|
ONE LOVE
by Bill Holmes
 One Love tells the story of Chris, a handsome poet,
who’s struggling to find inspiration to write while
wrestling with corporate politics and the drama of an
unfulfilling relationship. While Regina, a beautiful
accountant, feeling frustrated with her career and the
dating scene, secretly yearns to re-embrace her heart’s
desire: singing. A chance encounter between these thirty
something commuters one summer evening reveals this is a
small world where poetry, family, friendship, and love
unite in Philadelphia.
ISBN: 0-9722990-4-1
ISBN: 978-0-9722990-4-6
Publication Date:
May 1, 2006
Paperback; 255 pages
Trim: 5.5 x 8.5
Qty/Case: 30
Retail $15.00
CHAPTER ONE
CHRIS
This was the fifth time this month I had seen her aboard the R3 Regional
Rail at the Lansdowne Station. I didn’t know who she was, but every time I
saw her, the more I came to the conclusion I knew her from someplace. Our
paths had crossed before, but I had no idea where and when.
She always looked sharp going to work, and today was no exception. The one
thing about her, which always turned me on, was the confidence in her
stride. There was something so commanding about the way she walked, like
Maxine Shaw from Living Single. I wasn’t sure if she was an attorney, but
she had that elegant, classy beauty like Vanessa L Williams. The linen khaki
business suit she was sportin’ on this humid June morning worked well
against her cinnamon complexion. Her auburn shoulder length hair she usually
wore down was pinned up.
Uh oh, she must have realized I’d been checking her out because she made eye
contact with me. The quizzical look on her face told me she thought she
might know me, too. But she wasn’t certain either. She sat down in the empty
seat across the aisle from me, next to the balding white guy sleeping
against the window.
“Hi,” I said.
“Good morning,” she replied.
She pulled out her BlackBerry and I went back to writing in my journal. I
had enough problems with women. I was already going to catch all sorts of
hell from my girlfriend, Veronica, when I got to work this morning. It
wasn’t cool to leave her high and dry the way I did after our argument
Friday night. To make matters worse, I hadn’t called her all weekend. She
was going to be pissed off big time.
Ronnie and I had hooked up three months earlier. We met for the first time
when she came into my department one day to deliver a file to my supervisor
regarding a bankruptcy case. Pretty soon, when we ran into each other in the
elevator and the break room, we were exchanging small talk. Small talk led
to us having lunch, and then, before you know it, we were dating.
I don’t know when and how our relationship went from sugar to shit. Why was
I still involved with her? My heart wasn’t there. I was much more consumed
with trying to complete my new book of poetry and a spoken word CD project.
But I couldn’t do either. I had the worse case of writer’s block and no
matter how hard I tried, no fresh ideas were coming to me.
Pete, the R3 conductor, made his way into the car. “Next stop, University
City. Please have all tickets and passes out for final inspection.”
I retrieved my pass from my wallet while Pete made his way down the aisle
making small talk with the passengers.
Pete extended his fist towards me. “What’s up, Poet?”
I gave him some dap. “Nothin’ to it. How about yourself?”
“Just another day, another dollar.”
“I hear you, brah,” I said. “Just trying to get some creativity flowing
before I get to work.”
“No doubt, Poet. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later,” I said, watching Pete depart towards the rear of the car.
As I placed my wallet back into my suit jacket, I noticed the sistah sitting
across from me was staring in my direction. She exchanged a friendly smile
and went back to messing around with her BlackBerry.
“Excuse me, Miss?” I asked.
“Yes, can I help you?” she replied.
“Please forgive me for saying this, but you look familiar.”
“Is that a line you say to every lady you meet on the train?”
“No, it’s not like that at all. I know I’ve seen you somewhere before and I
feel embarrassed because I don’t know where.”
“Relax, I’m joking with you. Honestly, I was thinking the same thing when I
saw you.”
“Okay, I see where you’re coming from.”
She chuckled. “What’s your name?”
I extended my hand to shake hers. “Chris Harrington.”
She took my hand into a firm, but gentle shake. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”
“And yours?”
“Regina Simmons.”
“Pleasure meeting you, Regina.” Hmmm, now why did her name sound so
familiar?
Pete came walking down the aisle when the R3 came to a stop at University
City. I stood up from my seat to let the passenger sitting to my left get
off the train with the departing commuters. As I sat back down, Regina
gestured to me with her eyes to slide over to the next seat while grabbing
her belongings to sit by my side before any new passengers came aboard.
After the train pulled away from the platform, Pete came through the doors
and walked down the aisle, announcing to everyone that the next stop would
be 30th Street Station.
“So, Chris, you’re a poet?” Regina inquired.
“Check you out, girl. Got your nose all up in the Kool Aid and don’t know
the flavor of the punch?”
She laughed. “You got me. I like poetry and I think poets are cool. Do you
mind if I take a peek?” She pointed to my journal.
“I’m not finished with this piece yet, and uncomfortable sharing incomplete
poems.”
“Well, you don’t have to share that poem. Why don’t you recite something
from the top of your head?”
I laughed and she gave me a what’s-so-funny look.
“Well, I’m kinda on the bit of the shy side and…”
“You’re not a poet, Chris; you’re a playa. I see the game you and your
buddy, Pete, are trying to run aboard this train to the ladies.”
“You’re funny, Regina. Are you always this comical first thing in the
morning?”
“No, not really. I’m a riot at the office after my third cup.”
“You drink three cups of coffee? Damn, that’s a lot of caffeine.”
“Some people are addicted to smoking and to drugs. I’m addicted to…” Regina
paused. She had noticed the male passenger sitting in front of us
eavesdropping in on our conversation. He turned his head towards the right
and stopped typing on his laptop. She cleared her throat loudly while
bulging her eyes wide open.
“Would you please mind your damn business?” she told him.
No, she didn’t do that. He turned his head around and did so without
uttering a word in response. I couldn’t help cracking up. Neither could she.
“Anyway, back to you, Chris, before we were so rudely interrupted. How do I
know you’re a poet and not a playa?”
I handed her my journal. “Would you like to read what I wrote so far?”
“No, that’s okay. How about I give you a topic and you recite the first
thing which comes into your head.”
“Bet!” I returned, full of confidence.
“Okay. Azaleas.”
“Azaleas?” Damn, this was going to be a tough one. I stroked my goatee and
thought for a deep moment. Why the hell did she pick that word? Regina
stared at me. I took a deep breath and responded to her request.
Azaleas bloom
beneath the sunrise
that welcomes the arrival
and the promise of a new day
when divine intervention flows
from the tree of Life
into the ties that bind us
in the joy of friendship.
Regina smiled. “It was beautiful and deep.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve got some skills, Chris, but I think Pete is wrong about calling you
a poet. You’re more like a poet-in-training because you hesitated for a good
minute before you finally got your words together.”
“Damn, Regina, I prove my lyrical talent and creative skills and now you
gonna bust my stones!”
“Now I know you’re a poet because ‘you are ‘sensitive about yo’ stuff’!”
“Okay, Erykah Badu!”
Regina laughed and twirled the silver dolphin pendant hanging around her
neck.
“Your pendant is lovely. Where did you get it from?”
“Thank you. I bought this last summer at a marketplace in Ocho Rios,
Jamaica.”
“Really? I went to Montego Bay last summer in June. First time there and had
a ball.”
“Me, too. My girlfriends and I went there for our annual All-Girls Getaway
the entire week before Labor Day. We’ve done it every year for the past four
years. Pick a destination, pack our things and head off to the islands for
some fun in the sun. It was a week to remember.”
“I bet it was.”
“And what are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Regina shook her index finger. “Yeah, right! You don’t get off that easy,
Chris.”
“I’m just making an observation about what you said.”
“So, you’re making an observation about my girlfriends and I being in
Jamaica for an annual getaway from the stress and the men in our lives?” She
paused for a moment. “Wait a minute, aren’t they one and the same?”
I waved my hands. “Ouch!”
As the train came to a complete stop, the next wave of commuters made their
departure. I was known for putting my foot in my mouth from time to time and
not wanting this to be one of those times, I silently prayed while waiting
for Regina’s response.
She playfully rolled her eyes at me and murmured, “Hmmm.”
“I felt the same way when I went to Jamaica alone.”
“You went to Jamaica by yourself? Yeah, right!”
“I did go to Jamaica by myself…for a personal retreat.”
“I bet it was.”
“And just what are you trying to imply?”
“I can’t imagine going away by myself to another country, not unless I was
trying to hook up with an exotic, Caribbean lover, like Terry McMillan’s
character in How Stella Got Her Groove Back. Were you looking to get your
groove back with a fine Jamaican sistah, my brotha?” Regina asked, raising
her eyebrows.
“Isn’t it a little too early in the morning for your mind to be in the
gutter, Ms. Simmons?”
Regina released a soft laughter that was a sweet melody to my ears. I told
myself to relax because…one, I had a girlfriend, although things were rocky,
though it’s always nice to keep our options open, and two, the shape of her
full lips accentuated by her red lipstick and perfect white teeth was making
my dick hard.
Once again, Pete made his way through the doors as the train left 30th
Street Station. He announced that Suburban Station would be our next step.
Regina placed her briefcase in the empty space between us.
“Are you getting off here?” she asked.
“No, not until Market East at the Gallery.”
Regina stood up in the aisle, placed her purse over her left shoulder and
grabbed the briefcase with her right hand. “Well, it was nice to meet you,
Mr. Harrington. I hope you have a good day.”
“You, too. Don’t work too hard.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Hope to see you around.”
“Maybe…we’ll see, Chris. You never know,” she teased, flashing her gorgeous
smile. “Take care of yourself.”
“You do the same,” I said.
Regina made her way to the front of the car, turned around and waved
goodbye. I still couldn’t remember where I’d seen her prior to today, but so
much about her was familiar, especially her smile. Her identity would
probably come to me later on, and I had a feeling our paths would cross
again, at the very least on the R3 train.
|
|
