It was a beautiful day outside in the city of Atlanta, Georgia and two friends were about to experience for what it was worth. The temperature was a muggy 92 degrees in the shade and higher outside of it but it was held at by air conditioning inside a car that was working to full strength.

Inside the car were two friends. A man and a woman who had known each other for a long time. He was a greeting card writer for an Internet greeting card company while she held a job as a paralegal for a bigwig attorney.

They were good friends who enjoyed each other’s company for the most part.

Of course, that was until someone else had something else to say about that.

“It’s been six months, 8 days, 12 hours since you went away.”

A song floated over the radio listened by the two. It was something that of course listened to by many of the listeners of the local Atlanta radio station and touched the hearts of many.

Specifically the two persons in the car.

He spoke first: “I can’t believe that man on the radio.”

“Brian McKnight?” She said. “I love this song.”

“You would.” He responded quickly.

“Why don’t you?” She questioned him just as quickly. She was in control of the conversation as easily as she was in control of the car of which she was behind the steering wheel of.

“Because that nigga is the biggest beggar on the planet.”

“You said the same thing about Boyz II Men.”

“That’s as a group.” He said. “But this guy has them beat . . . I mean really.”
She frowned slightly. “You’re over exaggerating.”

“Am I – this song says it all: ‘It’s been six months, 8 days, 12 hours since you went away.’” He paused. “My God that song has the makings of a restraining order.”

“So you are telling me that you’ve never been in love so much that you count the moments since you and the woman that you are in love with have parted?”

The car continued to move through the highways and byways that sliced through Atlanta. They were about to go to a park on the edge of town. It was hoped that they would enjoy the moment that GOD had provided for them . . . as good friends would.

“Not to the point that all life stops.” He told her. “Women love this type of shit on the radio but in real life it doesn’t make a bit of sense. “

“Really.”

“Yes, Really.” He told her with some amount of finality. “If Brian McKnight were to call you with this stuff your next call would be to the police . . . people get shot by boyfriends who think like this.”

“Once again I think to a blowing this way out of proportion.”

“I see I’m going to have to go The Practice route on you.” He paused. “If it pleases the court: I’d like to call Brian McKnight to the stand.”

“Please tell me you haven’t stooped to delving into fantasy?” She asked him. “Now you want to play out the scenes of a television show to prove your point?”

“Just play along.” He told her. “There is a method to my madness.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “But I’d like it put on record that you are in some serious need of mental help.”

“Duly noted.” He told her. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He began. “Now Mister McKnight is it true on the night in question that you called your ex-girlfriend and asked her the following questions.”

“And what questions might those be?”

“Please don’t avoid my examination,” He said with a distinct lawyer tone. “Might I remind you that you are still under oath?”

She played the part as if it was her own. “That’s fine but I was simply calling an ex-girlfriend to tell her of my feelings for her.”

“’Do you ever think about me?’” He asked. “Is that what you asked her that night?”

“Yes.”

“’Do you ever cry yourself to sleep?’” He asked. “Another question you posed to your ex-girlfriend that night.”

“Yes.”

“’In the middle of the night when you are awake are you calling out for me?’” He asked once again quoting verbatim the lyrics of the song. “’Do you ever reminisce. . . .’”

“Objection!” She said.

“You can’t object,” He told her. “You’re the witness.”

“I’m also the defense.”

“You’re making a mockery of this courtroom.”

“This coming from a man who is putting Brian McKnight on trial.”

“Point taken.” He paused. “And your objection is?”

“You’re leading the witness,” She told him. “There is no point to your questioning.”

“I am simply trying to establish a precedence to Mister McKnight’s actions on the night in question . . . it should be known that the accused has a history of not letting women go and stalking them to the point they have know choice but to run from him or go out with him. “ He stopped his sentence for a moment and gathered more of his thoughts. “That is the nature of his songs and lyrics to lull the victim into a sense of pity so that they have no choice but to be his.” He smiled.

“I’ll grant the defense’s objection.”

His smile quickly turned into a frown. He had not expected such opposition to his argument.

“Yes I’m the judge too.” She said as she explained to him the reason for breaking protocol.

He reacted quickly and coolly. “I see I’m dealing with a stacked deck here.”

“It worked for O.J.”

“Well then, your honor you should be able to see in real life nothing is ever the same such as the lyrics that Mr. McKnight sings about.” He explained. “His formulaic lyrics are based on obvious romantic fixations and imaginations.”

“I don’t see that is the case.”

“Perhaps you are not looking at it the right way.” He paused to give her a moment to respond, when she did not he began another statement of ‘fact.’ “If a real man was to say anything to such as that to a real woman then that person is going to be accused of stalking them.” His smile grew broader. “Or as the lyric right after the one that counsel objected to earlier states: ‘I can’t believe I’m acting like this . . . I know it’s crazy . . . I still can feel your kiss.’” He paused once again. “That to me is sign of a man who is not living in the basis of his own reality.”

“Objection,” she said once again. “Mister McKnight’s sanity is not on trial here . . . obviously he is in great pain over the breakup stated in the song.” She smiled back him and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he was the one that left her and felt that he made a mistake in doing so . . . so in calling her he felt that perhaps he needed to state that if she was still feeling that way . . . he would want to have her back in his life.”

“It’s always the man who does wrong in these situations huh?”

“Have you ever heard a song from a man when a woman messes up?” She paused before breaking into a chuckle. “Oh that’s right women never do anything wrong.”

“We’ll get to that disparaging comment later.” He looked at her lovingly yet sternly and said. “Might I remind the court the transcript from the chorus of the song: ‘It’s been 6 months, 8 days, 12 hours since you went away.’” He suspended his thought for short moment then said, “That proves that she left him not the other way around.” He flashed her a smile with all of his teeth in tow. “Objection overruled.”

“You can’t be the judge on this case but I’ll allow an overrule of the objection because of its presentation.”

“Your mercy is touching.” He told her.

“As always.” She retorted.

“May I continue?”

“Yes, please.” She said while smiling. She was beginning to enjoy this little game.
He coughed then spoke again. “It seems to Mister McKnight that love is a series of moments in which – boy loses girl, boy pouts while girl goes on with her life then boy sings song to girl.” There was a devilish glint in his eye as he then told her. “The results of which sends the girl back to him because she knew in her heart she was wrong.”

“And you are saying that people don’t make mistakes and come back to the men afterward?” She asked him.

“I never have seen it happen . . . a least when the woman is the one who has bounced out of the relationship.” He told her. “Men yes. In music, movies and songs they are always the ones who come back . . . but for women . . . HELL NO!!”

“Oooo,” she said. “That is pretty sexist.”

“Sue me.” He told her. “But that is true.” He smiled. “It’s like an urban legend . . . everyone has talked about but rarely has it been seen.”

“Damn, that woman clearly did a number on you.” She told him.

“No,” he told her. “She just made me see reality.” He paused and looked out the window. “And every song that flies in the face of that I have to put in its place.”

“Well I guess we have no choice but to find Mister McKnight guilty of stalking in the first degree.” She told him as she placed a loving hand on his own. “How would you like to sentence the accused?”

“Life plus 20 years.” He told her.

She laughed but then after a few moments found out that she was the only one laughing. Her friend looked to her and flashed her a smile that was too broad to take seriously. It was as if he was hiding something behind that smile.

Pain.

Of course, she knew the pain that he was feeling.

The pain from a recent breakup that of course was one of many that left him the bitter shell of a man that he was now. She wanted to help him through this trying time but she knew enough of him as a friend to leave things alone.

He would work through as he did with so many others.

She squeezed his hand slightly in the hopes that it would convey enough to him that love was still around for the most part. Love that was not located in the songs on the radio, in the sunshine in the sky or in the birds in the trees.

No, love was not that blatant.

Love was in the softness in a person’s touch, in the smile at the end of the day and in the concern of a friends voice when it seems that the world was ending.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” She told her friend.

“I know,” He told her as he smiled. “But that still doesn’t take the sting out of it.” He sighed. “I still love her . . . even though she doesn’t deserve it I still love her.”

“Maybe you can take her to court and sue her for the love she failed to give to you.”

He chuckled slightly before he said. “Now who is in need of mental help?” He flashed her a more genuine smile soon after.

They laughed together as to old friends who shared a moment that was more real than one shared by any lover. The car continued its trek as another song came on the radio. It was Donnell Jones and he was signing to a woman that he knew for a long time but wanted to get out of a relationship to find out “Where he wanted to be.”

She liked that song as well. It was passionate, romantic and told the thoughts and feelings about a man who had mixed feelings between what he wanted and what the world presented to him.

It seemed easy to ascertain, the couple could have been going through problems . . . she on the other hand could be feeling the same way. After all they had known each other since “their teenage years,” so it was plausible that they were bored with each other.

Perhaps they needed to be apart for a while before they could know if they were to be together.

However, she though about her friend and the comment that he made earlier. If she put the song in the context of “real life,” if she was the woman on the other end of that song would she just sit there and let a man break up with her, go out and look for other women in order to see if he wanted to be with her.

She found herself saying NO. What self-respecting woman would let herself wait for a man as he does whatever he wanted to in order to do the right thing.

She would have kicked him to the curb a long time ago. She would have been a woman and told him to go to hell. If He did not want her in the situation that they were end for as long as they knew each other then she would do without him.

She could do bad by herself.

With that in mind, she found herself reaching for the radio. Seconds later she turned it off.

“What did you do that for?” He said.

“All of a sudden,” she told him “I’m not in the mood to listen to the radio.” She sighed.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know what you mean . . . it just doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.”

“Nothing does,” she told him. “Nothing does.”