Listening Groove

by Julia Mallory

One thing a man gone do is talk ya ear off. I smile, play listen, and don't take a thing in that ain't mine. The less I'm listening, the bigger the smile. I lock into the rhythm of his speaking and sync up my head nodding. I know how to time them “uh huh’s” just right.

Ain't but a few things he likely to say anyhow. His old woman on his case again about something he should have done by now. The nagged never want to face why someone bothering them in the first place. Or money. Ain't never knew a man without money problems. He owe somebody it. Or somebody owe him. Or he tryna hold on to what little he got. I definitely smile real big when the woes involve cash. I ain’t got it and if I did, I ain't partial to be divvying it to someone I ain’t liable to see after they get what they want. And my favorite problems to tune out are of the heart variety. 

Oooh, I sound terrible don't I? Baby, you don't get to be my age by staying mixed up in other people's affairs or letting people feed off ya energy. I used to be all up in people's mix. Lifting they burdens like it was my two hands on the end of their arms. Fixing things like my pocketbook was a tool box. Chile. 

Then when we'd bump heads and they'd let me know they ain't neva asked for my help. Charlene flat out told me to keep my nose out of her life and go sniff after somebody else’s business. Looked me straight in my face and pushed through her gapped teeth, “Lise, you ain't got no life of ya own!?” That hurt real bad. Real, real bad. But hurt and all, you ain't got to tell me but once. 

Now old habits don't just walk off cuz you want them gone, so I was back to my role as a burden holder. And I caught myself. And before I knew it, 20 more minutes or so had passed before the man paused. And before I could even breathe in his direction, his mouth flew back open and sucked up any interest I had in participating in his pity party. Then it hit me. He didn't need my pity, only my attention. Sure, wasn't no snacks for me at this party, but the only gift that was required was my presence. So I tried it out next time someone moved they mess in front of me. And wouldn't I be damned, they just kept rolling from thought to thought and hadn't noticed that I stopped listening or pretending to interrupt them. And I have never looked back.

But back to what I was saying. Oh, yeah, tuning out matters of the heart. I could be there all day if I tripped over those tales. Too much history. Who quit them. Who they done wrong. The one that got away. The one they wish would go away. Let some of them tell it, a lil piece of Cupid's bow was still lodged somewhere it ain't have no place being. I can't just “uh huh” through these moments, though. I have to “hmmm” and tilt my head to the side. Look in their direction, just shy of making eye contact. 

And sometimes I turn that “hmmm”  into a low hum, like background music to their sad song.

Wait. You still listening?