Jazz Night - Part 2

How it all started...

Before marriage I was a very independent woman. I was a big fan of a solo date to dinner and a movie, or going to a museum. Before I met Hakeem, I rented a simple two bedroom townhome in Atlanta, and I was perfectly content. I worked as an office manager for one of the top accounting firms in the state and quickly gravitated up the latter to being the senior accountant. It was a role no one thought was good for me or believed me capable. God had his own plan. After a little over a year, I had my own corner office at Marshall Jones CPA at age 26.

My friends decided that a weekend trip was the only adequate way to celebrate. Not wanting to go too far, we thought Savannah would be the place to go. I heard so much about the richness and culture of Savannah, Georgia and the impeccable beauty of its parks. It was a win-win. We packed up my silver 2019 Honda Accord that Friday morning and took off. Savannah didn't disappoint in showing us a good time, though I still believe nothing would have soured how sweet I was feeling from beginning to end. We arrived there with full hearts and suitcases and left with a hundred memories, including getting Hakeem's phone number.

We were married seven months later in Savannah, Hakeem having proposed only a month before. In truth the wedding was only delayed by my own hesitation. I said no when he first asked, something he never let me forget. I was terrified of being married, of losing my independence among other things. The more time went on the more God revealed to me that Hakeem was to be my husband. I couldn't ignore that if I tried. The man had patience that floored me endlessly, and when I finally said yes he told me we were getting married immediately before I changed my mind.

My dad always called me a lone wolf, just like him. After I met Hakeem, he started telling me stories he never had before about his love life, or lack there of. He never married, and always told me it was one of his biggest regrets. My mother was the love of his life. Yet the reality of having forever with one person terrified him to no end. Losing her after my birth nearly destroyed him and he never forgave himself for not marrying her. He felt he didn't deserve happiness after that.

When he found out I turned Hakeem's proposal down, I was scolded like I was five stealing cookies from his stash. Then for the first time ever, I heard my father cry. That phone call shattered me, along with what he said.

"Toto," he said, the nickname that stuck when I couldn't pronounce my name as a child, "fear and pride will do nothing but kill you slow. Don't let it take something that could be the biggest blessing of your life." I was silent after that. I knew he knew I was taking it in. After he hung up all I could do was sit there with all of his regret, and pray that I didn't go down that same road. After a ton of praying and fasting, I finally took the leap of faith.

Keem wasn't a huge fan of big, elaborate weddings and neither was I. We just knew once God showed us that we were to be, all that mattered was us starting our lives together as husband and wife. It all seemed so surreal. I gathered my dad and my friends and headed for Savannah that very weekend, where they all had the chance to meet Hakeem's family. His grandmother, mother and two brothers were there to be his witnesses. They all thought us to be crazy, and it still blessed my heart to know we had their support nonetheless.

Even after we said "I do", Hakeem had a hard time helping me to adapt to having him around. "Dang, let me feel needed," he'd always say jokingly, at least during our lighter discussions on the topic. There had only been a couple of discussions that have turned into arguments, in which case I had to humble myself quite a bit to see his side. I had to realize that I wasn't alone anymore, and it was a fact that wasn't a problem. It wasn't exactly in a "woman is the weaker vessel" kind of way but in a "let me love you the way you deserve" kind of way. It turned out I had a husband whose love language was "acts of service" and "gift giving", while mine was "words of affirmation". We learned quickly that we were quite the pair.

August 2021 we moved to Augusta, Georgia. The firm opened a new office there and I was thrilled to get another promotion as a Chief Financial Officer. Both Hakeem and I were thrilled to move, as we both loved traveling and getting to know new places. Then shortly after our move he had to take a two-month long trip for work. Hakeem thrived as a photographer and a freelancing journalist, making it big in the blogging world. He's the right brain to my left. He landed a project in Detroit through a friend that he'd been talking about in excitement for weeks.

Though it might sound like a cliche, I missed him the moment he left. My joke about getting my independence back while he was gone quickly slapped me in the face. Three days felt like three years and I wanted to tell him to bring his tail back home. If it weren't for the office we'd just built I would have been right beside him. I reassured myself that two months would be over before I knew it. My heart refused to believe it. The best thing I could do was distract myself with work, fitness, and exploring our new city.

Since all of my friends lived back in Atlanta, I decided to go out alone just like the days before I got married. There was a twinge of sadness in me to do so but I pushed myself anyway. I'd already done my workout earlier that morning, so I told myself it was time to do something enjoyable. One thing I always loved to do was listen to jazz.

My father was a great musician back in his day, as he always said. He adored jazz and blues. I was often backstage at events he performed, from small house parties to concerts at different clubs and lounges. He used to say that my smile made anyone want to have me around even in places I shouldn't have been. Later I found out he either paid them or offered something for free. All I knew was I was hanging out with the grown-ups and listening to grown-up music.

I would watch them so closely in between playing with the dolls I brought with me. The melodic movements of their fingers on the keys, the body jolts from side to side bouncing with the rhythm of the music, the faces that let you know the funk in the room wasn't the smell of cigarette smoke and fried chicken wings, but an inner funk of the soul that release joy. I kept that with me even then, not understanding what it meant at the time. Over the years as my music taste shifted, jazz was always the music to stay consistent.

I drove myself to the Morris Museum of Art for Friday Jazz Night. It was something on my list of things to try with Hakeem but figured that for that night it would be the perfect distraction. I slipped into my tie dye one-shoulder body-con dress with a black half-vest, accompanied with the black heels strapped in gold chain. My neck was scented in Perfect by Marc Jacobs and dressed with a simple gold necklace weighted by a cross pendant. My diamond studs were recent gifts from the husband so I thought this was the right time to show them off.

I entered the establishment, my heels clicking along the marble flooring as I took in the seemingly traditional atmosphere. Beige colored walls lined with visual art of different varieties and artifacts laced along the walls. I stopped to check in at the reception desk, giving them my name as I had already registered online for the event. A wristband was placed on my right arm, and the older woman serving me gave a smile that made me feel as though I walked into a beauty spa. I returned the kind gesture and headed in the direction she was pointing.

My body melted as plucks of a bass met me during my walk into the large meeting hall. I smiled to myself turning into the room. Instantly, I was met with nostalgia and joy. Though the room was large and designed with a mixture of modernization and traditionalism, they didn't seem to have any issue giving it an urban feel. There was hanging portraits surrounding the room, all pieces that paid homage to musicians who made Jazz music what it was. Red Allen, Duke Ellington, Sam Morgan, and of course Mr. Louis Armstrong beamed strong in their black and white photos. The lighting was exceptional, no overhead lights but variations of red and purple pointed in every other direction with spotlights illuminating the master musicians on stage.

The center of the room was filled with round tables covered in red cloth and decorated with candlelit centerpieces. Since I'd been a bit late, most of them had already been filled. I spotted one that only sat one couple toward the left of the stage and made my way to it. Because the music was already serenading I made a quick gesture to the two across from me, making sure it was alright to sit there. They nodded with matching smiles and I took my seat. There were empty wine glasses already on the tables, resting on black napkins. Next to it was the program of the evening. I picked it up, looking over it only briefly before I heard it.

The saxophone. It was the first instrument to welcome in the next song. In that moment I felt like that child again at her daddy's show. I was mesmerized. I watched the keys dance under the man's fingertips and felt myself sinking more into the chair. I barely paid attention to the other instruments taking their place in the number. That song belonged to the sax. I closed my eyes and as my head swiveled and swayed with each note. Captivated. Completely. With my eyes leaving me to my imagination all I could see were dancing staffs, half and whole notes turning my brain into a nightclub.

What I felt was less pleasant. Though immersed in the music, there was but the tiniest twinge of something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. It was an uncertainty, a small prickling in my heart that I was not the only one in that moment. I didn't want to leave the date I had with the music but that feeling pulled my eyes open. I looked around the room subtly, nothing catching my attention right away. I told myself that maybe it was just the fact that I was out alone and missing my husband. Perhaps I was just being paranoid. I turned back to the stage to ignore it, only to find the pianist staring at me.

He was toward the back, stage right. His fingers kept moving on the keys like the instrument was playing itself. His body moved along with the tune, his silk black shirt a bit tight for his arms but still not stopping his groove. His head bobbed up and down rhythmically, a few stray braids dangling out of his man bun. His foot tapped on the pedals beneath the keyboard causing the opposite leg to move occasionally. All of him was in motion.

Except for his eyes. Dark. Not because of the room's ambience, but to have no other word to describe the intensity of his gaze on me. I tried to shake it off, turning to look at anyone but him. Again, this was my first outing of this capacity without my husband. I couldn't be a coward. My thoughts gave the benefit of the doubt that he was just watching how caught up I was in the moment. But the chill that crept up my back wouldn't disappear. I wasn't going to let it ruin my moment to enjoy myself. I ignored it, and him as I put my attention back on the show.