CHAPTER 2

The First Hour.

I put my food in the middle of the table for us to share. I laughed at how wide open I was feeling. Fantasi Powers, so gleefully willing to share Harold’s? My cousins would curse me out if they saw this shit.

“Have some.” I suggested as he sat across the booth staring at me.

“I’m going to get back in line after they order,” he said pointing at a cute elderly couple in line.

“After we eat, would you like to go downtown? I have to take some pictures for my website.” Gwen asked.

“Yes, that would be perfect. I was planning to go to The Loop after this to take a picture of myself at Movies in the Park. Mahogany is playing.”

I pulled out my Kodak point and click disposable camera. At the tender age of twenty-eight I knew the value of not just remembering the moments but actually having tangible proof of this grand life of mine. I passed the camera to Gwen. He examined it for a while then opened his backpack and pulled out a film camera. He passed it to me, grabbed a fry and went to stand in line still holding my camera.

The smell of mild sauce was still intoxicating after all these years. I always ate all my fries first. Wings taste good the next day, but fries never did. I finished my last fry and started eating a wing. Gwen came back with his food. We sat in a booth on the South Side of Chicago and created a new magical energy. We were strangers staring deep into each others eyes, eating at the best Harold's in the city.

“So were you born and raised in Chicago?” he asked after taking a swig of his Kiwi Mistic.

“Depends on your philosophy. I didn't go to a Chicago Public High School.” I responded.

“High Schools are like the zodiac sign of the South Side,” he joked.

“I was born in Chicago but my family actually owns a farm in Pembroke. We moved there when I was twelve. I came back to Chicago when I was eighteen to go to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago for my BFA. And I’ve been back in Chicago ever since. You? Are you born and raised?” I asked. But of course he was. The only people who try and weed out the transplants are native Chicagoans.

“Yes. My parents still live in my childhood home in Chatham. I live in Bronzeville now, of course in pursuit of Gwendolyn Brooks.”

“I live in Bronzeville too.” I said cleaning the meat off of a chicken bone with my teeth. “I really can’t believe you are named after The Gwendolyn Brooks.”

“And my mom won’t believe I met this year's BHF winner today,” he smiled as he stuffed some fries in his mouth. His lips looked so soft.

“Take a picture to give her a visual. They will announce tomorrow at eight in the morning.”

I still had his camera by me. I had never used a 35mm but I had always wanted to.

“So do you develop these yourself?” I asked, pointing at the camera with mild sauce on my fingertips.

“I don't but actually it is my summer 2019 goal to make a dark room in my apartment and learn. I take the film to get developed at a camera shop in The Loop but I really want to learn. The process is so beautiful, so sacred.”

He was so passionate. I was so interested in learning what else he spoke about that way. I was excited to spend the day with Gwen. I was excited that we wouldn’t be parting ways when we finished our food because I was almost done with my wings and I did not want this feeling to end.

“So what do you do with the photos you develop on your camera?” he asked.

“I put them all in photo albums. I have a really good collection going so far. I really love archiving my life.” I said. He smiled at me.

“I have never actually seen someone order eight wings. It’s giving abundance.” I joked. I was all done with my wings, fries and piece of bread. I moved my bone filled paper boat to the side. It was still sunny and each moment was feeling like a South Side fairytale.

“I order eight wings so I can eat all my fries, and two wings. Then save the six piece for later in the day.” He said.

“Interesting — because I always start with the fries, but the goal is always to eat it all in one sitting.”

“Want a wing?” he asked.

“Do you really want to share or are you just trying to impress me?” I asked, staring into his eyes.

“I am really sharing. I don't want to have to carry a doggie bag around for today's adventure.” He laughed. I grabbed a wing.

“I really can’t believe I won this grant, Gwen. Today is a very special day.” I said before taking a bite.

“I am certain you deserve it. I know I have only known you for a few minutes short of an hour but you seem like a very special human who makes very special art that matters. I am sure both Langston Hughes and Gwendolyn Brooks would support the decision for you to be the grant recipient this year. What was the medium of the piece that you submitted?” He asked.

“I make experimental films. A lot of collaged footage and images synched to music. My piece for BFH was twenty-seven minutes long. It is the longest one I have ever made.” I said.

“I am proud of you! Congratulations, Fantasi. Have as many wings as you want. Happy Summer’s Eve.”

Thank you to each and every person who purchased a pre-order, signed copy.

This is my seventh book and the first time I have ever done pre-orders and a virtual launch.

It means the world to me that you supported me weeks before your copy of Our Favorite Place would arrive.

You all are the fuel. You all gave me courage, gave me resources. You gave me a reminder that this is all so possible.

I am a writer who went to Paris to write a romance novel because one day I was buying Harold’s and thought — damn it would be so cool to fall in love with some random man I met in here.

Pre-Orders are done. Books have been shipped. My first romance novel is a tangible object. I am grateful. I am excited.

I painted my own book cover. Edited my own manuscript. Spent my savings on a solo trip to the city of love to give myself the space to finish this project.

Three years after creating the Google Doc for the novel, formally titled — “Mild Sauce” — my newest work of art is finally complete.

Trust the process. Believe that you are exactly who you say you are.

Cheers to another book by Kyel Joi Brooks.