Under The Sunset Series: Lexi

The work day ended around 3pm. 

She quickly closed her laptop and put it underneath the Octavia Butler book collection her sister gifted her for Kwanzaa. She thought about the "more reading, more Riesling" resolution she set for herself at the top of the new year which, well, she has yet start. “Tomorrow,” she thought. She was tired of looking at words on screens and words on papers simultaneously. Her brain was overloaded with her stifled routine. She wished work could be socially distant too. She wished she could live a life of luxury sustained by her passions. But she's caught in the pyramid scheme of  repaying her ivy league whitewashed degrees on loan. 

She gets up from her desk, takes off her Elie Tahari suit jacket, revealing her Clay Organic French Terry Cloth Romper she had gotten from her mother for Kwanzaa. The romper was the same color clay as her sheets. She runs to her bedroom and falls face down on the bed. Chameleon-izing herself in her sheets. Her brown skin has its moment to stand alone in spite of the adornment of clothing and accessories.

She hated having to throw on a suit jacket everyday to feed the narcissism of corporate America. Since quarantine, she hasn’t been protective styling her 4c hair. At most she finger plucks the flat side she slept on the night before and hops onto the Zoom meeting looking like Angela Davis’s 1974 autobiography cover. She peeps the inquisitive side eye glances from her colleagues. Mary Anne even private messaged her and said, 

"Power to the people Lexi!!!!!!!! You rocking that hair girlfriend!!!!!!!!! I wish I could do my hair like that!!!!!!!!!!" 

Mary Anne was store brand woke with sleep in her eyes and similac on her breath. 

That gave her an instant migraine. That and all those exclamation points. She didn't reply.

She’s been thinking a lot about applying for disability when outside opens back up because the post traumatic stress of this century is real and going back into the office like shit is sweet is not going to work for her.

She turns over to look at the ceiling. “Alexa, play Ari Lennox.” The only consistent conversations she has these days are with Alexa and Siri. She calls them the Ying Yang twins. She does have a virtual wine down with her friends monthly. Last month she declared, "I ain't wearin' bras no mo!" Underwear is her thing though. She prefers them over pants any day. “Underwear is the cooter cat’s N95 mask” she told her friends , “FDA approved.”

Ari begins to sing, “I been low before...oh yea I’ve been low before” she looks at the ceiling wondering if she’s depressed. "What is depression really but a made up concept of varying thought processes?" she thought. Her mother asked her if she was depressed during their Sunday check-in call and its been on her mind all week. "Depressed? Me? Nah. I’m alone not lonely Ma. There’s a difference.”

She is 39. 

She’ll be 40 in 4 months. 

Job.

Apartment.

Car.

Single. 

No kids. 

“Ma, I think the most depressing part is defending myself to people who say I’m depressed because I am single with no kids.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all Lexi. I am your mother, I know you very well, and I know when something isn’t right in you. But if you say you’re ok all I can do is ask Oshun for her covering.”

She gets up and heads to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of 19 Crimes. No glass needed. This was a drink right out of the bottle evening. She heads into the living room. The living room is her favorite room in her apartment. It’s the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the lake that stimulates all her aesthetic senses. She watches the sunset most nights from her sectional. 

What more could a girl ask for, right?

She felt selfish for not being content. 

For being unhappy.

She sat under her weighted throw.

Looking out her window.

Waiting.
Sipping.

Looking.
Waiting.
Ari serenading.

Sipping.
Waiting.

Crying.

Praying...

for the answers under the sunset.