I WILL CHOOSE HER (ALWAYS)

Chapter I

Draft

June 12, 2018

To: Fatima Wilson

From: Zachary Taylor

No Subject

I miss you. Will you pick up if I call?

Zachary beat himself up often not wanting to think of Fatima. That part of his life Atlanta, University, her was so long ago that it could almost happen to anyone else. Ever since then he had a life. Well so he thought. He has had five full years. A career, a name for himself, a fiancé and soon a baby in a new city.

Of course, there has been moments over the years where his mind wonder to Fatima.

How could it not?

Whether it was brief, fleeting, or few and far between there were some memories he just could not help himself to let go. Memories that are sealed and shove to the back of his mind that suppresses to the forefront every now and again like they had a mind of their own. However, memories are all he had allowed himself.

So, he had put the past behind him (practically) and had decided to let her go completely (mostly) and had settled into the life that he had chosen for himself. For most part it was fine. Karen had been kind, beautiful the exact kind of woman that he a child of a widower, of hard edges and pent-up anger should not have stood a chance with. Their engagement had been pleasant, good even.

Just when he was starting to find semblance and a sense of normalcy, some form of contentment it all came crashing down with a loud bang, the screeching of tire on wet asphalt, the sound of twisting metal and eerie silence.

His newfound life had taken him to New York and five years later the death of his fiancé and unborn child brought him back to Atlanta.

His return was like a time machine going back in time and all he could do was remember. As he trod a familiar street and all he could see was her. He had passed a familiar bar, which was once their spot, and he taste the Hennessy on his tongue, hear the sweet melodies that would flow from her, feels the too close press of her ass against him and all those years of willing himself to carefully not think about Fatima Wilson amount to naught.

And the sights he visited were the ones they used to hang. It was a kind of déjà vu catching him off guard at every turn. Memories flood his mind of her genuine laughter and intoxicated scent.

Memories so vivid, enough that it could conjure her up from out of thin air just to get a glimpse of her, to feel her, explore her, to give himself a chance to find the courage to tell her what he was so afraid of all those years ago.

It sickens— how those reminders are also content to not just live outside but also inside the comfort of his home.

It's a funny story really. A sick form of irony.

How he had made it a tradition to travel to the local bookstore biweekly on a Friday evening to stock up on motivational and affirmation books to indulge in on the weekends and early mornings. Fatima had introduce him to Louise Hay "I can do it" during a rough patch in Uni and ever since he had picked up the habit of reading daily.

He can't help to wonder what books is she reading these days and if she would be proud of how far he had come and the accomplishments he had obtain because somewhere in his head there's always her voice saying "Zachary you got potential, potential to be great" it was like a mantra an old record that was stuck in a record player on repeat that he never allowed himself to turn off.

Which is why he's in a bookstore stocking up once again. As he placed the pile of books he had picked up ready to pay he had glimpse a newspaper article.

There she was on the cover of the paper looking radiant as ever. Her name in big bold flashy letter "Court ruled in favour of ATTORNEY WILSON in the Johnson murder trial"

"Of course it would, it's her." He had mumbled to himself before asking the clerk to add it to his pile of books. She had made it just like he knew she would.

And all those memories that he had work had to suppress came instantly. It's like the universe was determined to pry open the parts of him that wonders about Fatima. And to say the lease it's working because he remembers it. All the small details, every emotion, ever look was flooding his mind. And he's about to be swept up in the whirlwind before he'd even realize it.