Roxy and I have been playing phone tag ever since I gave John-John a visit. I don’t think he told her—why would he? I’ve listened to her messages over and over like I would a Charlie Parker riff. I can’t keep holding on like this, that’s for sure. It seems like I’ve tried everything. And since I’ve chilled on the column, there has been an overflow of e-mails coming in. I can’t be true to them or to myself as long as J continues to market Truelove and the site the way he does. It’s been a week and I haven’t heard from J, nor have I seen any new Truelove posters or flyers around. He hasn’t even updated the site. I guess he understands how important the actual column was. I’ll let him deal with that.
For now I have to make one last plea to Roxy; it seems like I was the one she wanted to let go of. But if she does want to scratch me out of her life and move on with John-John, then why does she still call me? I know that there is something deep inside of her that’s just clawing, biting, and dying to be close to me and be who we used to be—friends, best friends. I’ll invite her to that jazz historian competition Kris put me onto and if she comes, she comes. It’s time to throw out the line and see if she bites.
Subject: invitation?
Date: March 8
From: “Diego Montgomery” <Supreme_i6@blunote.net>
To: “Roxanne Sophia Patterson” <Poprox279@goodgyrl.net>
What up, Naima. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to catch up with each other. Something tells me that a part of you wants to, but the other half has settled into the idea of being Mrs. John-John McAfee. That’s cool. I really don’t blame you, considering that I acted like an idiot—it ain’t cool, but what can I do? I don’t know what else to do or what else to tell you. I’ve said I’m sorry, I’ve told you that I’ve changed and that I miss the hell out of you. All I want is for us to go back to the Naima and Supreme we used to be. Not only do I believe it can happen, but we can grow together, which is what we would have been doing now if I hadn’t flipped out on you.
I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you last summer. I’m just not the same person without you. During our time away from each other, I’ve learned that our relationship is more valuable than what other people say we should be doing, how our relationship should grow, or how we should express our feelings. I’m crazy for you—as a friend first, and anything after that is just a bonus. I just want to be around you, talk to you, laugh with you, and enjoy everything that you are.
With all that being said, I’d just like to invite you to this jazz historian competition that my big sister Kris signed me up for. It’s at this old jazz joint called Pharaoh’s Brother on Capitol Ave. I don’t know who I’ll be going up against but seriously, do they stand a chance? Jazz is probably the only thing in my life that I feel confident about right now.
The competition starts at 5PM. I’m just throwing it out. If you don’t come or can’t come, I’ll understand. I’ll just celebrate my victory, wish you were there, and wish you well. I don’t think I can keep frontin’ like I’m comfortable with you being with someone else; it hurts too much.
Five o’clock. Tomorrow. Pharaoh’s Brother.
I’d love to see you again.
Yours,