It Can Happen to You by Phette L. Ogburn

“Hey,” from diesel2010. This is the message that popped up in my Yahoo chat. I did not recognize the sender so I typed “Hey. Who is this?” then hit enter. “This is Kenzu. I met you, unofficially, thru FB a couple of weeks ago.” I dug back in my memory bank trying to figure out who the hell this person was and how they got my information. I guess I was taking too long to respond because another message chimed in. “We were commenting on a friend’s post and I mentioned how beautiful your name is.” Ooooh! I thought. “Yeah. Yeah. I remember. Urs is just as beautiful.” “Thanks” Not wanting to chat too freely because I was still leery about how and, more importantly, why he sought me out, I left the ball in his court. “I snagged your IM off Facebook. I hope you don’t mind.” We chatted for a few minutes, making small talk. We attended the same high school, but he graduated three years after I did. We had several mutual friends. He played football, both in high school then in college, before, of course, he was injured. His photo albums on FB were full of pics of him…and his wife. He was recently married. The wedding photos were beautiful. His dark mocha skin contrasted against his crisp, white tux. She was wearing an off-white strapless gown. Her full breasts were a sneeze away from spilling up and out the dress. Her weave was long, with lots of ringlets. She was happy. Her thick lips stretched across her face in almost every pic. A few days passed. My Facebook alert chirped on my Blackberry. “Friend Request – Kenzu Brantley.” I accepted the request, which I normally did if the person “appeared” to be decent. I was heavy into networking and always looking for more people to share and learn with. Minutes later I received a message in my inbox. Hey. I enjoyed chatting with you the other day. Let’s do that again soon. Kenzu I carried on with my day – work, school, kids’ homework, cooking dinner, watching television. Yep! Had the regimen down to a science. Since I purchased a Blackberry I no longer needed to spend countless hours on the computer. I mean, I did get on it occasionally, but most all my needs were at my fingertips via Crackberry. “Cricket – Cricket” is the sound of my Yahoo messenger alert. My best friend Lana knew this was the best way to reach me. I’d long since given up on talking on the phone. Text, chat and email were the most effective ways to get my attention. “Hey S. How r u?” she typed. “I’m good girl. How r u and the baby doing?” “We good. I’m rubbing my belly right now. LOL.” “Tell her auntie luvs her & I’ll b 2 c y’all soon as she get here ” “I will. Ttyl. Luv u.” “Luv u 2.” As soon as I ended our conversation, I got another message. This time from him. “Good evening Queen” “Look at this brother trying to have game,” I said aloud to myself. “Hello there” “How was ur day” “Busy. Urs?” “Same here” I sat the phone down as I prepared the next day clothes for me and the kids. When I heard the cricket chime more than two times, I made sure to quickly plug in a response so it could look like I was fully attentive. We chatted about things from movies, sports, love and marriage, food and Facebook. “Well, it’s that time. Gotta get the girls to bed.” “Oh ok. Enjoy the rest of the night.”