn’t enough room in the Drag world for more than just one person to shine then, perhaps, it was time for me to start reaching for another dream. 

I had been home for more than a week and still had not heard from Diana Willingsly, but I couldn’t allow myself to get too disappointed if she never resurfaced.  I had to look on the bright side of things – I had a Luis Vutton trunk filled with an assortment of gorgeous gowns and matching stilettos, so even if she didn’t make good on all the promises she had made to me, I had still come out ahead.  I sure did wish, though, that she was serving more than just empty words. 

The cloudless blue sky up above was a blessing in itself in the great city of San Francisco, so instead of holding up in my condo like a recluse, I decided to drive over to Pier 39 and stroll along side the waterfront with all the tourists.  I parked over near Joe’s Crab Shack in hourly parking so that I wouldn’t have to comb the side streets with questionable elements.  I also did this because I didn’t feel like being pawed at by the local street vendors trying to sell me something as I passed (It’s like can’t I just stroll without being propositioned – Good God!). 

I put the keys to my car in my fanny pack, zipped it, and as I walked away from my car I felt a sense of empowerment about how I was putting my best foot forward instead of submitting to my melancholy mood and staying at home.  It was something that I could’ve easily done because I was still mourning the loss of Maddox McNair, but I had to remember that his loss was, in fact, my gain.  Sunny didn’t waste any time chewing him up and spitting him out; that call I got from him while I was in Florida assured me of that.  

The gentle breeze blowing was caressing my body like a gifted masseuse and even in the midst of all the chattering people my spirit felt so tranquil and free.  I didn’t want to let the specialness of this me time slip by too quickly, so I slowed the pace in which I walked.  During a break in the flow of one-way traffic, I darted across the street and located a free area along the wooden fence to park my elbows, so that I could gaze out at the calm waters of the Bay.  I didn’t make eye contact too long with anybody because I didn’t want anyone trying to strike up a conversation with me.  I wasn’t interested in meeting or getting to know anybody at that moment, for I was there to mediate and regenerate.

Local wildlife was in full effect lounging on the docks and flying overhead.  There had to have been about one hundred, loud, rude, and aggressive sea lions out basking in the sun.  When I looked down the railing, I saw several people with their cameras and camcorders out capturing nature at its best.  The larger of the sea lions occupied the wooden dock, and whenever a smaller one tried to climb on board, a fierce exchange would occur until the weaker one slid back into the water in defeat.  It was a true metaphor for life too, but I didn’t want to be the one always in the water, I wanted to be the one up on the dock calling the shot with the rest of the power players.   

Between the lively performances being put on by the sea lions, and the loud cawing above by natures very own scavengers, the sea gull, I was in absolute relaxation mode. I felt my cell phone vibrating in my fanny pack, but I ignored it.  Whoever it was would just have to wait their turn, I was too busy chilling to be bothered with any intrusion (even on the damn phone).   

“I haven’t seen you dressed as Alex in a long time, Elixir,” the familiar male voice said, speaking to my back.

My heart sank, but melted as I recounted hearing it for the first time as he peered at me through the opening of straps on the stiletto shoe that I eventually purchased that day. It was one of those misty moments when you wanted to cry, smile, and sing all at the same time, but you knew that if you did you would be as vulnerable as a naked flower beneath the searing sun of a desert sky. 

That’s when that song by Phyllis Hyman started playing inside my mind, “Somewhere in My lifetime”.   Instead of responding to him I shut my eyes, and listened to the words closely, as I felt the remaining pieces of my heart falling onto the floor of my soul…

And when she reached that final verse “…Somewhere in my lonely dreams, you’ve been here with me, oh, so close to me, and I’ve been loving you…”   I gasped out loud, and a single tear rolled down my left cheek…

I felt his hand on my right shoulder, and he said, “Lixy, it’s me…turn around and let me see those beautiful eyes.”

I couldn’t turn to face him…

I stood there in place, frozen like an ice sculpture sitting atop a table covered with liquid crimson in a damp, dim, vacant room. 

There was once a time when he used to consume every part of me, but that was before the lies, the deciept, and the pain that followed…

He kept calling my name repeatedly, and the more he called, the louder Phyllis’s song got in my head…”Somewhere in my lifetime, it was you and me…” 

It’s funny how men always wanted you to forget their philandering ways when they were down and out; how they expected you to welcome them with open arms as if the hole in your heart could regenerate after a few seconds of pleading in a sincere tone that you know is present and meant to hook you back…

I shook my shoulders so that he would remove his hand off of my shoulder and forced myself to start thinking more like Jill Scott (Living My Life Like it’s Golden) as opposed to Phyllis Hyman (Somewhere in my Lifetime).  I knew my posturing and refusal to turn around wasn’t sitting well with him at all, but I had to be strong because I knew that if I turned around and looked into his eyes, it would be over…

So, how much had I learned...?