How I Met Him
How I Met Him
After I packed up the last of my English teaching material, I went home and cried my eyes out. I had no job and I created beautiful bonds with some teachers and students. The mourning stage didn’t last long. It’s the summertime! It’s the first time in my life I’m stable and can have some fun. The last time I was jobless and having fun during the summer was when I was a kid. My child-like nature wanted to explore and enjoy my summer.
Stress is one of the leading causes of eczema breakouts. I have eczema patches under my knees, elbows and noticeably on my neck. Often, I look at pictures on my phone and document how bad my eczema worsened over the school year. I miss my clear skin but I didn’t let my eczema-prone skin stop me from looking good. To build some confidence in myself, I began filming how to choose my outfits for any public event I went to. I scroll on Instagram and watch Get Ready with Me videos from Instagram Influencers. I wanted to make similar videos so I made my first video and went to the event.
While searching for music teaching positions, I called a principal I met recently. We haven’t talked in months but he sent me an email. I had to call him and see if he had some positions open for me. He told me to wait so that’s that. I talked to the head band director the same day because I needed more information about the school. During my teaching breaks, I researched the school’s staff directory and discovered that they have a music teacher. His biography on the website was hilarious, but I needed to know whether this school was going to hire me. When the application opened, I submitted my application and discovered that the school was hosting a concert in town. A student-led concert in town? There’s not many of those. I dressed casually and went to the concert.
For some context, Tulsa is racially divided. On the East side, it’s populated by Hispanic and Mexican people. Lots of lowdown stores, some taco trucks and restaurants and bachata music as you drive by. The North side, where my old workplace was, has a food desert. There’s a KFC, Church’s Chicken and empty store lots. People blasting rap and driving very erratically through the school buildings. I live on the South side of town, right next to one of the biggest shopping centers. Lots of greenery and white people stare at you like you don’t belong here. People from the South side travel to Downtown for drinks, casual hangout with friends and family, and attend the free events on the weekends. The location of this concert was in the corner of Downtown. I expected at least one more Black person, behold I was the only one. I waited for the concert to start and enjoyed the middle school set.
The music instructor led the students in every song and they sounded amazing. Some were off-key and played one chord throughout the song. I analyzed the director the whole time; Once again, this was a networking event. As the concert continued, more people showed up and unironically, I was the only person of color within the primarily white school event. I couldn’t care too much. I was there to learn about the school environment.
I stood by the wall, in front of the stage. I gave some space towards children and families I’ve never seen. I was next to an Hispanic dad and his small elementary daughter ran to the stage and around the place during the event. After I dodged my little missile past me, a guy with a camera stood next to me. I offered my spot to him and asked if he got the girl on the piano in his camera.
I didn’t think too much of his presence. I did notice his tattoos on his fingers and he was potentially a person of color. I was a little elated that another person like me was there.
“Hey, are you a student here?” I asked close to him. The concert was loud where we were.
“Nah, the music instructor is my roommate. I record his events when he has one.”
I was surprised and continued the conversation, “Oh cool, I applied for a music job here. I hope I get in.”
He continued, “Oh, this is his last performance. I guess you could take his job.”
Everything clicked. The name of the concert and the reason why the middle school performed first. I smirked knowing that I could be the one conducting the middle school and high school band to victory.
We continued talking and he showed me some artwork. It is abstract, weird-looking like Basquait and some film to match the vibe.
I wondered and pointed to his phone, “Where did you get that painting from?”
He smiled, chuckled and said, “I made it.”
Reader….I think this is when it happened. We never met before this moment. Yet, we had something in common: creativity. He didn’t know I drew like him. We didn’t know each other. But, this was the best place to meet right?
I was shell-shocked but decided to formally introduce myself, “My name is Alisha.”
I put my hand out for a handshake and we shook hands, “Name’s Devi.” (That’s not his name, that’s what I thought he said, so we’re going to stick with it.)
I decided to follow him around the venue, with his permission, and watch the high schoolers perform. We went to the top of the venue and I lay my head down on the railing. I was getting hungry and continued my quest of the analysis of this small band program. In the corner of my eye, I saw Devi frantically going through his phone. Going on different apps and doesn’t seem focused. After doing whatever on his phone, he would take small glances at me until I noticed. Reader……I think he felt the spark, too.
He grabbed a beer, I got his contact information and we went our separate ways.
