John noticed that I kept glancing at my phone and gazing towards the farm entrance.
“Yuh expectin’ someone, nuh?” he asked, a sly twinkle in his eye, a broad smile on his dark face.
“Me? No..no…I jus’ cooling.”
“I see said the blind man. If I was not as old and smart as I am, I wudda think you looking for Jah-Prince.”
“Jah who?”
“His government name is Solomon, but he named himself Jah-Prince, Jah-Princess.”
By now I was totally lost, “What are you talking about, John?” I stood up abruptly from the beach chair that I had settled onto after a mad dash from my truck to the gazebo. The rain came down again, quite suddenly and caught us on the way to John’s farm shelter. I got a good soak. John was dressed for any sneaky showers. He remained dry as chips.
“I ain’t takin’ about nutten, Princess, Jah-Princess.”
Jah-Princess seemed to be his new-found name for me. And since I had the feeling that I might not want to hear the entire story, I did not ask him why he was calling me that name.
I felt him before I saw him — a strong, rushing energy, like a powerful wave crossing an ocean that never got tired of facilitating motion — wave after wave after wave, never ending.
He was walking up the garden path. His upper body was naked except for a strap across his chest, attached was a highly polished acoustic guitar.
I sat down as abruptly as I had stood up a few minutes ago; or else John might have had to throw cold river water over me. I would have fainted, Victorian- style.
My friend glanced across at me but said nothing. He went to greet this god creation.
“Music tonight!” Rubbing callused hands with glee, John grinned at Mystic Man. Then it hit me!
His name was Solomon aka Jah-Prince. I was Jah-Princess; Oh gawd!! John must have noticed something. Trust John to see every damn thing!
“Come, come, sit. Leh me pull up a seat for you. You know Ilis, right?”
I self-consciously pulled the oversized t-shirt on loan from John closer to my body. Suddenly I felt cold, then hot, then cold again. Get that river water, John, because your girl was gonna swoon.
Deep dark brown eyes looked at me curiously. “You aight?”
A yes stumbled out. Who’s voice was that? Surely not mine, only mice squeak.
I bet John had not missed an iota of this exchange
“Play Bob’s Old Pirates, Jah-Prince, ‘cause a pirate on this farm tonight.” They both burst out laughing.
I did not get the joke. When did I ever, anyway? My friends always called me slow — the last one to get it.
Mystic Man settled down on a stool that seemed to have appeared out of no where while John got comfortable on the floor.
Gently plucking the strings, he searched for the notes and after further adjusting, he was ready. Jah-Prince lowered his eyelids and began to play.
The first strums of the guitar made their way from the conspiratorial instrument into the cool evening air and encompassed me in rapturous sweetness.
I orgasmed, then I fainted.
I. Trudie Palmer
One Love