Yagga

My heart flutters as I finish sliding my size 7 foot into my new black, platform Givenchy heel. Nobody back home has anything like this. I bet they'd be jealous. I decided to pair it with the Baum und Pferdgarten, floral print dress I'd just received as gift from my father. It's black, silk cloth brushed against my skin coolly and sweetly. The airy garment stopped mid-thigh and it's tiny white and baby pink accents complimented my sunkissed, mocha colored skin nicely.

He has good taste. I blushed at the thought.

I eyed my wild, shoulder length coils closely, searching for an ounce of frizz or tangles.

Adonis, had offered to pay for an appointment with renowned hairstylist Andre Walker and I quickly declined. I haven't let anyone get close to head since the time I'd waken up with large sections of hair detached from my scalp, resting on my pillow next to me. My scalp had raw patches and burns as if I'd massaged Nair into it and let it sit as deep conditioner. This was after getting my hair done at a salon my aunt unrelentingly suggested I go to. I've been traumatized from that day forth.

I veered my eyes lower to examine my face. I couldn't determine if anyone would assume that my eyes were naturally that squinted and puffy or if they'd be able to tell I'd been up the entire night before.

Worried. Anxious.

My abdomen began to feel claustrophobic. My toned, athletic legs felt like unstable toothpicks beneath my medium frame.

I practiced inhaling and exhaling deeply in an attempt to tranquilize the poisonous fear creeping through my veins. I vehemently rubbed my knuckles over on another, while my fingers were looped through those on my other hand. Another "pacifying" mechanism I'd adopted to babysit my anxiety. My fingers were turning red. My palms too.

I examined my shaky hands, silently begging the anxiety attack I felt bubbling under my skin to go away. Not today. And not here.

I closed my eyes. I could hear my mother coaching me through my experience. "Breathe 'Lana baby. It's alright. Inhale. Exhale. Do it with me. Inhale. Exhale. That's it, 'Lana... 'Lana..."

"Lana Love?"

I heard Adonis' voice from the corridor of my bedroom. It startled me slightly.

I opened my eyes, looking into the mirror. I could see his reflection behind mine. I wondered how long he'd been there calling my name. How much he'd witnessed. Embarrassment swallowed my oxygen. A butterfly shaped blush, landed on my face. Lightly kissing my nose and then spreading across my cheeks like wildfire.

"You alright, love?" he asked making his way toward me. His lighthearted expression suddenly fading into genuine concern.

I looked up in the mirror and into his eyes. They were squinted and puffy like mine. My embarrassment intensified.

If I could read it on his face, they'd read it on mine too.

His arm swept across my shoulders, his hand curving, forming an awkward embrace. He smiled. "I must have good taste."

I thought I recognized a tear forming in his eye, but he laughed and wiped down the front of his face, erasing any trace of what would've been crying.

"You're just so beautiful." he carried on, stepping toward the exit. His lighthearted manner returned.

"Aye, how about we leave in 5 and stop and get sushi before the event?"

"You eat sushi, right?"

He was nervous. I could tell. It eased my fears a grave deal. "Yea." I replied through a giggle. "Imitation crab only, I..."

"Awe of course. I do not rock with them bottom feeders like that. They'll kill me." He flashed a bright, familiar smile. He shook his head slightly, and disappeared around the corner. I could make out his feet meeting his polished floors in such an odd and disoriented pattern. They were becoming fainter, and then I heard him whisper to himself, "That's my daughter..." As if he were in total awe.

That caused a recognizable smile to be display from my mouth. Identical to the one he'd flashed before he'd scurried from my doorway.

I took one more once over of myself in the mirror and took a big healthy breath. I wanted to ensure my presence was nothing short of astonishing as to not disgrace my father on his big day.

My father, still seemed foreign to mind.

I grabbed my Shea Butter lip gloss, my phone and its charger from my bed, grabbed my portable charger and my wallet. I put all of my collected items into my black Louis Vuitton hand bag. I dimmed the lights on my mirror, and sprayed a little Nicki Minaj Pink Friday into the space in between myself and my door before putting back in its place on my dresser and exiting my room.

Adonis stood before the massive, mahogany double doors that were the entryway into his enormous home. He was positioned in "parade rest," as if he'd been waiting for me to emerge from the second master bedroom suite he'd allowed me to have during my visits with him.

When I reached the doorway, he stood fully and handed me a single rose. He said this night was only special for him because he'd had his only daughter there with him. That made something inside me break.

Perhaps the barriers I'd put against any male or the distrust and fear that I'd manifested from assuming I was unworthy of his presence and that he'd leave me again. He'd drop me off back home and he'd leave me there forever, never returning. Eradicating my existence from his mind.

We'd gotten to the sushi place quicker than I'd assumed. We still had a hour and then some before the event so he decided it'd be fine for us to dine in.

We were seated, our food had arrived (rather faster than any other time I'd eaten at a restaurant.)

While we ate, we talked. I'd already known he was a writer, but we began to discuss some of his works like "The Why."

"The Why." was a book that he'd written to discuss certain controversial topics through a philosophical and psychological lens. Many excerpts from that writing were in the textbooks my school used for our psychology curriculum. I hadn't even known. I shared with him that I planned to fulfill a career in psychology. He seemed proud. I was excited to learn and share more. As we chatted and ate, I suddenly felt abundant joy and security. He felt extremely familiar. Like we'd known one another my entire life. I felt like I had a friend, forever in Adonis. My imagination wandered into itself, abandoning the conversation at the dinner table, and into the future. It was warm and pleasing but I had not always felt that way about this whole ordeal.

5 Months Prior

"A L A N A," I wrote overlapping at the top of my paper, above my Cornell style notes. We were going over the Nature vs Nurture debate. If a serial killer has a child, how likely is he to also become a serial killer? You know?, that of type junk. My eyes began scanning the "The Why." excerpt in my textbook. I read "Both," at the same time my instructor said it to his congregation of students.

Mr. Delgado was also a professor at a University. Although this was a very petty topic, he deemed it necessary to take before entering college. "Believe it or not, many freshmen entering University with a desire to pursue Psychology, have never heard of this famous debate," he responded to the groaning that echoed throughout the classroom.

Some believed him more than he'd assumed. Many didn't know themselves and eagerly took out their notebooks and black pens. I'd remained unfazed.

"Enrique, what do you think?" he asked a mixed gentlemen in the front row of seats, farthest to the left. The guy blinked up as if he weren't expecting to participate during the lecture. It wasn't out of laziness, he seemed to be in some distant place mentally.

Maybe the same place where I'd just been.

"Um," Enrique cleared his throat. "I believe-"

Mr. Delgado interrupted him, "I want you to write it down. As do I want all of you to do. Takes notes on the remaining portion of the chapter including any excerpts you may see pinned to the pages. As soon as you are finished, write down your own opinion on the notorious topic and tell me which percentage you believe may over power the other in regards to making anyone who they are today. Including yourselves. There are no write or wrongs answers here. This is for a grade."

A twinge of something pained me, witnessing the way he'd called upon him and immediately discarded his answer. All in under a minute.

The shook expression that quickly masked Enrique when he'd heard his name, gave me the feeling that the early dismissal might've been a relief though. I glanced up toward his direction and observed him attentively eyeing the books stacked on top of one another in front of him. The way his previously tense shoulders, now sloped down lackadaisically, I think I might've been right.

But, maybe Mr. D knew that. Due to age and wisdom and such. My eyes veered toward him suspiciously. Our sight locked into one another's and he pointed down at his desk. Work.

Jesus! The man's intuition is keen as as an owl's vision. I must be right about him too.

I began working but my mind drifted off to that far away place again. The assignment scheduled for after the reading had already infested my thoughts. How did I become the way I am? My mom is a nurse. She's intelligent but psychology isn't her thing. She likes working problems she can see. So why am I intrigued by our conscious'?

Even our looks differ to a degree..

"Yo, A?" I heard my best friend of two years, whisper.

Nani Castillo, a 5 foot 4 inch tall, baddie of Mexican and Black descent. She had curves in all the right places due to her mother's Caribbean background, and full, pouty lips and honey tinted tan colored skin she got from her father's Hispanic background.

The girl can curse like a sailor and has the brains of... well, me. Too smart for her own good, sometimes.

"What's up?" I respond.

"What Ms. D, cooking tonight?" she asked, her already voluptuous lips tooted up in suspense. Her tongue already tasting my mother's traditional Haitian dishes.

"Giiirl, Ion't know!," I said trying my hardest to maintain a whispering volume despite my laughter. "Pull through and find out. We can stu-"

"Miss Duvalier, is everything alright back there?" I look up and I see Mr. Delgado looking over his glasses eyeing, Nani and I. Embarrassment nearly struck me across the face but the clock above his head struck a quarter til the end of class, first. Relief protected me. I stacked my notebook on top my text book, gathering my things in preparation to leave.

"No-" I began. Nani chimed in.

"No Mr. D, dang!" Her volume became lower than it was when she'd began as if suddenly, she'd been possessed by a church mouse. "Calling my girl out like that."

She wouldn't ever admit it, but she'd definitely felt as if she'd been hazed in that moment. Although I was the person singled out, we were one in the same. Mutually.