Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [141]
Love will take your breath away. When you really experience the “holy instance” of love, it will rattle your brain and take your breath away. I know. It happened to me when I saw Adeyemi waiting for me at the gate when I got off the plane. A chill ran from the bottom of my feet straight to the top of my head. For a second, my sight blurred and my breathing stopped. I wanted to laugh and cry. I wanted to bite him and lick him. I wanted to rip my clothes off and dance naked in the airport. But I was cool.
“Hello, Ms. Vanzant.”
“Hello, Mr. Bandele.”
“How are you? You look great.”
“I be fine. Thank you muchly.”
We made small talk on the way to pick up my car. I was in Atlanta for a speaking engagement the next day and to see Balé, who had relocated there. Adeyemi and I talked about our children, my books, and his latest project. But we never talked about us.
Several more months went by before I had the courage to approach the subject of us. I had to bring it up because, although we had become intimate, he was considering a relationship with another woman. I wanted him to know that I was not the same person who used to sneak up to Albany to see him. I had too much at stake to be “the other woman.”
“I was just wondering,” I said, “what it would be like if you and I were to get together again.”
“You were? That’s interesting, because I’ve been thinking about that, too.” He was trying to hide his excitement.
“You were? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that you know me better than any other person does. You know me better than my mother. I was thinking about how well we work together and how much we have been through together. It’s funny, but every woman I have ever been involved with knows about you. Some of them have been pretty spooked about it. But they all know that you are the one person in my life who has loved me unconditionally.”
It was a lot for me to swallow, so I changed the subject to hide my excitement. Later in the week, I got a call from Balé. He said he needed to speak to me, and he wanted to do it in person. He assured me that nothing was wrong, but that he needed to lay his eyes on me. By the end of the next week, I was back in Atlanta.
Adeyemi picked me up at the airport, I went to his house, and we went to Balé’s together. Balé called me into his meeting room. We talked for a few moments before he called Adeyemi. I had said to Adeyemi that the only way we could be together was if we did it the right way, with the blessings of our elders and in public view. I was not going to repeat the same mistakes I had made before. He agreed. But we both knew that Balé was the key. He was very unhappy about the way Adeyemi and I had carried on in the past and spared few words in letting us know his displeasure about the way we ended our relationship the last time. When he called Adeyemi into the room, I expected to be scolded and whipped.
I am not sure who spoke first. I was too busy trying not to wet myself. Balé was saying something. I was trying not to look at him or Adeyemi. Before I knew what was really going on, Adeyemi was on his knees in front of me, asking my godfather for permission to marry me. My heart stopped. I think Balé knew and was trying to give his response before I keeled over and died. As if he were ordering lunch from a menu, he said, “I believe I could give my blessing to a union between the two of you.”
I rested my head on Adeyemi’s head, which was in my lap. Together, we sighed deeply with relief. The next stop was the home of my surrogate mother and mentor, Dr. Barbara Lewis King.
We didn’t announce our coming. I knew she would be home because it was just after church. When she opened the door and saw us standing there, she said, “What did you come to tell me? Are you two getting married?” We all laughed.
Dr. King had been my eyes and ears when I had none. She has nurtured,