A Love Like the Sun

by Riss M. Neilson

For anyone who has ever felt hard to love, to those afraid to ask for what they need, and for myself. It’s not easy being brave, but I believe in us.

remember to walk with courage and…” “Trust our instincts,” I finished with a smile.

“You make me feel brave, Laniah.” I glanced down at our linked hands, my heart warm at his words. Issac always said things raw and outright, while I struggled to express myself. But I loved that he seemed content with me bumping my shoulder against his in response while we walked back home. We were always braver together.

Darius is the first guy I’ve gone on more than a few dates with since a long relationship in college. It’s hard explaining that I’m mainly looking for companionship with the potential for more—in a sea of people on dating apps asking for sex or something serious straightaway.

Totally relatable

“When does anything last with you? One-date wonder.” “At least I’m not out here with a busted radar like you. Picking mediocre men who turn out to be less than, and that’s when you actually give anyone the time of day.”

Love good banter!!

Maybe a soulmate connection isn’t something you just feel, maybe it’s something you have to be committed to building.” A curious expression crosses his face as he watches me. “Do you believe that?” I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. I don’t know what to believe about love and relationships anymore. Not after I thought my parents were soulmates, then death ripped my father from my mother so cruelly.

Lex Chen was the designated product delivery driver when Wildly Green was a kitchen business. More important, he’s my only other close friend in the world, and lately it feels like I’ve been taking advantage of that friendship by keeping him from earning money elsewhere.

Yikes

“So, you’ve been having money issues and didn’t think to tell me? You’ve been lying to me?” I think of how many times I’ve practiced this answer and say, “You would’ve tried to fix it and—” “I’m going to help,” he cuts in. “Then you’re going to fix it. How much do you need?” “That’s exactly why we didn’t want to tell you yet. A loan from you isn’t the solution.” “Who said it was a loan? Watch your words.” “And you watch your tone.”

“You’re sickening,” he says, but takes both of my hands in his. For how little he’s touched me since he’s been here, the action surprises me. “I’ll never forget slaving at Burger King after high school, trying to figure out how to get my art—me—seen. You didn’t understand why back then, but you researched hashtags, came up with PowerPoints of ideas you’d found on Google; you encouraged me at each step.”

“What if I have an idea that doesn’t involve throwing money at you but could potentially sustain profit?” “What do you have in mind?” I ask, skeptical yet curious about what wild solution he’s come up with during this conversation when I’ve spent months racking my brain for one. “I can’t say right now. You’d just have to trust me. Can you do that, Ni?” he asks.

Dennis believed in transferring energy into objects; he did it with his guitar each day, and so he gathered his nerves, every fiber of his imposter syndrome, and channeled it into the pen.

I stretch my legs, trying to blink away sleep, but lately it’s been getting harder, even after a full night’s rest. I make a mental note to mention it at my doctor’s appointment tomorrow,

Totally relatable.

up. I steady myself before checking my DMs. There are dozens of them from family, former colleagues, even a message from someone I matched with on a dating app and forgot to block. And then there’s the one. The one from Issac. I’m barely breathing when I click on the message. Except it’s not a message, it’s a notification for a tagged picture posted to his page at 11:58 last night. I was asleep by then, but the photo is of us. He knows I don’t want to be on social media, yet here we are. Issac between my bare legs because I had shorts on, me on the couch while I did his hair the night before, a hint of a smile on my face while he leaned his head on my thigh. My temperature is already rising before my eyes flick to the caption. A side smile emoji sits beside the words: It’s always been her. There is no one like my baby.

Lex Chen is our calming balance. Me sometimes too realistic, Mom overly hopeful, Lex a little bit of both and not easily swayed one way or the other.

Issac finally calls. There is no second ring. I practically dive for my phone on the couch. But the fire and anger leave; my words come out so soft. “Issac,” I say, “Issac, where have you been?” “Hi, Laniah.” His voice is softer than mine. “My sweet Ni.” “Don’t you dare.” “I had to do it.” “You should’ve told me.” “You said you trusted me.”

you should know that I won’t be able to concentrate on anything, nothing at all, if you’re back here unhappy without me. I thought you were happy. You never said you weren’t.” “And you think deciding something about my life without me will make me happy?” He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I hope you’ll forgive me for the way I went about it, but if you let the world think we’re together for a while, I won’t have to find out you had to move to a cheaper place without a porch in a few months. Call it selfish, but I don’t regret it one bit.”

“What if I said that doing this with you will actually help my reputation? That maybe it’ll get me out of the tabloids and the media will take me more seriously as an artist if I’m actually in a committed relationship?” he asks. “If I said part of this was for me, would that make you want to keep this going?” “Maybe,” I answer honestly. “And if I said you helped me launch my dreams, now let me help keep yours steady?” “I’d say you don’t owe me anything. They were just silly flash cards, Issac.” “You and Vanessa, Dennis…” Issac trails off. “It wasn’t just flash cards, Laniah.” Hearing my father’s name from his mouth makes my heart squeeze. “We love you,” I say. “You’re our family. My family.” Issac looks down into my face. “Am I like a brother?”

“What if you resent me?” He looks startled by the last question and ignores the others. “Resent you? Never in a million years. You could take every last cent of my money, run my name through the mud, if it meant you’d be okay. Resenting you is impossible. I just hope you won’t resent me. Social media. The secrets. We couldn’t tell anyone. If it leaked, that would definitely put some heat on my career. But I still wouldn’t resent you. This won’t feel like work for us. We both can continue to do what we love and be around each other a little more too. Does that sound so bad?”

“Get inside, big head. You’ll need the rest.” Since Issac is not the boss of me, after he leaves, I pick up my phone and check his post again instead.

Lololol

“I am a little nervous,” I admit. “There’s a term for it,” Dr. Rotondo says. “We call it white coat syndrome, and maybe you feel it when you’re around me.” I chew the tip of my tongue, avoiding his eyes as he continues. “What if I told you there’s nothing wrong with you? Will that make you feel better?” Part of me wants to agree so that he doesn’t think I’m paranoid or needy, but if I don’t ask this next question, I’ll be stressing about it for weeks. Until I finally give in and call him anyway. I take a breath, say, “I know you told me that the protein in my urine wasn’t a big deal before but…do you think it has anything to do with what’s going on with me now?”

Good girl

“Not surprised your doctor thinks it’s stress,” Bridget randomly groans. “If you’re a woman, it’s always stress to a doctor who can’t see past it. My doctor has a vagina like everyone else in her office. You should go there. Bet you’d get better care from someone who probably worries enough to wipe front to back.”

“But how will I know if my hair likes it?” “You can return it if it’s not for you,” I offer, but I can still see the hesitation on her face. “What’s your name?” “Destiny,” she says, the braces blinking in her mouth again. “But most people call me Des.” “Well, Des, how about I test it on you right now?” Her posture changes, her eyes brighten. “You’d do that?” “I would,” I say. Des sits in a chair near the sink at the back of the shop and tells me about school and a girl she used to have a crush on.

She asks if I’ve ever wanted to be a licensed hairdresser, and I tell her no. Not the kind that does blowouts anyway. When I begin diffusing her hair dry, people in the shop start to notice and walk over to peek, some stay and watch. Destiny’s curls look more defined than they already did. When I’m done, she takes a hand mirror from me excitedly but doesn’t turn it over to see right away. “No wonder Issac loves you,” she says instead. “I was going to tell you how lucky you are. He’s so nice. And he’s really cute too.” She looks shy when she says it, and it makes me smile. “But so are you. I’m happy he finally has his match. I hope I’ll meet mine someday.”

Get someone who distracts you by smelling like peaches and pineapples all day long.

Issac texts me. I’m still working but call me as soon as you wake up tomorrow, no matter how early it is for me. I want to hear about your day at the shop, and I want you to hear my voice when I say I told you so.

By the time Katrina drops me off at the shop, I’m fulfilled in the way that girl time tends to give. My walk is lighter, I’m laughing more, my pores are smaller, and we didn’t even have to get facials.

Lol totally relatable

“You know what I hate?” Lex cuts in,

“Liars,” he deadpans. “Is there something you want to tell me?” My stomach twists; I shake my head. He gives me a pointed look. “I’ve known you and Issac for years. It’s clear you’re keeping secrets. How fake is this whole thing on a scale of one to ten?” “Shh…” I glance around, whisper through gritted teeth.

I smack my lips together, sigh. “I was going to tell you…eventually.” “Whatever,” he says, waving his fingers at me. “Just give me the details, every single one of them, before another fan pulls you in for a picture.”

I try on every dress in my closet. We settle on two: a really short black one because you can never go wrong with a black dress and a pretty hunter-green one that hugs my curves so well I wonder out loud why I’ve never worn it in public. “Because you’re the picture of modesty,” Katrina says. “Except when you wear those tight tank tops and your titties be tittying.” I frown. “They do?” “Without your consent or knowledge, apparently,” Lex pipes in.

He nods his head toward one of the rooms. “That there is where I sleep…” He trails off, then touches the door in front of us. “Didn’t know if you’d want to stay in this one?” I think it’s a joke, but he looks serious. “Wait,” I say, clapping my hands together and trying to play it cool, “you get to sleep in my bed and hog the covers and drool on my pillows when you’re home but I have to kick it in the cold guest room when I visit? Since when?” His laughter can shift the walls, but there go those nerves in his eyes again. For a second, I imagine he stole a peek into my mind and found out about the sexy dream I had. Now he’s feeling uncomfortable to share a bed with me. It’s a wild thought, but I think it no less. Anxious until he snatches my bag off the floor, says, “You know what, you’re right. Please drool on my pillows and leave me cold at night.”

He always writes before bed, but he never lets me see.

“You wait to tell me too many things, Ni,” he says. “I hope you break that habit, for my sake. I don’t want to be kept in the dark. Please try?” Issac’s never pushed me on this before. Not even after my dad died and I found it even harder to tell him what was on my mind.

But even though his artistic instincts kick in while working, even though he always fights to control his own narrative, he’s so kind. He looks people in the eyes, is a well of pleasantries, remembers everyone’s name, asks the stylist who’s dressing him how her aging parents are doing and wants to see pictures of her dog.

he sits on the bed and watches me scramble, going in and out of the bathroom and trying on four different outfits for him. Each time he says That looks perfect, I groan and take it off. The cycle repeats until he reaches to touch my side, asks, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Seconds pass. Then, “What if I said I’m nervous everybody will be scrutinizing me because I’m your…girl?”

he responds by wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to where he’s sitting on the bed. When he rests his forehead against my stomach, it sends an image to my brain: us like this, but my belly big and round. I stiffen in his embrace, suddenly short of breath. Where the hell did that come from? Issac aside, I don’t even know if I want kids. What’s wrong with me? “I wish you wouldn’t worry,” he finally says. “You’re one of the best dressers I know. Nickels and dimes get you on the same level, or further than most of them, and they have stylists to help.

He runs his fingers over the fabric of my green dress on his bed. “This feels smooth. And it’s my favorite color. Wear this one.” I can almost hear Katrina and Lex squealing. “You sure it’s not too fancy?” He stands and towers over me, giving me a great view of the defined lines of his neck. “Get your fine ass in the bathroom and put it on. We’re going to be late.”

When we get a second to ourselves, I whisper, “Some of them won’t stop staring.” Issac’s quiet for a moment, but his eyes trace the length of me, lingering on my midsection before making it back to my face. He licks his lips and leans in close. “I’m convinced anything you wear will have them staring,” he says, “but this dress…that body. Your hips.” Heat flicks across my chest. I can’t believe he just said that. But he pulls back enough to meet my eyes and there’s no denying the daring glint in his.

I push my hair out of my face, smile, and wave. I’ll feel less than only if I allow it.

I understand what survival instincts are. I know what it looks like when someone has no intention of going back to where they came from.

How this person who was only in my life for a few weeks would choose to forsake my privacy for the power to inflict pain just because things didn’t go his way.

Even a couple of celebrities commented saying they hope Darius gets dragged through the dirt. I only just met Kid Krews at Shida’s party, and he makes a video saying he better not see Darius in the streets because he’s taking the violation against me personally.

I’m happy Issac had a house to live in, but it still breaks my heart thinking about the way they neglected his heart. They didn’t have to be physically abusive, pretending Issac didn’t exist was enough.

Mom felt bad for all the kids, I think. But she took special notice of Issac, the brown boy who’s been wearing the same shirt four days in a row, and started demanding he bring his dirty clothes over so she could wash them at the laundromat. My dad’s the one who bought him his first phone. When he started making YouTube videos and tried to show his foster parents, they brushed him off and called what he was trying to do silly while my parents were proud. Issac never felt love from Alice or Howard, and now the silly thing he was doing makes him the money they surely asked him for.

“Do you want to talk about the visit with your foster parents?” He plucks grass, shakes his head. “Not really.” “Do you want to talk about me? What happened?” “Do you?” “I think we need to,” I say. “Your silence is painful. I hate walking on your eggshells. I know I probably embarrassed you by the picture being leaked. Hurt your reputation but—” His head snaps up, he looks at me and laughs a little. “That’s what you think is bothering me? You really walk our world oblivious.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I…,” he starts, trails off. “Forget it.” “Nope. You haven’t been acting like yourself. You’re keeping things from me. You—” “Care about you,” he cuts in. Not gently, his tone is sharp. “I care about you, and sometimes I’m not sure if you even know me. Do you really think I’d be embarrassed because of this? Do you really think I give a damn about my reputation because people are sharing a picture of you, without your consent, on the internet? Knowing how private you are, knowing you already struggle with the internet. And that’s after already considering that Darius violated your trust. I’m worried about you, Laniah. Not me.”

“You’re oblivious as hell. You can’t even see that I’m hurting because I’m hurting you.” His words catch me off guard. I can’t fully process what he’s saying until he gestures between us.

If you feel guilty, talk to me like you usually do. Don’t shut me out and make me feel…insignificant.” His face falls, a small sound escapes his mouth. We stare at each other, the tension thickening the air between us. Finally, he says, “There’s no one in the world more significant to me than you.” The heat between us cools to something warmer, and suddenly looking at him hits differently. He’s always been beautiful, gorgeous, but right now he’s infuriatingly fine.

“Is that so?” I finally say. Issac grins. “Yeah, because of all the buttons at the back of the dress. Get your mind out the gutter, best friend.” I pinch his stomach, and he says, “Sorry. I’m acting like a fool but I’m so happy you’re here. Are you?” “Maybe a little,” I tease. He steps back and spins me in a circle. We both laugh as my dress rises. “How about now?” “Possibly a little more. Maybe a whole lot. Ask me again at the end of the night.” “You’re as annoying as you are stunning.” Then louder to the people staring at us: “Do you see this goddess?” My face flushes. I swat his chest playfully and drop my gaze. “Stop that.”

Dating for love isn’t fun,

if it’s not an overstep, sometimes men are difficult, maybe he’s waiting for you to admit you’re in love with him first.” A flash of warmth cuts across my chest and stays long after she leaves. My reactions made it obvious to her that Issac and I haven’t discussed our feelings; we’re lucky she’s the picture of grace.