Things My Heart Has to Say: Element Series: Water

By B. Nakia Garner

Aqua has discovered the gift of the spoken and written word but lacks the drive and confidence to make her dreams come true. Along comes a smooth talking music producer who promises her a life filled with riches and fame. Consumed with false hope, the producer leaves her mentally and emotionally destroyed. Its the music and her poetry that helps her pull through and get a new lease on life. She starts to put the pieces of her life back together, but when one of the most important people in her life takes a turn for the worse, Aqua becomes lost once again. Looking to God for answers, and relying on the help of her family and friends, Aqua must discover what it truly means to listen to listen to the things her heart has to say.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477249086

B. Nakia Garner

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. Luke 12:48 B. Nakia Garner developed her love of writing at a young age. She wrote her first poem at the age of eight and has not put her pen down since. Her love for the written word led her to pursue a communications degree from Syracuse University. In addition to penning her first full-length novel, a feat that was more than 20 years in the making, B. Nakia is also a book reviewer for Romantic Times and an active member in her local chapter of Mocha Moms, Incorporated. Her future projects include the continuation of her Element Series, four books whose characters and settings are predominantly influenced by earth, wind, water and fire. In addition to writing and reading, she enjoys traveling, playing board games, going to the movies, and using her writing as a way to spread God’s word. She lives in Prince George’s County Maryland, a suburb of Washington, D.C., with her son, Jacob.

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Contents

Introduction

Thicker Than Water

Slippery When Wet

Wet And Wild

The Great Lakes

Cool Water

Shed So Many Tears

One Drop At A Time

Healing Waters

Swim Before You Sink

Rain Down On Me

Dark And Damp

Blame It On The Rain

When It Rains, It Pours

Water, Water Everywhere

Hot And Wet

Wishy, Washy

Babbling Brook

Acknowledgements

To Brian T. Shaw—my friend and my heart; for your constant interest in the evolution of Aqua and your support of all of my multiple projects

To Debra Garner—my mommy; for passing down your love and appreciation of the written and spoken word to your daughter-friend

To Jacob Marcel Hawkins—my beautiful little boy; I leave you this legacy: not the art of writing, but of following your dreams to completion

INTRODUCTION

I don’t see how some women can spend close to two hours getting dressed in the morning. The shower, make-up and accessorizing alone can consume at least an hour of a woman’s time. But my time is too precious to bother with make-up because moisturizer and facial cleanser is enough for me.

I am not a tomboy, by any means. Although I am most comfortable in jeans and sweatpants, I can dress up with the best of them.

Now, for instance, I am on my way to work but I am wearing my favorite pair of sweatpants with tiny holes sprouting along my inside thigh. They are not extremely baggy nor are they super tight. But they fall off of my curves pretty nicely I think.

And I am wearing a snug blue Scooby Doo tee shirt that I have owned forever. The picture on it has pretty much worn off but you can still see the words SCOOBY DOOBY DOOOOOOOOOOOO!

You might be wondering who I am at this point. My birth name isn’t important since no one calls me by it so you can just call me Aqua or Ay for short. It sounds silly to some but the name fits so I see no reason to change it. I see water as something that is constantly in motion with a never ending calm, and from what I’ve been told by friends and associates, that describes me to a fault.

I’m originally from Washington, D.C., Northeast to be exact, but I relocated to Philadelphia, Pa. right after graduating from college more than three years ago. Despite what some people think, D.C. was not all that rough. It’s no different from any of the other major cities in the world. As long as you kept sight of your goals while staying out of other people’s business, you were fine.

It was easy to get swept up in some of the foolishness that went on around you though. I mainly hung out with guys, and though none of them really hung out in the streets, they could have easily fallen into drug dealing and robbing candy stores and what not.

For me, the main temptation I had to resist was agreeing to let some wealthy older gentleman become my sugar daddy. There were so many older men in D.C. that were just looking for those young, ripe, naïve girls to spend their hard earned money on, while getting some of the best intimate moments of their lives. I went to school with plenty of girls wearing no fewer than three new outfits a week, thanks to the generosity of their sugar daddies. Call me crazy, but there isn’t enough money in the world that would let me allow some 75-year-old man to have his way with me. Money wasn’t that important to me then and it is not the center of my world now.

In D.C., I lived with my parents and younger brother in a 3-bedroom home. Now, I have a little one-bedroom apartment in North Philly that faces this beautiful and serene park. When the sun rises and sets you can see its rays glinting off of the lake. When I get the chance, I like to feed the families of ducks that have made the park their home or sit on one of the benches facing the lake and daydream about the future.

I work so hard and so often that I still have boxes I have yet to unpack since I moved in. I do have a few paintings on my living and dining room walls that show musicians having jam sessions and pictures with spiritual or religious themes.

My favorite picture is of a woman wearing a blindfold and walking off of the edge of the cliff. Above the raging water and the sharp rocks there is a transparent hand ready to catch her. It reminds me of a saying my pastor says at the close of each sermon, Walk by faith and not by sight.

I have only a few pieces of furniture and most of it is in the living room. I have a mud brown couch with a matching love seat and a mahogany coffee table cluttered with all of the magazines I subscribe to. I had the walls painted a color I call bittersweet, from a box of crayons I remember having when I was little. It’s a lighter version of regular brown with slight streaks of gold. In an amber colored rack I have all of my CDs arranged alphabetically next to my modest entertainment system. My 27-inch t.v. sits on a stand, made of the same wood as the coffee table, with several drawers to hold my tapes and DVDs.

Red and gold picture frames show me with various family members and friends, all of whom have made a difference in my life. Besides the bedroom, the living room is where I spend the most time. I read somewhere that using earth tone colors like shades of brown, gold and red in your décor can evoke a sense of calm in any room. So though I don’t entertain much, anyone who comes into the living room immediately feels at ease.

The bedroom is made up mostly of my queen sized bed with a nightstand. Right now, most of my clothes are in suitcases waiting to be hung up. My spot looks pretty bare but I’ll get to decorating it eventually.

I’ve been in this life too long. I gotta change my attitude, it’s time to sing a new song, I started singing off key while packing my bookbag.

I am so in love with music even though I can’t carry a note to save my life. Music is such a release for me emotionally and spiritually. That’s one of the reasons why I decided to get into the music business and recently started working on my debut album.

I don’t consider myself to be a rapper because people automatically have a stereotype in mind of how a female rapper should dress, talk and behave. So, I call myself a lyricist, a prophetic and poetic lyricist if you will. I let my lyrics define who and what I am. And who I am is a Black female that is no longer afraid to speak her mind and face the consequences should anyone take offense to my words. What I am is someone that is finally learning to appreciate and accept the surprises of life and learning the true definition of love for the very first time.

I can get inspired by all genres of music; my CD collection is pretty diverse. I have everything from Etta James to Big L to Maroon 5 to Mary Mary, But my major weakness is gospel music. On my roughest and toughest days, I can play any gospel CD and immediately feel my burdens lift from my shoulders. The troubles don’t instantly go away, but my mindset changes enough for me to feel more confident about the situation. Even if the song ends with me crying, I feel somehow relieved and comforted knowing things will eventually get better.

My album is untitled right now but I know God will put the right title on my heart in due time so I am not rushing it. And since I can’t sing myself, I got a couple of my boys to sing on a few of my tracks. Speaking of which . . .

*ring ring*

Wassup, Aqua?

What’s good, V?

Nothing much, just tryna maintain. We still hittin the studio today?

Don’t we always hit the studio on Friday? This week ain’t no different.

Aight sis. See you in a few.

Peace.

Peace.

V, short for Vince, has been my brother since forever. He is one of a group of guys that have adopted me as their sister. At one time, V and I were a little more than friends. Thankfully, things didn’t work out because we realized we were better off staying platonic.

Damn, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I still gotta make my stop before I go to the studio, I mumbled to myself.

Now if I could just find my wristband.

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Fifteen minutes later, I was out the door and headed to my brand new Cadillac Escalade, courtesy of my record label N.I.I.B. It’s a hot new label known for thinking outside the box when it comes to the artists they sign. So far, they know how to treat a sista right.

I always wanted an Escalade but I was never interested in putting multiple televisions in it and all that other unnecessary stuff that celebrities do to their vehicles. My baby is simple and black. I did add one personal touch, though. I got personalized tags that say Still Ay to remind myself that no matter how many albums I sell or how many awards I win, I’m always going to be plain old Aqua from Northeast.

Ooh, I love this song! I screamed when I turned on the radio.

Art and HiLite, two more of my brothers, just dropped their first single and it is so hot. I’m trying to get them on my album but I can never get in touch with them. I always blast their song when I hear it. I love to see my hometown peeps doing big things.

That’s gonna be me real soon, I whispered to myself.

During the 30-minute ride to my first stop of the day, I stopped to really take in my neighborhood. It was the beginning of Spring Break so the kids in my hood were out in droves. I saw a few teenagers start a rap cipher on the corner causing me to smile in nostalgia.

My boys and I would start rhyming battles with each other to get spare change from onlookers back in the day. Art and HiLite were the main acts while the rest of us collected the money and acted as hype men to excite the crowd. Every kid had a hustle back then so we picked one that wouldn’t land us in jail. It seemed more fun than selling newspapers or carrying groceries.

I was tempted to pull the car over and listen to the youngsters for a little bit. But first things first, gotta go see Grannie.

This is a weekly ritual for me. I was raised by both of my parents in D.C. but every weekend and every summer, without fail, I went to Philly to visit my paternal grandmother Willa Mae Tables. My maternal grandmother lived in Maryland, not far from our house, so I saw her all the time, but dad wanted me to get to know his mother as well.

Willa Mae is the one that gave me the name Aqua. She said when I was born, and she looked into my eyes, she thought she would drown in the two pools of water that sat on my face. She wanted Aqua to be my real name but my parents wouldn’t dream of it.

My dad is the oldest of 10 so he always felt the need to take care of his family. He owns several car dealerships on the East Coast and stays pretty busy. He met my mom after he graduated from college. My mom never went beyond high school but she read everything she could get her hands on and that put them almost at the same level mentally. She was a lot stricter than my dad was and refused to let me, or my younger brother Ricky, miss out on a higher education.

She worked in construction for more than 25 years before she died of a stroke. I miss her sometimes but whenever she crosses my mind, I think about one of the last lessons she taught me: Don’t dwell on things you can’t control. When your father and I leave this Earth, all you and Ricky are gonna have is each other. Use your time and energy to elevate each other instead of mourning us. Your tears won’t help us and they certainly won’t help you.

She and my dad gave us enough love to keep us from feeling lonely but my grandmother’s love was always just a little stronger. She has 14 other grandchildren scattered around the country and she tries to keep close ties on them all. Fridays are all about me and her, though, and she never denies that I’m her favorite.

Hey little lady, I called using my key to enter her single-story home.

My grandmother is barely five feet tall and I love to tease her about her height. At 5'8", I easily tower over her but we both know who’s in charge.

You’re kinda late today aren’t you? she said looking at the cuckoo clock on the wall. She lifted herself off her beige couch to give me a hug and I kissed her on the cheek.

I know. I know. It took me forever to find my wristband this morning.

I caught a little smile on her face before she returned to her usual spot by the window. She gave me this red, black and green wristband right before I went away to college in North Carolina. She explained that the red represented the blood my ancestors bled for me and all those that come after me; the black symbolizes my people as a whole and the green is the land that Black people worked and toiled over for years.

She told me, This is to make sure you never forget who you are and where you came from. Now, I never leave home without it, whether it is on my wrist or on my ankle or hanging from my rearview mirror on a string.

So, what you been up to little lady?

Well child let me tell you . . .

She proceeded to tell me about her latest trip to Atlantic City where she won $1,500 on the blackjack table then spent half of it on some new clothes for herself. And she told me about her friends from church and how well they did on their latest bake sale and church carnival.

I never could understand how a woman so involved in church could manage to go gambling every Tuesday night. But at 85, my grandmother still enjoys the thrill of making money. I can’t be mad at her for that.

After an hour of conversation, I crawled between her legs and sat in the Indian style position.

It’s that time, Grannie, I said.

Aside from the studio, this is the most peaceful place for me. I love when my grandmother greases and massages my scalp. She moves almost in a rhythm that only she can hear while saying a short prayer she recites every week.

Father God, I thank you once again for this time with my granddaughter. I thank you for her unselfish spirit and her unyielding love. I pray that she will continue to use the gifts you have blessed her with. Grant her patience in her quest to excel in the spoken word. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Before I walked out the door, she gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear, Make me proud baby girl.

I’ll see you next week, Grannie.

The studio is less than 20 minutes away from my grandmother’s house but I like to have some alone time in my car to meditate before I enter the booth. I turn off the radio and close my eyes and just focus on my breathing. It takes a while, but eventually all of the noises outside disappear until all that’s left is a low, steady hum inside my head.

Glad you made it on time, I said to V when I finally walked in. Let’s get ready to do this.

After doing some light breathing exercises and shoulder rolls I picked up the headphones. I like to be clear of mind and loose in body before I get into my groove. I took a sip of some ice cold water and cleared my throat while the scent from a vanilla scented incense stick wafted in front of my face. As soon as the headphones touched my ears, my fingers started tingling and I felt myself getting excited about the words about to come from my mouth. This is my niche and where I feel I belong. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to flow.

THICKER THAN WATER

I always knew I would go away to college as opposed to staying home. My mother regretted not ever going to college and at times felt inferior around those that did. But she played it off well and focused her energy on convincing me that a college education was necessary in life.

When she went to visit Clark Atlanta University for my dad’s 15th reunion, she came home excited about what she saw and the stories she heard about student demonstrations, step shows and road trips. She was impressed with the camaraderie between my dad and his fellow alumni and realized that going away to school opened his eyes to new cultures and experiences. She was the one who put it in my mind to go to an out of state school. Going to a local school was never an option for me, though Howard University begged for me to go there.

I ended up choosing North Carolina A & T State University for my second home. I first visited the school as a sophomore in high school and I was hooked. The overall atmosphere felt right to me. It reminded me of D.C., but with thicker, southern accents and about six hours separating me from my parents. Growing up, I appreciated being surrounded by all kinds of hues of Black people. In school, I got to see the same diversity but all with a common goal of achieving higher education and making something of their lives. Every day was a beautiful sight to see. It was perfect to me in every way.

In high school, I was on the debate team, track team, student government, yearbook and young mentors group. All of those activities made those four years just fly by. No matter how many activities I did or how many functions I attended, my mind and heart always came back to the magic of writing.

I viewed writers as magicians because they could transform themselves into any and every man, woman, child or creature. They could fabricate a story out of thin air and manage to pull the reader into their make believe world.

My first attempt at creative writing was a love letter I wrote as a high school freshman to a graduating senior. I had the biggest crush on him. His name was Giovanni and he was the captain of the baseball and basketball teams. I wrote this long, sappy letter telling him how great he was and how much I liked him. I was too shy to give it to him directly so I slipped it in his locker. He found out who I was and walked up to my table at lunch. He appreciated the letter but told me he had a girlfriend who went to a different high school. But he liked my letter so much that we eventually became good friends.

That’s when I decided that my writing could take me somewhere beyond a nine-to-five if I just found the time to perfect it. College was as good a place as any to start working on it.

I thought about looking for a major related to creative writing but thought it was more for those looking to write full books. My focus was more on poetry, and how could a major teach you how to write from your heart? So I majored in Sociology and Social Work with a minor in Psychology. I wanted to work with kids some day and through Psychology I would be able to understand and reach them on a mental level. It sounded pretty logical to me.

The first person I met when I moved into my dorm freshman year was a girl from Detroit named Majestic, or Jes for short. We lived across the hall from each other and discovered we both had the same Black is Beautiful poster hanging on our wall. We clicked almost instantly and have been as close as sisters ever since.

I taught her about D.C. slang and she explained the Detroit style to me. We stayed in a dorm that had nothing but freshmen in them, and our floor was pretty tight. There were a few other girls from D.C., a set of twin sisters from Florida and the rest were from other cities in North Carolina. We all ate together and went to the movies and became genuine friends over the years. But Jes has always been my number one girlfriend.

As long as I’ve known her, she has always had her pick of men and they were never too far behind. I always joked with her that she must have some secret potion mixed in with her perfume that only men can sense. It is so strong that they find themselves drooling over her and ready to leave their girlfriends for her.

Majestic was never that kind of woman though. She has ethics and she has respect for other women. She’s not against the idea of love but it has never been her top priority. She always said, I’ll slow down when love finds me. But I am not going to go looking for it.

She is a few inches shorter than me, at 5'5", but we both have the same rich caramel complexion. Her eyes are a light hazel while mine are a deep mahogany. Our body types are frighteningly similar, so many people mistake us for being real sisters. We are both curvy, but not too thick, with deep dimples in both cheeks. The only difference is, most of her curves are in her breasts and legs and mine are in my hips and butt. She changes her hairstyles every week but when we first met it was bone straight and hung to her earlobes. I used to perm my hair every few weeks but started locking my hair the summer after my sophomore year. I could confidently say that I pulled my own share of men as well.

While Jes was laying low when it came to men, I was open to meeting someone new and, perhaps, falling in love. In high school, I had a sweetheart but I got so wrapped up in other things I had going on that I neglected him and he broke up with me. I was determined that if I had the chance to be with someone again, I would make more of an effort to make that relationship a priority.

Jes majored in T.V. production and spent most of her time in the studio. We didn’t see each other that much during the week but we made up for it on the weekends, going to the movies and on road trips to neighboring schools. Between the two of us, we have met some of the wildest and raunchiest people on the face of this Earth and all our experiences make for great stories we can’t wait to tell our kids someday.

I remember one trip to Myrtle Beach where we met these White frat boys who followed us around like lost puppies the whole trip. Being from Wyoming, they weren’t really used to Black women, especially Black women they described as regal. We got rid of them when they tried to play the overprotective role and blocked the action from other guys.

I used Majestic as my first audience when I made the decision to perform for the first time. I was so self-conscious back then that it took two years to become confident enough with my writing to want to share it with other people. I had filled more than two black and white composition books with poetry, short stories, and prose and I knew my stuff was good enough to be appreciated by at least a few more people.

When my junior year came around, I looked for an opportunity to read or recite my words somewhere on campus. When my girl heard that there was going to be an artist showcase during homecoming weekend, she signed me up without consulting me first.

That gave me three weeks to prepare.

I need to write something fresh for the showcase, I said to Majestic while looking through my book of lyrics. Any suggestions?

She looked up from painting her nails and said, What’s wrong with the ones you have in your hand? You got over a 100, just pick one.

She blew on her nails to dry them quicker.

You’re making more out of this than it needs to be. It’s just a showcase Ay and it’s just for five minutes, if that.

It may sound like just five minutes to you but five minutes on a stage can feel like five hours if you’re nervous enough. This is a big deal for me. I’ve worked hard on my writing and I want to make sure my hard work wasn’t for nothing.

Were you working hard to impress other people or yourself? she asked me.

She had me stuck for a minute with that question. My main reason for wanting to perform was because I felt I had a message to send out. And I had some things on my chest I wanted to reveal. I thought enough of my point of view to want other people to hear it.

I looked through my book of lyrics while I thought about her question some more. Most of the stuff I had written explained my view on the current state of the world and Black people. Even the few short stories I wrote starred some Black revolutionary on