![\"photo](\"http:\/\/kalamu.com\/neogriot\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/03\/DSC_0044x.JPG.scaled1000.jpg\")
<\/a>photo by Alex Lear<\/strong><\/span><\/p><\/div>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n When Sunny Gets Blue<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s who that was,\u201d Jordan whispered to himself. Once again his mother’s advice proved accurate. In time all things are revealed to those who are patient enough to wait, and wise enough to look and listen while doing so.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Mister\u00a0voice\u00a0stood next to Sonni, tilting toward the microphone, a tenor saxophone hanging around his neck. The guy seemed average. Nothing special. In fact, was a little gaunt. That wiry build distance runners display: slightly sunken cheeks, scrawny arms whose tight weave of skin, sinew, taunt muscle and bone resemble ropes used to rig sailboats. Undoubtedly his legs were equally skinny. Even though he appeared to be in his thirties, he probably could still wear his high school clothes.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIndigo Sol, yall. Ms. Indigo Sol. Show her some love.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The fourteen or so people in The Jazz Room clapped enthusiastically. Jordan raised his empty glass, motioning to the waitress for another drink. When she came over Jordan also ordered her to bring Sonni — “ah, Ms. Sol, the singer — bring her anything she wants to drink. Anything. Ok?” Jordan sat back, closed his eyes and debated with himself the wisdom of coming to see Sonni.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He shouldn\u2019t have called her yesterday. He shouldn\u2019t have come here tonight. He should have stayed in the hotel and looked at cable or gone to a movie. Or walked around Dupont Circle to Vertigo Books.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan turned in his chair to see where Sonni had gone. She was talking with the pianist, looking at a book of charts, flipping pages. Jordan turned back around, took a sip of his second drink, closed his eyes again and let his mind drift into realms of free association. Jordan started thinking about names. He knew the singer as Sonni, Mr. Voice called her Indigo Sol. Did the new name make her a different person? What was a name?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n People assume I\u2019m named after Michael Jordan, but actually I\u2019m named after the Biblical river Jordan. Mother said my birth was her Damascus journey, when she stopped being a sinner and crossed over into Jesus\u2019 arms. She went from one absent man to another, I would sometimes joke once I became old enough to wonder why neither my father nor Jesus every appeared before me, ever put an arm around my shoulder. Ever played…<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Indigo approached quietly from Jordan\u2019s rear, bent over his right shoulder, kissed his cheek. \u201cThanks for coming.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The quickness of her kiss, light as a moth fluttering against his arm, caught him by surprise. His eyes popped open. The vividness of Sonni\u2019s scent startled him. She was still wearing China Rain. Temporarily tongue tied, Jordan couldn’t say anything as Sonni sat next to him. In fact, caught off guard by the onrush of intimate memories that her scented kiss released, he actually momentarily lowered his gaze before looking up into the bright well of Sonni\u2019s shining eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan put both hands on the table top. He gripped the edges of the table. Sonni had looked good standing at the microphone singing with her eyes closed, her head cocked to the side, and her hands frozen in front of her like she was holding an invisible newspaper or about to hug a lover.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m glad to see you. I\u2019m glad you came. You look good. How did your interview go? How long will you be in DC?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan blushed at Sonni\u2019s bubbling enthusiasm. She smiled again. Leaning forward, eleven silver bangles jangled softly as she placed her arms on the table and waited for his response.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI guess I\u2019m ok. The interview is tomorrow morning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan was slightly disoriented by her eagerness. She\u2019s acting like we\u2019re still friends. Like she saw me yesterday, or last night rather than… what has it been, fourteen months now?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI know it will go well. You always make good impressions on people.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The Book of Laughter and Forgetting\u00a0opens with a story. Czech communist leaders on a balcony. Clementis places his fur cap on the head of Gottwald who is to give a speech in the cold and is bareheaded. Some years later Clementis was \u201ccharged with treason and hanged. The propaganda section immediately airbrushed him out of history and, obviously, out of all the photographs as well.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan had read many accounts of Stalinist visual revisionism, but none were as impactful as Kundera\u2019s irony. \u201cWhere Clementis once stood, there is only bare palace wall. All that remains of Clementis is the cap on Gottwald\u2019s head.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan was determined to get in the picture and stay in the picture.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJordan, if you were ordered to kill someone…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMr. Johnson, I understand the question behind the question. You want to know if I am prepared to make history.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Surgery and history, neither was for the squeamish. Only those who could look at things for what they were, only those who could sever flesh, wipe away blood, and get on with altering reality. Those were the history makers.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes, I am prepared to make history.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n After five years of close observance and six years of participation in various corporate minority outreach programs, Jordan was pre-recruited for the service. A discreet dossier had been kept. Scholarships. Summer internships. Overseas programs.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He didn\u2019t even respond to the female decoy in Germany. \u201cSubject resisted advances.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n When the call came to come to DC for an entry interview Jordan was ready. Of course when one is recruited to become a company member — one shouldn\u2019t even think \u201cspy\u201d — it has already been decided that one is fit to make history.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan didn\u2019t know precisely what he would be doing in the future, but he was sure that his doing would be significant. It was decided that he would become a success as a freelance journalist and travel writer. The necessary wheels were turned. That Jordan didn\u2019t know he was already part of the team made him that much more effective a player.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n On Friday afternoon around two-thirty in the afternoon they sat on the outside patio of UNO\u2019s Chicago Style Pizzeria enjoying a late lunch. Jordan had taken a taxi over to the Cleveland Park area eatery. He got there early because the interview had gone faster than he expected and rather than go back to the hotel he would wait, hopefully she would be on time.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Indigo arrived thirty-some minutes after Jordan but right on time almost to the minute. She had taken half a day off, rushed home, tidied up the apartment, and lit an aroma candle in the front room and bathroom before walking two and one half blocks to meet Jordan. Indigo wished she had had time to change out of her work clothes, but there had been a delay on the metro and she knew it would have been, as they say at home, “nothing nice” if she kept Jordan waiting. For as long as she had known him, Jordan had been a stickler for punctuality.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The fall day was gorgeous, unseasonably, albeit very agreeably, warm. Jordan had removed his jacket and carefully draped it over the empty chair to his right. Once they ordered, and after a few cautious q&a’s, the conversation picked up momentum. What was planned as a quick bite turned into a leisurely hour of catching up, mostly focusing on their respective fledgling careers.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cSo when does your book come out?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIn March…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDag, they couldn\u2019t push it up so you could make…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIt was originally scheduled for January, but I thought that would look too much like a Black history event in the making. So I urged them to wait until March so the book can rise or fall on its own merits.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnd you\u2019re saying Black History Month has no merit?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo. You don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan stared at Sonni and then suddenly looked away. He stabbed at the chicken breast and pasta dish, moving small pieces back and forth, and then set his fork aside. When he looked up she was smiling at him. He sat back and brought both hands up to his chin. There was no way to tell Sonni the truth.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d she asked.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018What\u2019?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI mean the way you\u2019re looking at me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHow am I looking at you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLike I\u2019m not here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Jordan reached out, covered her hand and then gently cupped her fingers between his open palms, like he was praying and she was god.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Sonni scooted closer to him and quickly kissed him very briefly on the lips. It feel like touching a dragonfly’s quivering wing. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n They got up. The bill was $16.45. Jordan left a twenty on the table. They started walking to her apartment, which she said wasn’t far down the block on Connecticut Ave. Each was thinking about the other, but what was there to say?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He desired her. She was ok with that. It had been months since she had gotten it on with someone and getting with Jordan was convenient. There would be no worrying about what comes next. Who calls whom how often. Whether we\u2019re getting serious or whatever. Tomorrow Jordan would be gone and there would be no complications and no entanglements.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWait here a minute. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d Indigo dashed into the convenience store and was back out in less than four minutes.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n As they strolled back to her apartment, she held his arm and mischievously bumped her hip against his. Just like she used to.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Q: Why did Indigo go into a convenience store?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A: To buy condoms.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Q: Why did she leave Jordan outside?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A: She didn\u2019t want to embarrass him.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Q: Would Jordan have been embarrassed by Indigo unashamedly asking for a pack of condoms and paying for it like she were buying chewing gum or a daily newspaper?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A: What do you think?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Q: What would Jordan have thought had he been standing next to Indigo not knowing what to do with his hands while she handed the 22 year old, female clerk a ten dollar bill with one hand and, with the other hand, blithely slipped the condoms into the mudcloth tote bag on her shoulder?<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A: Indigo, thought some bridges were best left uncrossed. This is another example of why the clich\u00e9 \u201cignorance is bliss\u201d remains relevant.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIt is better to light a candle<\/span><\/p>\n than to smell the darkness.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n