10. Sonny
Sonny
How long does it take to get used to the noises a home makes?
The creaks of the floorboards, the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees outside the windows, and the hum of the furnace turning on.
The little noises that when you’re lying awake at night make it that much harder to fall asleep. How long does it take?
Clearly more than a couple weeks.
It’s late and I have to be up early in the morning so I should be knocked out already, but here I am laying in my bed, wide awake staring at the ceiling in the dark because my mind refuses to settle and allow me to sleep.
I let out a frustrated groan and toss the covers back to stand from the bed.
I slide my bare feet into the slides I leave by my bed and walk to the kitchen.
There’s enough moonlight shining in from the windows that I don’t bother turning on any lights as I go.
I yank open the fridge and examine the contents, even though it’s fully stocked I don’t really want anything from it.
I let out another deep sigh as I grab a bottle of water from one of the shelves and close it back.
Instead of going back to my room to fail at my attempts to fall asleep, I go to the living room and take a seat at my piano.
Laila made fun of me for caring more about choosing a piano than anything else in my home here, but I already knew I was going to hire an interior designer to figure out all of the other things to make the space look pretty and put together and they did a great job.
A piano isn’t a necessity for most, but on nights like these I’m happy that I went out of my way to prioritize it.
My lyric journal rests open on the music shelf of my piano where I left it from the last time I sat here, the page filled with scribbled out words from the song I have been trying to piece together for weeks now.
I have written hundreds of songs in my life, all of them haven’t been good, hell most of them will never even see the light of day.
But others I am able to contribute to my success as an artist, or have been picked up by other artists to record and release for themselves.
In general songwriting is something that has always come easy to me.
Usually it only takes a few days from when I get that spark of inspiration for a song to get to a place where I’m happy with it.
But not this one. For some reason every direction I try to take this song in just doesn’t feel right yet it’s still stuck in my head.
I have listened to a bunch of beats to try to spark inspiration, but nothing has helped the lyrics flow.
I set my phone on the music shelf next to the lyric journal and run my fingers over the keys of the piano.
I play a few notes and then fall into a made up melody, without any rhyme or reason or particular end goal, just playing whatever feels right.
As time passes I try to work on the song that’s been stuck in my head, but I hate every direction I try and end up in the same place that I started.
My phone buzzes and the screen illuminates with the notification.
laila
I had a long day, I’ve been trying to put the finishing touches on this collection.
A second later another text comes in.
laila
Sorry for the late reply, I’m a terrible texter.
Since that first message I sent to Laila, we have consistently kept up a conversation.
This afternoon I had asked her how her day was going, but she hadn’t replied until now.
I pick up my phone, unlocking it and opening the message.
I start to type out a response but then change my mind, deleting the words I previously typed and instead initiating a FaceTime.
It’s a risky decision to start an unprompted FaceTime especially at this time of night and with someone that you don’t know super well, but I silently pray it works in my favor.
The call rings for a while and I am sure that it’s going to go unanswered until at the last moment the call connects. The camera is pointed towards the ceiling of a dimly lit room.
“You know it’s rude to FaceTime someone out of nowhere,” Laila says from somewhere off the screen.
“My bad,” I apologize. “You said you were a bad texter, so I thought this would be easier for you.
Laila picks up the phone and her face comes on to the screen. Her hair is wrapped in a bonnet and her face is bare, but she’s no less beautiful than any other time that I’ve seen her.
“I guess that’s fair,” Laila says, her tone softer than before. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”
I run a hand over my hair. “I had some trouble sleeping so I was playing around on the piano for a bit.”
“Working on something in particular?”
“Trying to,” I say with a chuckle. “It hasn’t been going so well.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to you,” Laila replies. “Maybe it’s just not the right time for it.”
I nod in understanding, knowing that she’s probably right, even though it’s not the answer that I want to hear.
“You weren’t up late working this whole time were you?” I ask knowing that she was probably doing just that.
In the small time that I’ve known Laila, she’s expressed just how important her career is to her and she works hard at it because of it.
“No, I was watching TV and then I remembered I needed to fix something on the website before it goes live. I was doing that when I remembered I never responded to your message.”
“Left a nigga on delivered all day,” I say joking.
Laila rolls her eyes, but a small smile peaks out of her annoyance.
“In all seriousness, I can tell how much you care about the brand, I just hope you’re taking care of yourself as well,” I say.
“It’s our first launch of the year and it’s also the biggest one we’ve ever done, so I want to make sure it’s perfect. But now that’s done and I’m watching tv.”
I stand from the piano, knowing that I’m not going to get any further with the song and walk back towards my bedroom. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I don’t want to get in the way of your show.”
In my room I turn on the lamp on my bedside table and climb back into my bed, sitting with my back against the headboard.
“It’s not a bother,” Laila says. “I’ve seen this show a bunch of times, this is the state championship episode.”
“Wait, why are you watching it if you’ve already seen it before?” I ask.
“It’s comforting, I like knowing what’s going to happen. And I already know I like the show so I don’t have to watch a bunch of episodes just for the writers to ruin it in the last season.”
Laila flips the screen on her phone so I can see the episode she’s watching. She starts telling me about each of the characters and the premise of the show until eventually we’re just watching the episode together.
***
“Mannn look who finally brought his ass back to town.”
I look around for the man behind the voice until my eyes land on my friend Chris across the gym. He has a big goofy grin on his face as I walk over to him and the other guys sitting on the bleachers in the gym. When I get close Chris and I dap each other up in greeting.
“Only your loud mouth ass would have this much energy at 5 in the morning,” I joke back at Chris.
“Nigga it’s good to see you, I thought Chris was lying when he said you were gonna join in on the game,” Malik says as I dap him up too.
Chris has had his unserious, class clown personality since we were kids growing up together.
His family lived down the street from mine when we were in middle school so we often spent a lot of time at each other’s houses.
Malik joined our friend group in high school and we have stayed friends ever since, staying connected mainly through social media when I was in LA.
Malik and Chris were two of the few people I personally invited to the Oasis soft launch and it had been a good time hanging out with them again.
When Chris invited me to join in on their weekly basketball sessions with some other guys they knew, I gladly accepted.
Chris introduces me to the other guys in the gym and I acknowledge them all. I set my duffel bag down on one of the bleachers on the sideline and take out my sneakers to replace the slides I wore into the gym.
“Deuce is sick,” Chris says. “So Sonny can take his spot on your team Malik.”
“Let’s get it,” I say.
I finish tying my shoes and stand from the bleachers to join some of the guys already on the court warming up.
***
“That’s game,” Chris says after one of his teammates makes a layup.
After two games the score is split 1-1. We all walk over towards our bags to get some water and take a small break.
I haven’t played a full game of basketball in years, so this break is much needed. I take a long swig of water from my water bottle and take a seat on the bleachers to catch my breath.
Malik looks down at his watch checking the time and then grabs his bag, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Aight I gotta head out,” Malik says.
“Tapping out early cause you know your team won’t win that next one,” Chris says.
“Nah, I gotta get home before baby girl wakes up. I want Jess to be able to sleep in.”
“Damn, Malik is in full on dad mode,” I joke. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
Malik pulls out his phone and shows me the picture on his lock screen. A chunky, smiling baby with warm mahogany skin and only her two front teeth.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Man, it’s true what they say about finding your person. Baby girl and her mom are my whole world.”
When we were younger, Malik was the guy who never stayed in a relationship for long and had no interest in settling down, and now he has a fiancée and a beautiful daughter.
Growing up, I saw firsthand what love looked like through my parents' relationship. They loved each other deeply and it made me want that for myself but I haven’t found it just yet.
My mind goes to Laila, something I’ve found myself doing a lot lately. I stayed up way too late talking on the phone with her last night, and I should regret it based on how tired I am now. But I don’t. I enjoyed the simplicity of talking with her and hearing about one of her favorite tv shows.
Chris chest passes me the ball and I catch it, caught off guard and knocked out of my thoughts.
“Let’s get this last game going.”