The inner city polluted air was filled with car horns and police sirens. A chaotic scene, that was nothing new in the city streets of San Francisco. Lately, Shareef’s mind had been even more chaotic. He rushed past traffic in a hurry. He was trying to make sure he could get his spot at the vibrant hipster coffee shop he frequented. He burst through the door into a world of chatter, laughs, and what sounded like neo soul/jazz. He tried to calm himself and look cool, just in case she was already in the café. He didn’t even want to look over where she normally sat; anxious as he was. He walked up to the counter real smooth like, to place his order, “coffee, black, two sugars”. Sure enough his seat was open. The seat was right in the corner by the window facing the street, where the freaks of the week pay their cost to live in the city. These people happened to be his inspiration and an aspiring poet needs his steady flow of coffee, ideas, and, inspiration. He pulled out his laptop and tried to look inconspicuous.
Man this girl got me trippin’ right now, Shareef thought to himself. I should just write all my poems about her. Just as the thought crossed his heart, the door swung open and it was her. Her almost honey brown tone, light brown eyes, sultry voice, made him want to astral project out of his body. On cue his cell phone went off. It was a text:
Omar: Wsup you finally going to speak to her? Or you still acting scary??
Shareef: I’m holla don’t trip
Omar: Thought you was a playa lol
Shareef had been seeing this young lady come into his spot for about a month now. She had no ring, always sat by herself, right across from Shareef, one table away, laptop out, typing away. Shareef had already pictured himself marrying this woman, how many kids they would have, white picket fence, two-story house; the middle-class American dream. He had the whole spiel down. “Look baby, if we got each other that’s all we would ever need, we don’t need to be rich to be happy”. And she would say, “I’m perfectly happy with what I got”. He often daydreamed about taking her to the pier and walking under the stars. Or taking her to a fancy restaurant; both of them in their best clothes. He would have on a tailored suit and she would be in her nicest gown.
Today is the day, he thought. This woman is so fine, somebody has got to holla. Shareef started practicing lines in his head. Ay lil mamma… No that’s not going to work. Excuse me miss, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a city like this. Then smile. No that’s weak too. How about? Do you mind if I sit with you? Oouuh. That’s smooth right there. But what if she is like Rachel. Aaah. Nothing like the first love. You know how that went. She was a fool. Or maybe I was the fool for falling for her. Game goofy. She does kind of look like Rachel, too. Shareef laughed to himself.
I’ma just do it tomorrow. There is always tomorrow. Astaghfirullah. Tomorrow is not promised. This is starting to mess with my faith, faith in myself, and faith in my religion. Let’s go, man up. Why can’t things be like back in the day? Boom! Send a note. Talk to her guardian. Let them know I want to marry their daughter or sister, whatever. Then it’s on and crackin. Matter of fact, what’s up with an arranged marriage? Shareef’s phone went off again.
Omar: What’s good? You do that?
Shareef: Say no more.
Shareef took some deep breaths and counted to ten. He got up from his chair. His heart was beating out of his chest as he began to make his way. If this thing didn’t come together as he had planned in his head, it could get awkward. If she said no, would they be able to handle this as adults; no harm, no foul. If she said yes, and they went out, and didn’t hit it off, then what? Would he have to find a new coffee shop? Or would she stop coming? After all he was coming here before her…
Well here goes. “No risk, no reward” and “fortune favors the bold”, he told himself. I don’t care if I sound nervous, my voice cracks or anything. As long as I say something today. He didn’t know if this was going to lead to a never-ending love story or heartbreak but to him it was do or die.
“Hey, I’m kind of nervous coming over here.” Shareef said. “But I just have to say something. I see you come in here every day and I think you are beautiful. Can I sit with you and talk?”
She looks at him with her long eyelashes fluttering. Almost like a gorgeous deer caught in headlights at first, as if she was just as nervous, or like she was trapped in her thoughts as well. She pulls down the top of her laptop and in the softest voice she says, “Yea, why not?”
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