After a tragedy, Amila Johnson abandons her life in New York and retreats back to her birthplace of Houston. She tries to start anew but she can't get far with the skills of being an almost classically trained ballerina.
Deciding to take up her fri...
"Two and a half weeks." Amila corrected her friend as she plucked a celery stick off the charcuterie board and dipped it into the hummus in the middle. Each of the seventeen days was vivid in her mind. Days there were filled with busy work to keep her busy from thinking about the work she wasn't doing; taking her mind away from the job she wasn't performing. A few of those days she went down a dark tunnel that threatened to pull her down in a well of despair and depression about her plans for the future and how she didn't have one.
"Being a business person is hard work," Deja said as she waded to the side of the pool joining her by the bamboo platter topped with decadent cheese, thinly sliced meats, and ripe fruit. "I know it's a juggle from my little hustle so I know he's swapped."
Amila nodded then shook her half-eaten celery stick at her, "You're being modest. Your hustle isn't little. I saw that picture of you with the anchor for KHOU. You're doing makeup for an evening journalist, now."
"It was just a one-time thing." Deja nonchalantly put it as she reached for her glass of wine, the red liquid swayed more than the pool water around as she moved it to her lips. "Her regular person had strep and couldn't make it and an intern gave her my information."
"That's still big." Amila looked strangely at her friend's stoic face. "You're making connections. People are talking about you. Millions of people saw your work on primetime TV." She gave her friend a hand clap spraying a mist of water with every strike of her hand. "Deja Vu, that's big."
A smile slowly etched up Deja's make-up-free face, her hair was hidden behind an African print scarf which added to the beauty of her brown eyes and deep caramel hue. "It is, isn't it."
She spoke the words as if it was a question and Amila hoped her enthusiastic nod rid her of the uncertainty.
"It's just a matter of time until Beyonce calls you up."
Deja tipped her head back, guffawed, and then said. "Bitch, I wish."
"Stranger things have happened." She shrugged with humor still toying on her bare face.
She bit into the celery still emitting a loud crunch that momentarily drowned out the music streaming from her phone knowing that she was living one of those strange things. She was floating in a pool in the lush backyard of a million-dollar house enjoying what was possibly the last warm, sunny day of November. She was living a dream but was still annoyed by the faint pang in her chest. Why wasn't she overjoyed? Why wasn't she beaming with exhilaration? She knew why. She just wasn't ready to voice it aloud then maybe it would become more than a pang; it would be a soul-piercing pain.
"Can I ask you something?" Amila asked once she finished consuming the last of her celery stick.
"Yeah." Deja lifted her attention from the Welcome to the Neighborhood basket that Amila discovered in front of her door when she returned from the store that morning. "Anything."
Amila nodded, knowing she didn't have to ask the question but the nature of the subject material urged her to ask anyway. "So, I didn't have this issue at first. I was good but...um..." She drummed her nails on the smooth stone at the pool's side as she kicked her legs through the cool water. "...after you have sex do you...want it more or am I...morphing into a...nympho."
"A what?" Deja's hand went to her mouth but the chuckle was already out before she could reach her lips. "Girl, no. Don't say that again." She shook her head as the dreads of laughter were still written upon her face. "You just had good dick and want more of it. That's not a problem unless he's an actual dick. Is Dominic a dick?"
She thought about the house and car then let her mind travel to the non-material things; the conversations, the soft touches, and easy embraces and shook her head.
"He's..." She paused trying to nail down the precise word to sum him up, to describe how he made her feel. "...a dream."
"Then don't fret; craving him is a good thing." Deja shivered and Amila couldn't tell if it was real or if she was putting on but the smile upon her lips was certainly true. "You look happy."
Amila's lips rose up slightly as she tipped her head from side to side. "I'm getting there but.." Deja nodded as she went back to rummaging in the basket. "Part of me feels a little guilty about being almost happy and I know it's illogical and I shouldn't be guilty but I am."
"It's part of the grieving process," Deja stated, showing her a bottle of rose petal-infused bubble bath. Her friend's words carried a lot of weight since she journeyed down the path of grief before; her favorite cousin was taken away instantly after a car wreck. "Just take a breath and remind yourself that you deserve to be happy and being happy and moving forward doesn't mean you love them less...in a way it means you love them a lot."
Deja's hand froze in the basket as she turned to her friend with a tale of endless nights filled with tears and hurt. "You love them enough to let them rest and go on about your life. The living life and we shouldn't feel guilty about it. Wasting that time is a slap in the face to all who aren't here anymore because we've been gifted more time. Enjoy it."
"How does it feel?" Amila asked with a sniff.
Deja's beautifully arched eyebrows furrowed as she resumed her search of the back, "How does what feel?"
"Being the wise one in this friendship."
Deja chuckled as she pulled out a glossed card. "I'm not the wise one. I have some wisdom about some things but that's just because I did a lot and fucked up a lot."
"Isn't that what life's about." Amila started as she inspected the bottle of bubble bath and the bottle of lotion that came with it. "Making mistakes, learning from them, and getting better."
"Now, look who's the wise one." Deja teased.
Amila splashed water on her. "Whatever."
"Look." Deja handed her the glossed card. "This might be the cure to your boredom."
Amila claimed the card from her and ran her eyes over the graphics and font. "Pilates."
"It's what suburban housewives do to keep themselves busy while their husbands are out working and dating."
Amila smirked at her words as she read the remaining of the card, "...and Barre."
"Just try it." Deja read the worry on her friend's face. "It's just exercise. You might like it."
Amila tapped the card on stone knowing she'd love it. Her body tingled at the thought but was her heart ready? She read the date of the class. She had two days to determine that and since Dominic wouldn't be back until he figured out why a pipe burst at the Aspen property, her schedule was wide open.
Do you think Amila should go to the Pilates & Barre boutique?
Should Amila feel worried about her want for sex increasing since having sex? Was Deja's advice right?
Should Deja feel good about the progress she's making as a makeup artist?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
