Maybe for the Summer

by Aubreé Pynn

“I may not know a lot, but I know that when life gets to twisting you around, God is trying to put you where you need to be.

What is a man littered with ink and gold all in his mouth going to do for you?” Donna questioned. “Fold you into a pretzel and break your heart.”

FACTSSS LMFAOO

“Well, I’ve lived long enough to know that nothing snatched away is ever a loss. You got something bigger and better on the way.

“The women who were raised to be good girls always end up with gangstas. The roses that grew out the concrete. The overlooked. Clean them up and elevate them. Enjoy the ride, Day. I got to say, it’s been the most rewarding journey of my life,”

Julius was literally one of those unhinged book baes she’d filled her free time with consuming. A damn unicorn. Mythical.

Daysha was a woman who required more – depth, love, patience, respect. And oddly enough, Julius wanted to study, research, and understand exactly how to be that. Because another man having what she possessed and mishandling it would drive him crazy.

He was teetering on the edge of making a home out of her. But before he did, he needed to know if his heart was safe in her

garden. If he watered her soil, would she protect what they made.

One thing Julius noticed since Daysha stepped into her role as his right hand, she was an asset. With an asset as powerful as her, he’d be as crazy and as protective as he needed to be.

“Butterfly?” Julius nodded. “Yeah, adding beauty to everything you land on. Got me trying to be your garden and shit.”

“Nahhh, you needed a little razzle dazzle,” he said leading her into the house. “Chef made some lunch. I know you haven’t ate.” “You like to think that I don’t eat until you feed me.” Julius pulled her into his body, kissed her lips and lingered there for a moment. “You weren’t fed until I fed you. And apparently I was thirsty before I drunk from you. So we even.”

Nesha scoffed. “Some niggas are for screwing, financing, and reproducing. None of them are for saving.” “But they can save you?” Daysha questioned. “I don’t need saving,” Nesha said. “Me neither,” Bebe added with a smack of her teeth. “And I’m never saving a nigga.”

“It’s my chest,” he revealed. “I don’t do good away from you. You did something to me. Gave me something I’ve never had. It’s like medicine. The closest I’ll ever come to being a regular nigga, Day. Seeing you with

someone else. The idea of someone having what makes me feel like a superhuman…it hurts my chest. Don’t misunderstand me. I’ll never hurt you and make you stay with me. I can’t do that to you.”

Daysha kissed his weed flavored lips. “I know. You exposed your heart to me. I don’t want anyone else to know that.” “What you saying to me, Day?” “I’m saying that I want to be the keeper of the garden that is you.”

Julius picked her hand off of his chest and kissed the palm. “You are. Why you think I call you Butterfly? You kiss the petals of my crazy and you find it beautiful. I’m supposed to let another nigga have that?”

“You heard me. I love you. I do. You’re what my nervous system needed. What my mind needed.

“Daysha is my butterfly. She

floats around the chaos that is sometimes my world and spreads beauty. She’s a reminder that starting over isn’t terrible, being a better man doesn’t make me soft, and that there is beauty in everything, even pain.”

I’m not trying to change her. I want whatever she wants. I want to pull out the things she denies herself of and watch how it blooms because she’s safe to expose it. I can tell you one thing for sure, it's been two months, and she’s turned my whole world around. So don’t ever tell me I don’t love her or I’m not good enough for her. I’m the best thing for her because I was put here for her. And she was made for

me.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice she hadn’t ever heard asked, drawing her attention from her phone screen to the inflated, bleach blonde, bad built botched body, expired video vixen of a woman before her.

lmaooooo no wayyyyyy iykyk

“Until the life leaves my body, I’m with you. And even then, you got my soul anchored to you. Locked in, Butterfly.”

“Father God. Thank you for our bundle of joy. We pray that it’s development is covered and blessed. We ask that you cover us. Heal the places of our hearts that we don’t reveal and the parts of our minds we feel like we can’t control. Lord, we ask that whatever we allowed to hurt us, whatever trauma we’re carrying and can’t put words to, You heal it. Use our tests and trials to show other’s how to trust themselves. And while I have you, Lord, please wrap your arms around this man. Provide him comfort and protection. That whatever attack that has been planned against his life and his mind fails. In Your mighty name, amen.”

When that crown gets too heavy to wear, I’ll massage your shoulders. When it slips, I’ll put it back in the right position. But you will never take it off, papa.”

“Giving me you and all your healing love. How you love me, how you speak to me – to every part of me is the realest shit I’ve ever known. You deserve whatever you want and then some.”