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There was nothing to gain from pretending I hadn’t messed up with Noah. I had, and I knew from the moment she hung up after I cancelled our dinner date. The calls she sent straight to voicemail and ignored texts only drove her point home further.
Maybe I should have taken the hint. It was obvious she’d written me off, and didn’t want to be bothered. But there was still that thread of something that, for whatever reason, wouldn’t let my brain accept that as the end. If she’d said, “Leave me alone,” or even anything like it, I’d honor that, no question. But I couldn’t help feeling like there was a reason she hadn’t.
When I saw she was going to be at an event in LA, two weeks after that fateful airport kiss, I bought a ticket to it. And I went.
I arrived early, hoping for the unlikely event that I’d be able to catch her before it started. Security hadn’t gotten into place yet at the venue, so I slipped in easily, looking around the large space that was set up theatre style – workers were even putting together a small stage.
To the right of the room, caterers had set up a table of snacks, and that was where I spotted Noah – or rather, her hair. She had the fro out today, and was taking full advantage of the warm weather, in a jumpsuit that dipped low at the back, showing off smooth dark skin.
It was like a magnet.
My head was high as I walked over to where she stood, taking care not to get too close before I called her name. When she turned from the duo of women she was talking to, recognition was the first thing to light her eyes. There was a quick flash of happiness before she shuttered it, fixing her face into a muted scowl.
“Can I help you?” she asked, with a distinct frostiness that stung.
“Yes,” I answered, pulling a smile to my face to combat her icy demeanor. “Remember that rain check I mentioned on dinner? I’m here, you’re here, so I figured maybe...?”
She scoffed. “What, so you can cancel on me at the last minute again, without an explanation? I think I’ll pass. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready for this event, which is for ticket-holders only.”
“I wouldn’t cancel on you again, Noah. And I have a ticket.”
Her eyes widened a bit over that news. “Oh. Well, enjoy the show.”
“And what about dinner?” I asked, taking a step closer.
“What about it?” She crossed her arms, tipping her head back at me, not bothering to hide any of the disdain in her expression.
“I know I messed up by cancelling on you, and I’m sorry. Give me an opportunity to make it up to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Any time a man has said those words to me, it has always been followed by some bullshit, and preceded by some bullshit I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place.”
“That’s not this,” I insisted. “And I’m not them.”
For the first time since turning to see my face, she cracked a smile that quickly developed into a giggle. “You always say that. And you always are, indeed, “them”.”
“Just dinner,” I said, taking a chance on grabbing her hand, and ignoring the too-accurate verbal jab she’d thrown. “That’s all I’m asking. The dinner we didn’t get to have.”
Slipping her hand from my palm, she shook her head. “I gotta go.”
Shit.
I doubted disrupting her event would win any points, so I let it go, choosing instead to get myself into a seat. I’d woken up fatigued, and standing around wasn’t making it better. Once other people started coming in and finding their seats, I quickly discovered that sitting wasn’t much of an improvement.
Before long, I was surrounded by giggly women who seemed to be very intrigued by my presence. I was one of maybe 5 men in an event very clearly geared toward women, a fact I hadn’t considered in my mission to get close to Noah. I pulled out my phone to look at the flyer she’d posted this morning on her Instagram page, along with a caption about looking forward to it.
Feelin’ Yourself – Becoming your own “Woman Crush Everyday”.
Ah, shit.
With a heavy sigh, I settled further into my seat, trying to ignore the ache building in my joints. The event was starting soon, and even though I was far from the target audience, I wasn’t immune to the electric buzz of excitement in the room. Background music began to filter in as the lights lowered enough that the audience wasn’t under the artificial glare of the fluorescent lights. Above us, string lights glowed, helping create a warm, cheery vibe that felt very... Noah.
After a few more moments, the music lowered, and the host of the panel came out to introduce the guests. Cameron Taylor, founder and owner of Sugar&Spice magazine, who I’d worked with before, and knew fairly well. And of course, Noah, who I was trying to know better.
The twenty or so minutes were used by Cam and Noah taking turns telling their story. I’d heard Cameron’s before, because of a short I’d filmed for her and her sister, Jai, who owned Honeybee. For Cam, the discovery of a cheating fiancé had led to a car accident that left her unable to walk for a while. She’d attempted to get through that ordeal by self-medicating with liquor, which ended up being another thing to overcome.
“But, I’m here,” Cam said, ending her abbreviated autobiography with a smile. “I’m here, and I have a good life – a life I love. But don’t let the fact that it looks good outside fool you into thinking it always looks good in here or here.” She pointed to her head, and then her heart. “We all have flaws, and we all have mess to deal with. But it doesn’t make us worthless, or worth any less.”
“Beautifully stated,” the host said, and audience applauded their agreement before she turned to Noah. “Okay girl,” she teased. “Talk to us about how you ended up with that “knows” in your screen name.”
Noah smiled. “Well, it’s certainly not as compelling as Cameron’s story, but I don’t sit here before you, the result of any sort of fairytale. The early parts of my childhood were, simply put, hell. Squalid living conditions thanks to drug addicted parents. Constant abuse – sexual, physical, psychological. I had fully grown adults who were supposed to love, nurture, and protect me, inflicting the worst kinds of mistreatment instead. But then, a woman named Helene decided to pop up on the son she hadn’t seen or heard from in years.
She didn’t even know her son had a child, let alone what was happening. And instead of the far-too-common outcome in our community, she did not sweep it under the rug because she loved her child. She advocated for a child.
Me.
I was six years old when my parents were put away for their crimes against me, and I went to live with Helene. She saved my life. Not just removing me from that situation, but by instilling a sense of value in me that I’d never felt about myself before. She took me to see therapists, kept up with the counseling, everything she was supposed to do to help me through that trauma. But she also had my behind in church every Tuesday and Sunday, every revival, every vacation bible school, all of that. And even though I’m admittedly nobody’s church girl now – and I’m probably gonna get a good old church pinch for saying that,” she laughed, and the rest of us laughed with her.
“Growing up that way cemented for me that I’m not here just to be here. I survived something meant to destroy me – I can’t squander this second chance by living a life that is beneath my standing. I don’t accept the little crumbs that people try to throw, right? I don’t do “frenemies”, I don’t accept people who never have a positive thing to say, I don’t accept liars, I don’t share a partner with anybody, I don’t accept anybody’s bare-minimum. When you come to me, you come correct. I demand it. And you should do the same. How different could our world be if we – lovingly – challenged each other to do, and be better, instead of accepting scraps?”
“Whew,” the host said, playfully fanning herself. “I see Noah is starting the reading portion of this event good and early,” she teased, and Noah dropped her face into her hands. “Since she brought it up, let’s stay with that for a moment, and take some questions.”
This was interesting.
Not just because of the new information about Noah’s background, but seeing the way the audience responded to the women on stage. They were keyed in to every word, listening intently as they took questions from the audience, offering insights based on their real-life situations.
Neither made it seem like they had all the answers, and it was made clear more than once that neither were therapists – just women who’d been to relative hell and back, and wanted to be positive forces. They did give out books though – signed, hardcover copies of a book on healing and self-love written by Layla Alexander, a well-respected, licensed mental health professional.
The woman who Cameron credited with getting her life back together.
I was simply listening, and thinking about how I should have brought my sister with me, when a young girl who couldn’t have been much older than Tatia stood up, and was handed a mic to ask her question. She was clearly nervous, hands shaking as she lifted the microphone to her mouth.
“Um, Hi Noah,” she mumbled, and up on stage, Noah smiled.
“Hi beautiful. Can you tell us your name, and your question?”
The girl nodded. “Yes. Um, I’m Mia, and I’m seventeen. I look up to you a lot, because your skin is dark, like mine, and your hair is nappy like mine, but you’re so beautiful. Everybody loves you, and you’re so positive, and you had that fine man at the airport looking at you like he would do anything for you.”
I damn near choked on my own tongue over those words, but quickly suppressed my cough, not wanting to bring attention to myself. Everybody was too busy laughing and high-fiving and saying “yaaas girl” to notice me now anyway.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly, I felt like people were looking.
When I peeked up at Noah, she was blushing, trying hard not to let it turn into a full-blown smile.
“I guess,” Mia continued, once the commotion had died down, “My question is, when you were younger... like a teenager... did you get picked on, or overlooked, I guess? I hear stuff all the time about how I’d be prettier if I were lighter, and those are the girls everybody wants, so I guess... you’re beautiful now, but did you ever feel... not?”
“Only all the time,” Noah answered immediately. “I got all kinds of crap because I was dark skinned, with these full lips. I got the worst “talking to” of my life when I was your age, because Helene found a jar of skin lightening cream in the bathroom. The boy I desperately wanted to ask me to prom, told me he didn’t “do dark-skinned girls”. Nevermind the fact his skin was like darkest midnight. And I was so hopped up on teenaged emotions, and hormones that I let that convince me I needed to change to fit his standard. And my “friends” didn’t know enough to tell me different. At church, I prayed for lighter skin, for a looser curl to my hair. I envied girls who already had those things, and though it wasn’t fair to them, I even resented them a little for it.”
When I looked back at Mia, she was nodding, while tears streamed down her face. “How did you deal with it? How do you make people see you differently?”
“Excuse my language sweetheart, but fuck them,” Noah said, frowning. “Helene put me back in therapy, and the thing I had to come to terms with was that it wasn’t about how they saw me. It was about how I saw me. Mia, I can sit here and tell you it gets better, and that would be true. It does. And if you suffer through, you’ll see better days. Right now, they don’t want you, but later you’ll be hot, and they’ll be all you – word to Mike Jones. That’s true. But what is useful, right in this moment, is for you to see you in a different manner. Any potential suitor who does not see the beauty of you right now does not deserve you, and that is their loss. You must believe that about yourself. Anybody who has the power to alter how you feel about yourself will absolutely use it. What better hands to wield such a power than your own?”
Mia shook her head. “None.”
“That’s right. None. And when people know that, they will adjust accordingly.”
“That just...” Mia sighed. “It sounds so much easier said than done.”
Noah laughed. “Oh, it is. Or rather, was. This wasn’t something I internalized overnight, and anyone who claims such a thing is a liar. It’s gonna hurt to demand those girls be better friends or get dropped. It might not feel good to go to the mall, or go to the movies alone,” Noah told her, standing up from her seat to climb down the few steps from the stage and head to where Mia was standing. “But you know what you’ll never regret? Not compromising yourself.”
When she reached her, Noah pulled Mia into a hug that only had the girl sob harder. Noah put her hand over her lapel mic, to cover the sound as she said something into Mia’s ear, but the ambient mics told it all as she promised to get Mia into some sessions with a therapist.
As if I wasn’t already convinced she was dope.
Once the event was over, I hurried out of my seat, as much as I could. The last thing I wanted was for one of these women to recognize me as the “fine man at the airport”, and I cringed hard as hell when I heard my name called.
Relief came quickly when I registered that it was a male voice, and a familiar one at that.
“Nick, what it do?” Rashad asked, pulling his hand back to slap with mine as he approached me. We bumped shoulders before we stepped back, turning our backs to the wall to look at the crowd.
“Not shit, man. I see Sugar&Spice is keeping you busy?” I gestured toward the huge camera around his neck as he lifted it, snapping a flurry of pictures.
“Always,” he said, once he’d lowered it. “What you doing out here? You need some help loving yourself or something?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Noah as she made her way through the crowd of women, stopping to greet people and smile for pictures.
Gorgeous inside and out...
“Nah, not exactly.”
Rashad must have followed my gaze, because he chuckled before he said, “Oh. I see what you came to check out. Noah is next level.”
“Bruh, don’t you have a girl?”
“Yeah, and Bianca is next level too,” he laughed. “Just because I got a lady don’t mean I can’t appreciate yours.”
I shook my head. “Not my lady.”
“Oh, shit.” He turned to face me, his expression confused. “That whole airport thing, the picture of you and her kissing...”
“Looks can be deceiving, man.” I didn’t elaborate. Her being pissed at me made the whole idea of kissing her that day sound even more ridiculous than it already was.
Rashad grunted. “Man, you know I know that shit is the truth. I see boss-lady gesturing at me though, so let me go ahead and get over here. You stay up, aiight?”
“You too.”
We bumped fists in parting so he could go to where Cameron was, indeed, frantically motioning for his attention. I ducked off before she noticed me too, not wanting to take more inevitable questions about me and Noah. I found myself a spot out of the way until the crowd had thinned to a few industry people and the crew from the magazine and venue, and of course, Noah.
“Hey,” I called out, rushing to catch her attention as she left a conversation, and headed toward the back. When she looked up, noticing it was me, she rolled her eyes.
“Nick, I’m tired. What are you still doing here?”
I grinned at her. “Dinner, remember? You didn’t give me an answer.”
“Um,” her eyebrows bunched together. “I definitely gave you an answer.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “Well, maybe I was hoping it changed.”
Noah propped her hands on her hips. “Were you paying attention to anything I said today, during the event?”
“I was hanging on every word.”
She bit down on her lip to suppress a smile before her eyes came back to mine. “Then, you know my answer hasn’t changed. No half-efforts.”
“Good, because I make it a point not to half-ass anything,” I told her, stepping closer. “Me coming today to plead my case, the calls and texts you ignored, me getting on a plane to come and take you to lunch – and bring you your favorite flowers. Even when I kissed you, Noah, I didn’t half-ass it. You know that.”
She drew her head back. “Oh, I do?”
“Yeah, you do. So, what’s up?”
Noah scoffed. “What’s up is you canceled on me right before I was about to walk out the door, with no explanation, and you still haven’t given one. Now, your business is your business – you don’t owe me anything. But I choose not to accept that. So, I’m going to take a shower, and lay down before I go to dinner with my team tonight, and then get on my flight tomorrow. It’s not about you, Nick. It’s about me.”
She patted me on the hand in a way that felt final, and then turned and walked away – no room for misinterpretation. I didn’t even bother playing the shit off – my damn shoulders dropped in disappointment, and stayed that way even when she glanced back to give me a little wave.
I tossed my hand up to return the gesture.
As I left the venue and headed to my car, I cursed myself out in my head. I should have gone on the damn date that night, but I’d thought it was better to catch her another time than to go knowing what the experience was going to be like.
Apparently, I’d been wrong.
And I couldn’t do anything but sit with that.
All the way back to my apartment, where I called my sister and told her about the book, then watched the final cut of Payton’s movie, then blew time on the internet, whatever I could to try to get Noah off my mind.
Hours after the event was over, I was still trying. The sun was heading down, and my energy was going with it, so I took a shower and got my ass in the bed. No sooner than I closed my eyes, my phone chimed with a text that made me sit straight up.
“So, about dinner... - Noah”