Black Waters (Frank Ocean Love Story)

Chapter 十

Christopher’s View . ▲ †

“Lists are therapeutic.” –A Wise Man.

I decided to make a really special list today: a list of all the things I’ve taken for granted and still am taking for granted. I thought that should be easy for me, since I take so many things for granted. It was easy, as a matter of fact. It was just more emotional than I thought it would be.

 I spent a lot of time thinking about the first thing on the list…Ajahni. These days, every time I think about her I want to cry (and I’m not the type to cry easily, by the way). Why did I leave her? I didn’t even have to. But I did, and now we’ll probably never see each other again.

Yet Lucas, of all people, is the one to see her at my concert. It was my concert, and my chance to see her. Not his.

One day, hopefully, Ajahni and I will reunite. That day will be the day that I find out what the purpose of us meeting in the first place really was. We had to have met for a reason. The bond we share is just…too strong, too abnormal.

When I wrote down her name on that paper, I wrote it down again. Then I put my pen down. I picked it up again, and wrote her name. Then I wrote her name again, and again, and again, until a single tear dropped from my eye. Another one came, and another. Soon, my tears were clouding my vision and I was too weak to hold the pen in my hand. I cupped my face in my hands and cried for about five whole minutes.

My heart hurt.

“They’re all here, man.” Tyler said suddenly as he entered my room. I wiped my eyes as well as I could. Tyler couldn’t see me crying. I don’t think he would lose respect for me, but maybe I would lose respect for myself.

“Who’s here?” I asked him without turning around. My voice didn’t break when I spoke, fortunately.

“The girls…white girls. They’re not in the house, but they’re outside. Some volleyball game ended, and man, those girls are thirsty right now.” He said. I sighed in frustration, and looked up to the ceiling. Great…right when I’m in such a vulnerable state, someone as immature as Tyler comes to talk to me about girls. Girls.

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I said, I don’t care about those girls out there. I couldn’t care less if they all slept with you, or if they died, or whatever. I couldn’t care less if they could sing, or if you loved them and then left them, or if you live with a guilty conscious for the rest of your life because of it. I don’t care Tyler, so just leave me alone.”

There was silence. I was afraid to turn around and look at him. If I did…I don’t know. But I didn’t turn around. He didn’t approach me either. It was simply still and silent, leaving space for thoughts and reactions to float around in the little atmosphere of this bedroom. I liked it that way.

“Frank…I don’t know if you’re feeling sensitive because of, you know, your sexuality…or if it’s something else. Either way, I understand. All you have to say is that you’re not in the mood. I get it.” He said slowly, interrupting the bliss quiet.

I nodded in reply. I kept nodding. If I tried to speak, I would cry. Tyler can’t witness that.

So he left, and I went back to my list. I avoided looking at you-know-who’s name on the paper and went on to the next person that came to mind…

Forrest.

Every time I say that name, I wish I could remember his real one. But for the life of me, I can’t. A made-up name for him is better than a real one, anyway. It’s more surreal.