[you should be] honored by my lateness

thank you yeezy

i am sick. but even worse, i’m late. for no better reason than for love. my mom always had us early to everything, a practice i instill daily. but here i am, speeding down the 10 freeway to try and get to hollywood in 45 minutes. oh, and my car just swerved. ding! low tire pressure left rear, restore pressure. hmm, can it wait? 

*swerve*

ok! maybe not! shit. 

i see your exit off the ten and pull across three lanes quickly to get off. i know all too well the two gas stations adjacent to your apartment. i’ve walked there many mornings before. i whip it to the back of the gas station at the air pump. my best friend taught me how to do this over four years ago, i smile remembering us giggling while she taught me. i love you, i whisper. but i’m not there, i’m here and i’m sick but worse, i’m late. i stick the air pressure pump on and see oh…11 PSI? that’s like…bad. i am bent over in all black trying to get this baby to 35. i’m sweating. it turns off in a triumphant huff and i hop back in to get on the road. 

twenty minutes earlier i was kneeling beside my bed looking at you. i am searching your big brown eyes and you are hiding something. i just don’t know what. but i know something is off and i should have left 15 minutes ago but i can’t move. and i am sick, but even worse, i’m late. 

i’ll tell you when you get back, you say and i want to scream. 

i have to go, i rush. and i am speeding down the 10 freeway releasing all my worry as fast as my tire is releasing air. 

i miss my exit but somehow park half a mile from the venue. i am downing watered down iced coffee and my throat feels like shards of glass. i am fast walking down sunset blvd, past the old amoeba record store and hightailing it with my coffee in hand. 

4 minutes away! i text to my lovely counterpart who’s patiently awaiting me among the stars. 

i’m only seven minutes late when i stumble upon the highly secured venue, people in all black stop me at every turn, “are you here for the event miss?” my throat is burning and my head feels like a balloon. yes uh, i’m one of the [redacted] for the event today. 

i am escorted to another line and a STAFF wristband is placed on me. the girl must sense my delusion because she greets me with warmth, “hi how are you?” she is calm and breezy but all i can think about is…i’m late. i get lost inside and my eyes must seem crazed because when i ask someone for the bathroom they look me up and down, “are you a [redacted]?”

 yes, yes i am, i croak. there’s no time for schmoozing and it feels like everyone is looking at me when i finally find the stage. my team is waiting there for me with about every movie snack possible and a box of water. i am beaming when i see him, ah yes a familiar face among these hollywood elites. i apologize for my lateness (kanye lyric comes to mind) and he brushes it off. the stars are aligned for me because it hasn’t even started. i’m able to catch my breath when the [redacted] comes to inform us that the “talent is late, as usual so we’ll start in 30.” 

anxiety melts away as i take in where i really am. i was so caught up in just getting here, and now that i’m here…whoa. my counterpart is wonderful and charming and fills the air with conversation as we patiently await showtime. and suddenly, the group of celebrities walks in and the bright lights are on and it’s now my turn, showtime. the lights are so bright i can’t see the audience which is at least one hundred deep. i’m thankful for this because if i can’t see anyone’s faces, i can’t be nervous. the sickness dulls all other senses and i think, have i eaten today? the hour passes in a blur and when the lights go off i lose my sight and he holds his hand out to guide me back. i clutch it with gratitude and i think, oh my god, i’m really doing this. just like that it’s over and i can’t wait to be in bed. we step into the stream of daylight on sunset blvd and walk on past the crowd, parking validation in hand (LA gold). the after party has begun and the drinks are free but all i can think about is the pillow that awaits my pounding head. 

monday morning rolls around and i wake up to a flat tire. i thank every lucky star it didn’t blow up on the 10 and you kiss me awake. we hashed everything out the night before and why does a relationship feel like it deepens after a misunderstanding? i laugh at the flat tire and you smile at me. you calmly go to your car where you just so happen to have a portable air compressor. we drive it to the tire shop to patch it up and enjoy acai bowls underneath the monday sun. we hold hands and bless the bowls and i am a floating lucky star. and so what that i’m sick, and so what that i was late, and so what that my tire was flat. because being together feels as though there are no bad days, there is no worry, there is just us. 

and i’ll be late for that (kanye lyric)