Chapter Ten #3
Sometimes both.
He thinks he’s slick.
He’s not.
He thinks because he can hack a phone,
trace a threat,
find a ghost,
and ruin a perfectly mediocre date
with a pack of Depends,
that he understands access.
But forced access ain’t intimacy.
And baby,
I had to tell him.
Robot,
you don’t get to override a woman
just because your heart
finally learned how to reboot.
The room burst out laughing.”
“But here’s the thing.
He’s learning.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
Dial-up slow.
But he’s learning.
He asks now.
Mostly.
He pauses now.
Sometimes.
He hears me now
even when I’m speaking fluent attitude.
And that matters.
Because I’ve been loved badly before.
Not always by lovers.
Sometimes by blood.
Sometimes by people
who were supposed to know
that a girl isn’t a burden
just because she needs feeding.
I’ve been left
in rooms where I should’ve been protected.
I’ve been blamed
for hands that reached for me.
I’ve been told
my survival made me shameful
by people who should’ve been ashamed
to let me survive alone.
So when a man looks at me
like I’m not a cautionary tale,
like I’m not a secret,
like I’m not the sum total
of every night
I had to save myself,
it does something to me.
When he sees the ice
and doesn’t call me cold,
when he sees the sword
and doesn’t ask me to drop it
before proving his hands are safe,
when he sees the lavender
growing through concrete
and says,
‘Let me be soft ground,
if you ever get tired,’
it does something to me.
Now don’t get me wrong.”
Lane turned toward Lennox with a pointed look.
“This man is still a menace.
A walking warranty issue.
A cybercriminal
with pretty teeth
and too much audacity.
He needs supervision,
a hobby,
and possibly a federal case manager.
But he’s mine.”
The crowd screamed while Lennox laughed so hard he braced one hand on the table. Lane grinned, feeling unbridled joy that erased how terrified she always felt when she first stepped on a stage.
The room continued to react with a wave of cheers and oooohs rolling toward the stage.
She noticed Lennox watching her in complete admiration.
Lane’s own heart startled at the word mine, but she didn’t take it back.
She thought about that clip; she and Nova had laughed over a hundred times, Steve looking at a woman like she needed spiritual guidance over her man, and the woman standing ten toes down anyway. Lane pointed at Lennox.
“Look at my man.
I know.
He’s problematic.
He’s dramatic.
He’s one bad decision away.
from being tried by a jury of my girlfriends.
But he’s mine.
And I’mma stick beside him.”
The room exploded again. The joke had opened the door, but the truth was quieter and more intimate. Lennox’s hand went to his chest like she’d shot him clean through it, making Lane laugh into the mic, shaking her head as she looked directly in his eyes, “I said beside, not behind. Don’t start.”
“I met a man
who scares me
because he makes softness
feel possible.
Not easy.
Not safe all at once.
But possible.
And for a woman like me,
possible is no small thing.
Possible is a window opening
in a room you thought
only had walls.
Possible is being held
and not reaching for the exit.
Possible is telling the truth
and watching somebody get angry
with you instead of tired of you.
Possible is breakfast after a sincere apology.
A quarterly donation
with boundary issues.
A dinner table
that smells like lavender.
A poem called Unencrypted
from a man who’s spent his whole life
speaking in code.
So here’s mine.
Unrehearsed.
Unpolished.
Unarmored.
I don’t know
what we’re becoming.
I only know
that tonight,
under these lights,
with my heart acting like
it doesn’t remember
who raised it,
I looked at that man.
and thought,
There you are.
Not perfect.
Not healed.
Not easy.
But trying.
And Lord help me,
I’ve always had a weakness.
for impossible things
that bloom anyway.”
Lane lowered the mic. The room rose again. Not just clapping. They were shouting. Fingers snapping. Some laughing and some crying. The host pressed one hand to her chest and shook her head as she’d just witnessed a baptism and a roast at the same time.
Lane stood there breathing hard with her eyes locked on Lennox.
He didn’t move at first. He only stared at her, eyes shining in a way that made every joke inside her go quiet.
Then he crossed the room as the crowd parted for him like they’d been waiting for this part too.
He reached the stage but didn’t climb up.
He stood at the edge, looking up at her like she’d rewritten him in real time.
Lane looked down at him, still holding the mic.
“What?” she asked, voice catching slightly.
Lennox shook his head, smiling like something inside him had broken open and healed in the best way.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just witnessing.”
The mic picked it up. The room sighed so dramatically Lane almost laughed. Almost. Instead, she stepped down from the stage, going straight into his arms. Lennox held her carefully. Reverently. Lane didn’t think about escape. She thought about what could be possible.