“Happy birthday to ya!
Happy birthday to ya!
Happy birthday!”
My Kool-Aid smile stretched from ear to ear. Dimples, deep curls falling in my face. I pushed them to the side as I looked around the dinner table and soaked in the moment. Each person around the table played a major role in my life. There were remnants from my past that always reminded me of where I’ve come from. There were new friends who believed in me and nurtured the God in me. There were business partners who shared some of the same dreams as I did and wanted to help take the vision to the next level.
This was thirty. I looked around the table in silence at all the smiling faces and loud music.
“Make a wish!”
I heard someone yell over the laughs and camera phone flashes.
I closed my eyes and thanked God that my wish had already come true.
Purpose, mission, and a family.
As I blew out my candles, I felt the phone vibrate.
“Happy birthday, Fav!”
The smile that was already on my face grew larger at the sound of the voice.
“Fat head!”
My voice instantly turned me into a teenager again.
It was Hasan.
We had always kept in contact over the years, but I hadn’t spoken with him in some time, and his voice was a pleasant surprise. It was familiar. It was strong, sure, rooted. He was my truest male friend. He knew me from the inside like he saw my spirit. That scared me. I had never known anyone who studied me like that. Who cared enough to pay that close attention to every detail that was me.
“My Queen.”
My thoughts were interrupted by his voice. That voice so full of love, joy, and respect. I always admired his ability to love while being surrounded by so much hate. We had both seen so much hate, loss, betrayal, disappointment, and somehow managed to maintain hope. We met in hope.
I laughed.
“What’s up, Fav?” I quickly shot back as a means of blocking his words from penetrating my heart. We were friends, and things worked better for us when we kept it that way. Deep down, though, we knew the amount of love we had for each other. A tear began to well up in my eye as I began thinking about how I wish he could have been there with me, celebrating my birthday instead of in a jail cell. Just then, almost as if on cue, he interrupted my thoughts again.
“What’s up, girl? What you doing, you enjoying yourself?”
I stepped outside the crowded restaurant to honor the conversation and answer his questions.
“Guess what, Fav? I been writing, and singing and recording!”
“For real?!” I could hear the excitement and smile in his voice. “Let me hear something.”
I paused for a moment….
“Hellooo ….”
“Shut up, Fav.” As he laughed, I closed my eyes and started to sing.
“Once upon a time there was a Queen in disguise
From east Oakland Ghetto ashes she rise
Often overlooked when holy tongues prophesied
Now she’s in a place that can’t be denied.”
I stopped and silently waited for his response.
“Why you stop?”
“You like it, Fav?” I asked, awaiting his approval
“I love it! You wrote that?” I smiled after hearing the pride in his voice.
I explained to him about meeting Song, the music, and community building. He sat in silence, soaking up each word. After ranting for about twenty minutes, I paused.
“Hey, Fav. I really love you. I know you know that, but sometimes I know it may not seem like it. I know we’re from different worlds, but I want you to know I love you and value you so much. You really taught me a lot about love. Patience. Forgiveness. Understanding. Thank you.”
“I know you love me, Fav. You don’t have to say that, but thank you for that. It’s nice hearing it. Get back to your party. I’m proud of you, Queen.”
The words coming from him meant everything. As I hung up the phone, I sat in the summer night alone with God. I thanked Him for my life and the lessons up until that point. I thanked Him for all the people in my life, from friends to enemies. I thanked Him for love in unlikely places and backgrounds. Through everything I was still standing, still producing. I was more than lucky: I was blessed.
When I went back into the restaurant, I noticed two unfamiliar faces at the table sitting next to Song’s boyfriend, Arman.
“Hey, sis, where you been? I been looking for you!”
I explained I had just received a call from Hasan and instantly she understood.
“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people.”
She grabbed my hand and walked me over to the two men sitting at the dinner table.
“This is Frank and this is Talib. They’re Arman’s cousins from Chicago.”
I extended my hand to greet both of the gentlemen.
“Happy birthday, Queen.” Talib stood up, ignoring my hand, going straight in for a hug instead. Frank followed suit.
Both men were extremely attractive. Frank was cleaner cut, brown skin, tapered haircut, facial hair, and a gorgeous smile. Talib, however, instantly grabbed my attention. His hair was freshly cut as well, but longer, curly, and free like mine. He had a full beard and was brown-skinned, had a beautiful smile and droopy eyes. He looked like he was an artist type. Very laid back and secure, sure of himself.
“So you turning the big 3-0 huh?” he asked with a smile on his face
I laughed and nodded.
“You looking good, girl, you doing something right.”
I blushed.
“How old are you, guys?” I asked both cousins to throw some mystery in the game.
Frank said he just made thirty-four and Talib would be turning thirty-two in a few months. Dinner was wrapping up at that point and a lot of my guests were heading out.
“So what’s up birthday Queen, where we to next?” Talib asked, calling for my attention.
I was interested in finding out more about him for sure. Only man I had even met who seemed as secure, yet gentle, was Hasan.
“I don’t know. What is there to do?” I responded, looking at Song.
“There’s an open mic downtown. Let’s check that out,” Arman responded, adding, “Maybe you can spit something for us, sis.”
Talib’s eyes widened. “You’re a poet?”
I bowed my head. “Yeah, I do a little bit of writing.”
“Pshhh, a little bit! Cuz, she dope,” Arman chimed in again, not missing a beat.
Talib looked down to meet my drooping head. “Don’t downplay your skills. It’s okay to be brilliant.”
I looked at him and laughed.
He looked me in my eyes. “I’m serious.”
I’ve always loved being around artists of any type. It’s something about the creative process that inspires. Seeing how different people from different backgrounds express and manifest ideas is dope to me. We got to the open mic and found a nice section to kick back in. One of my good friends came with us to keep Frank company.
About ten minutes in, Song decided she wanted to dance, and Frank and my friend joined them, leaving Talib and me alone at the table.
“So, are you enjoying your birthday?”
He was cool. Like really calm and low-key, but not boring.
“Yea, I actually am.”
“If you can describe this birthday in one word, what would it be?”
I thought awhile, then responded, “Grateful.”
“Hmmm.” Talib rubbed his facial hair and he pondered over my response. “Interesting.”
I laughed.
We continued chatting for about thirty minutes while the others enjoyed the live music on the dance floor.
“So what do you do?”
I was interested. The words came out before the actual thought was fully formed in my head.
“I’m a writer. A photographer on the side as a hobby.”
He went on to explain that he had published a few books.
“I’m really big into community activism. I’m heavily involved in a lot of organizing in Chicago’s inner cities. I mean that’s where I was raised, so it has my heart, you know?”
I was impressed but couldn’t let him know. I just smiled and nodded my head, allowing him to continue to talk. He spoke with such passion it was hard not to engage. He continued to explain that he was currently in the process of birthing his own publishing house, where he would focus on allowing inner city youth the platform to tell their stories.
“Frank owns a youth center in Chicago that feeds the community and offers opportunities to expose young people to the arts. We’re both heavily engaged in redefining our city.”
We conversed the rest of the night until the lounge closed.
“I like talking with you, Queen. Can I call you?”
Duh is what I thought in my head, but I smiled and agreed.