"Rooting For Everybody Black"

We stop life to heal life.

("We just wanted to see you win, sis").

There's a chilling myth that circulates within the black community and it's one that has been passed down from generation to generation.

It has been said that our great, great grandparents are somewhat responsible for the perpetuation of this tall tale, but others have argued that, that responsibility should lie solely on the shoulders of some of our most 'dopest' black four fathers. That them, and them alone are the creators of this wicked folklore.

And what exactly is this historical myth, you might ask?...

...That Black People Don't Support Each Other!

Yes, you heard it right!

These lies have been spread across the black community and plaguing my people for centuries.

Brothas and sistas across the globe have been hesitant to pass out mixtapes or share SoundCloud links, and some even shake at the very thought to link anything in their bios.

Black men and women hide their business cards and tremble at grand openings, and all of this because of the continuation of such dishonesty.

But fret not! I have been granted an experience, a true tale that I will share with you, that will, in itself, debunk this ghastly legend!

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It was a Sunday night when I decided to go over a friend's house.

I had been sick for the past three days and thought it would be a good idea to continue wallowing in my misery while my best friend was in attendance, you know, to have someone take care of me as the weekend came to a close.

(Ya'll, I'm lying harder than Pinocchio. I was only over her house because I heard the fastest way to get over a cold is when you give it to someone else).

But I assume God knew of my mischievous plan, because while my friend still allowed me to come over, she had already made plans to attend her coworker's book club, therefore leaving me alone like how some nine-year-old would leave their sick and ailing goldfish.

Saddened by, not only my illness, but also at the fact that I was being forced to deal with it alone, I became bored and inadvertently began spreading my, non-COVID related germs from comforter to decorative throw pillow.

That's when I heard it.

A loud and consistent banging coming from the apartment just below me startled me and, quite frankly, disturbed my germ spreading activities. I had to investigate!

I jumped from the sofa and placed my left ear to the floor and to the best of my abilities tried to decipher the sound. (I didn't need another robbery story, ya dig?).

I listened in for a total of five seconds and that was all the time I needed before realizing that the loud banging just below me was, in fact, my friend's neighbors engaging in "sexual activity"! (Oh LAWD!)

Feeling like an extreme creep and silently apologizing to this mysterious couple as if I actually walked in on them, I quickly got up from the floor and began searching high and low for my phone in a feeble attempt to try and mind my business.

Spotting my phone which was somehow wedged between the seats of the sofa and realizing I didn't have ample amount of time to try and reach for it, I figured maybe turning on the television would be a better idea and one that could do a much better job at drowning out the noise.

Seconds away from grabbing the remote, I let out the loudest sneeze that nearly knocked my ass into the Twilight Zone, and I knew, in that moment that if I could hear them, "sexing and flexing", then it was obvious they could hear me as well.

Embarrassed, I decided to stand perfectly still and try my best to let the moment pass, (honestly, I don't know why I stood there. It wasn't like they could see me!), but to my surprise I hear a male voice coming from downstairs say, "Bless you".

Did I hear this correctly? Was this man even talking to me?

Befuddled as hell and feeling extremely awkward, I nervously replied back, "Thank you!" and quickly got a response back of, "You're Welcome", before once again trying to reach for the remote.

Successfully turning on the television and moments away from entering "Mind my business mode", I ended up sneezing once again!

This time sneezing hard enough to send my ass packing to Hogwarts where Harry Potter and his friends go play.

Frustrated, and once again, embarrassed, I thought it would be best for everyone if I just went home. (I'm disturbing my people downstairs, and I think they've had enough of my constant distractions).

But no! I could hear the loud banging come to a halt and this time a woman's voice yells through the ceiling, "Aye mama, you good? "..."We got some DayQuil down here if you need it."

Was I dreaming?! Did this not-COVID illness have me hallucinating?! I mean, who stops in the middle of having sex to check on someone's well-being?

In my mind, I found it best to just ignore this 'conversation'. It was awkward and left me a tad bit uncomfortable, but you all should know me by now, awkward is my middle name and as always, my mouth continues to have other plans. (Besides, I really could've used some of their DayQuil, your girl was ill).

"Uhm, sure", I screamed through the walls. "I could really use some if ya'll don't mind. But go ahead and finish first!"

What the hell was I saying?!..."Go ahead and finish first", ...How stupid did I sound?

Why was I even conversing with these two naked individuals who were just rump shaking on a whole other floor?

But before I could finish anymore of my inner thoughts, I felt another sneeze coming to infiltrate my nose and I quickly ran down the hall to the bathroom to let it out. (No more interruptions! They're trying to procreate!)

I sat in the bathroom for about another ten minutes to make sure that I was all sneezed and coughed out before returning back to the living room when I suddenly hear a knock at the door.

Thinking I should ignore it, because, well, this wasn't my house, something compelled me to open the door anyway.

I slowly walked through the living room and turned off the television, (maybe I can make it look like no one's home), when the door knocked for the second time.

I finally made my way over to the door and tried to look through a foggy ass peephole that made whoever was on the opposite side look like the damn Green Goblin.

I slowly opened the door to find a girl in an oversized burgundy sweatshirt holding a bottle of DayQuil and next to her was a brotha in a pair of black shorts holding a glass of orange juice.

"Was this the sexing couple?", I thought.

I looked at these two beautiful, black saints with complete love and admiration, and even though no one spoke right away, the looks that the three of us shared with one another said it all.

Remembering that these two were just banging downstairs only moments ago, I quickly grabbed the DayQuil and orange juice and said, "thank you", before the brotha replied, "get well soon".

I gently closed the door and headed for the kitchen preparing myself to take this nasty ass medicine while also wondering if the two sexing neighbors would somehow request for their things back. (I don't know where ya'll apartment is! Hell, I could barely find my friends’).

But after overthinking for damn near twenty minutes of how I could smoothly return their items, I turned from the kitchen counter and asked myself,

"Would this be considered a threesome?"

©2022, Arien Simone