Chapters of Heart (Audiobook Series) Chapter 1 and 2

Thank you for tuning in to season 7 of Concepts and Conversations with yours Truly coach Brian will we discuss a little bit of life a little bit of progression and a little bit of growth one day one moment at a time thanks for tuning in my hope is that with this episode is over it leaves you with a greater perspective on life thanks for tuning in now let's enjoy the episode all right y'all welcome you to Concepts and Conversations videos truly coach Brian will we discuss a little bit of life a little bit of progression and a little bit of growth one day one moment at a time so it is November 4th 2025 and I am so excited about what I'm getting ready to introduce you to now I've done many episodes this year and I've found out many things but one of the things that I want to do was I wanted to get into the art of storytelling and there was a book that I wrote back in 2010 I was going through one of the more difficult times for my life was a breakup and this book that I had written was a story that I I decided to write to help my mind get over the recent heartbreak that I had experienced now I've been sitting on it for a number of years and so now I think it's time to come out but I wanted to do something special with it so as you're listening to this episode you will be given chapters one and two of my upcoming book chapters of the heart where it takes place in the late 90s or the 2000s of a young man who has run into what he would consider to be the woman that he's dreamed of and all of the different things that go on are with it so chapters one and two now before we even get into chapters one and two going to put a nice soundtrack that is going to give you a little bit of nostalgia as you prepare for the story a nice groove for in the 90s into 2000s that'll take you to the beginning of the story chapters at the heart right after the selection when my daydreams faded real life took the stage a world bigger than my little room a heart stepping out of its cage and there she was a gentle light a spark I couldn't ignore the story that began when I stopped just dreaming and started reaching for more we walked through the echoes of days I never knew I miss every conversation blooming into something like a gentle twist I found a world beyond the sky I had drawn inside my mind standing at the edge of something real I left my fears behind so here's to the moment when the words found away from a whisper in my soul to the courage to say that life is a canvas and love is the art and every new chapter is a door to the heart and now with every sunrise I see a wider view a life that's painted with the colors of the dreams that lead me we write our story only on pages still unknown and every step we take together is a verse we call our rules so here's to the moment when the words found away from a whisper in my soul to the courage to say that life is a canvas and love is the art and every new chapter is a door to the heart so take this song and let it linger let it whisper in your ear that every story born from courage is a song that we can hear and as a chapter's keep unfolded know you never far apart from the place where dreams meet voices right here in the heart [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] if she heard it, if she was even listening, if she even cared anymore. I turned off the radio to Racer Rodriguez was in Los Angeles, probably with him, living the life she'd always dreamed of, and I was here about to marry someone else. This was the right choice, the safe choice, the logical choice. So why did it feel like the biggest mistake of my life? I took a deep breath and picked up my phone to check the time, 54 minutes. Chapter one, the invitation Atlanta, Georgia, September 2000, and one graduate school was predictable, and I liked it that way. Wake up at 7am, teach two sections of calculus to as a teaching assistant for Professor Harrigan at Georgia State University. Grade papers until my eyes blurred. Grab lunch at the student center usually alone, always with a textbook prop beside my tray, then back to the library for my own coursework. Numbers didn't lie, equations had solutions, mathematics was safe. It was a Wednesday afternoon in late September and I was walking back from lunch when she appeared, not appeared that sounds too magical. She walked up to me deliberately, holding a stack of neon green flyers and wearing a smile that could probably be seen from across campus. Hi, I'm Teresa. We're having a showcase tomorrow night, poetry, and music. You should come. She held out a flyer. I stopped walking, mostly because she was directly in my path. Up close, she was striking light brown curly hair, green eyes, the kind of confidence I'd never possessed in my 22 years of existence. I took the flyer, poetry, and music showcase Thursday 7 30 p.m. student center. Thanks, but I'm pretty busy. I've got a lot of work to do. It's just one hour. She tilted her head studying me. Come on, you look like you could use a break from all those math books. My face flushed. How did she know I studied math? I'm David, I said, because I didn't know what else to say. David, she repeated my name like she was testing how it sounded. Well, David, I'm performing tomorrow night singing. I promise it'll be worth your time. There was something in her voice, not just confidence, but a hopefulness like she really wanted people to show up like it mattered. What time did you say 7 30? Student center. Her smile widened. Does that mean you're coming? I'll think about it. Great. She was already moving to the next group of students. Hope to see you there, David. And just like that, she was gone, absorbed into the crowd. I looked down at the flyer in my hand, then shoved it into my backpack. There was no way I was going. I had a problem said, do Friday 32 calculus exams to grade in a thesis proposal that wasn't going to write itself. A showcase was the last thing I needed. By 11 p.m. that night, I'd finished the problem set and graded half the exams. And I couldn't stop thinking about her smile. This was ridiculous. She probably handed out 100 flyers today. I was nobody special. I pulled out the flyer and stared at it. Uncle Devon's voice echoed in my head. Boy, you spend so much time with numbers. You're starting to act like a baby goat too scared to step outside the pen. I crumpled the flyer and tossed it toward the trash can. It missed. I sighed, picked it up, and smoothed it out. Tomorrow was Thursday. My lightest day. I could go for an hour. Support the arts. Then come back and finish grading. It didn't mean anything. Thursday, September 27th, 2001, I told myself all day I wasn't going. I sat through Professor Harrigan's morning lecture on multi-variable calculus. I held my office hours, helping confuse the freshmen understand derivatives. I graded another 10 exams. By 7 p.m. I was sitting in my apartment near campus, staring at my computer screen trying to work on my thesis proposal. The curse of blinked mockingly. 7 p.m. If I left now, I'd only miss the opening acts. I grabbed my keys. The student center was more crowded than I expected. At least 200 people crammed into the commons area. Someone had transformed the space into a coffee house setting with small tables, dim lighting, and candles everywhere. I found a spot near the back, standing room only, and tried to blend into the crowd. A guy with dreadlocks was finishing up a spoken word piece about growing up in Atlanta. The crowd snapped their fingers in appreciation. Then a girl with a guitar saying something soft and melancholy. Then another poet, "I checked my watch. Maybe she wasn't performing. Maybe I could just. Our next performer is a senior here at State. And she's blessed us at every showcase this semester. Please welcome Teresa Rodriguez. My chest tightened as she walked onto the small stage. She looked different under the spotlight, more nervous, more vulnerable than she'd been in the cafeteria. She adjusted the microphone stand, closed her eyes for a brief moment, and nodded to the small band behind her keyboard, bass, drums. The band started playing and she began to sing. It was love by Musique's old child. Her voice was. I don't even know how to describe it. Warm and aching and honest. Like she was singing about something real, something she'd live through. Every note was perfectly placed. But it wasn't technical perfection that got me. It was the emotion, the vulnerability. Love, so many things I've got to tell you, but I'm afraid. I don't know how. The entire room went silent. You could hear every word, every breath. When she hit the bridge, her voice soared, and I felt something shift in my chest. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. By the time she finished, the applause was deafening. I clapped until my palms hurt. She smiled, genuinely smiled, and I could see the relief wash over her face. She'd been nervous, but she killed it. I should have left then. I'd seen what I came to see, but I stayed through the rest of the showcase, watching two more poets in another singer. When it was over, people swarmed the performers. I saw Teresa laughing with a group of friends near the stage and I realized she didn't even know I came. That was fine. Better even. I turned to leave David. I froze. She was standing a few feet away. Her eyes wide with surprise. You came. Yeah, I finished my work early. A lie, but a harmless one. Her smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Thank you, really. That means a lot. You were really good. Thanks. She glanced back at her friends then at me. Hey, a bunch of us are going to Applebees. You want to come? Every logical part of my brain screamed no. I had 15 exams still waiting. I had work to do. But I heard myself say, sure. Applebees on Piedmont was packed with the usual Thursday night crowd students, families, people who just gotten off work. The hostess set our group about eight people at a long table near the back. I ended up at one end next to a guy named Marcus who immediately started talking about the Falcons. Teresa was at the other end of the table animated and laughing completely in her element. I ordered chicken tenders and a sprite and mostly stayed quiet listening to conversations swirl around me inside jokes. I didn't understand references to people. I didn't know the usual social dynamics of people who know each other for years. I felt like an anthropologist observing a different species around 10 p.m. people started filtering out. Marcus left to meet up with his girlfriend. Two girls had an early class. Eventually it was down to four of us than three. Then just me and Teresa as the last person a guy named Andre say good night. Sorry if that was overwhelming. Teresa slid down to my end of the table. My friends can be a lot. They're fine. They seem nice. They are. She picked at the remnants of her fries. So what do you really think of the performance? I told you you were really good. But but nothing you were great. Your voice is incredible. She studied me for a moment. You sound like you actually know music. Not just like casual listening. I shifted uncomfortably. My dad was into music. Jazz mostly. I grew up around it. Was? He died when I was eight. Hard attack. Her expression softened immediately. I'm so sorry David. It's okay. It was a long time ago. Still she paused. My dad died last year. Cancer. I'm sorry. Thanks. She looked down at her plate. Music was this thing too. He played guitar. Wrote songs nothing famous, but he loved it. That's where I got it from We sat in comfortable silence for a moment two strangers bonded by loss Anyway, she said shaking off the heaviness. I'm glad you came tonight Most people say they will and then don't show up Well, you said it would be worth my time. You were right. She smiled. Good. Well, I should probably let you get back to your math homework or whatever. Yeah I've got exams to finish grading. Of course you do She stood up grabbing her purse. Hey, I'm usually at the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays third floor by the windows If you're ever there come say hi. Yeah, maybe I will Cool. See you around David See you around As I drove home that night. I realized something had shifted for the first time in months Graduate school felt a little less lonely Early October, 2001. I didn't see Teresa at the library the following Tuesday or the Thursday after that Which was fine. I had work to do anyway real work a thesis proposal that was eating me alive Papers to grade and professor Herrigan breathing down my neck about my research timeline But I'd be lying if I said I didn't glance up every time someone walked past my usual spot on the third floor It was the second Tuesday in October around two 45 p.m. When she finally appeared I was deep into a differential equations problem when I heard someone drop their bag on the table across for me I knew you'd be here. I Looked up Teresa was standing there with a Starbucks cup in one hand and a stack of textbooks in the other wearing a Georgia state hoodie in jeans Hey, hey yourself. She sat down without asking mind if I work here Everywhere else is packed. No go ahead She pulled out a thick communications textbook and a yellow highlighter For about 20 minutes. We both worked in silence. It was comfortable Then she looked up. What are you working on partial differential equations? For my thesis She made a face That sounds horrible. It kind of is What's your thesis about Mathematical modeling of heat distribution in non-uniform materials She blinked I Understood maybe four of those words. I laughed basically how heat moves through things that aren't perfectly smooth Why? Because it's interesting if you say so She took a sip of her coffee I'm working on a PR case study We have to analyze a real campaign and explain what worked and what didn't That actually sounds more interesting than what I'm doing It's not trust me she smiled, but at least when I'm done Normal people can understand what I'm talking about We fell back into silence working side-by-side around 430 She closed her book and stretched coffee break I glanced at my work. I was behind schedule. I really should keep going Sure and just like that a routine began chapter two third Floor Tuesday in Thursday, October 2000 and one The Tuesday and Thursday library sessions became routine We'd meet around 2 p.m. on the third floor Claim our spots by the windows overlooking the campus quad and work in comfortable silence for a few hours Sometimes we take coffee breaks at the Starbucks on the first floor Sometimes we quiz each other though. She understood my calculus about as well as I understood her public relations theory It was easy low pressure no expectations I learned things about her gradually Small details that built a bigger picture She was from Miami originally, but her family had moved to Atlanta when she was in high school Her younger brother Carlos was a junior at Douglas High and played point guard on the basketball team She worked part-time at the Barnes and Noble and Buckhead to help with rent Her favorite food was her mom's arrows come polo And she was convinced no restaurant in Atlanta could make it right She never mentioned having a boyfriend Never mentioned Raymond Jones are being engaged And I didn't ask One Thursday in late October she showed up looking exhausted You okay? Long week, two midterms, a presentation, and I'm singing at another showcase Saturday night I haven't even had time to practice Another showcase? Yeah At this little spot and little five points. Eddie's attic You know it? I shook my head. It's tiny compared to the student center Maybe 50 people max But it's a real venue like Actual musicians perform there. She rubbed her eyes. I'm thinking about back and out. I just don't have the energy You shouldn't back out Why not? Because you're talented people should hear you She looked at me surprised you really think so. Yeah, I do Thanks David that actually helps When is it? Saturday night 8 p.m She hesitated you're probably busy But if you wanted to come I'll try I've got a lot of grading to do. I know mr. Busy She grinned, but if you finish early Maybe Saturday, October 27th 2001, I told myself I wouldn't go I had 32 calculus exams to grade by Monday. I was behind on my thesis. I needed to focus But by 7 30 p.m. I'd finished 20 exams and couldn't concentrate anymore Eddie's attic was only 20 minutes from my apartment Just for one hour. I told myself The venue was everything she described intimate dimly lit With exposed brick walls in the small stage Maybe 40 people were scattered around tables and at the bar I found a seat near the back just as the host introduced toresso She walked on stage wearing jeans in a simple black top Her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She looked nervous More nervous than at the student center Hey, everyone. I'm Teresa Thanks for being here the small crowd applauded politely She nodded to the guy with an acoustic guitar behind her and he started playing This time she sang butterflies by Michael Jackson And once again her voice filled the room and made everything else disappear There was something about the way she performed not just technically good but emotionally present Like she wasn't performing at all Just sharing something honest and vulnerable When she finished the applause was warm and genuine A few people even stood up She caught my eye from the stage and her face lit up with surprise After her set she made her way over to my table You came I finished migrating early Another lie. I still had 12 exams waiting at home I'm really glad you're here. She glanced back at the stage where another performer was setting up You want to get out of here grab some food? Sure We ended up at the majestic diner on Ponce de Leon one of those 24 hour places with vinyl booths greasy food And servers who look like they've been working there since the 70 seconds We slid into a corner booth and she Ordered a waffle with a side of bacon Um, I got a burger and fries Thanks for coming tonight. It means a lot most people say they'll come and then don't show up You keep saying that because it's true. She took a bite My my friends are supportive in everything, but they're busy with their own stuff You actually showed up twice now you're good. It's worth showing up for She looked at me for a long moment. Can I ask you something? Sure Why don't you ever talk about yourself like I feel like I'm always talking about my stuff school music whatever, but you're kind of mysterious I laughed. I'm not mysterious. I'm boring. You're not boring. You're discarded She wasn't wrong. I guess I'm just used to keeping to myself grad school doesn't leave a lot of room for socializing Well, I'm glad you made room for me We stayed at that diner until almost midnight talking about everything and nothing She told me about growing up in Miami About how different Atlanta felt about her dreams of working in the music industry one day I told her about Uncle Devon raising me after my dad died about how He had all these strange sayings and compared everything to goats goats Yeah, if I mess up I'm acting like a baby goat If I'm scared to take a risk, I'm too scared to leave the pin That's amazing. I need to meet this Uncle Devon He'd probably love you. He's always on me about not being social enough Well, you're being social right now. Yeah, I guess I am When we finally left the diner she walked me to my car Thanks for tonight. I needed this Me too same time Tuesday. Yeah same time Good night, David. good night. As I drove home, I realized I hadn't thought about my thesis or my grading once all night. For the first time in months, I just lived. November 2001, the leaves turned golden and red across Georgia State's campus. The weather cooled down Atlanta's version of fall, which meant you could finally step outside without immediately sweating. Teresa and I fell deeper into our routine. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at the library became sacred. We'd both rearrange our schedules to make sure we were there. Other students started recognizing us, the study couple, someone called us once, which made both of us laugh awkwardly and insist we were just friends, which we were just friends. Even if I was starting to look forward to those afternoons more than anything else in my week, even if I found myself checking my phone, hoping she text, even if I caught myself staring at her sometimes when she was deep in concentration, highlighter in hand, mouthing words to herself as she read. One Tuesday in mid-November, she showed up with a care package from her mom and looked at this, she pulled out containers of homemade flan, pastelitos, and croquettes. My mom thinks I'm starving to death. Are you? I mean, I'm not, not starving. She pushed a container toward me. Here, you look like you could use some real food. I tried a croquetta. It was possibly the best thing I'd eaten in weeks. These are incredible, right? My mom's an amazing cook. I did not inherit that gene. She took one for herself, what about you? You going home for Thanksgiving? Yeah. Uncle Devon's place. He's indicator, so not far. You? Miami. Flying out Wednesday. She paused. I'm kind of dreading it, honestly. Why? It's the first Thanksgiving without my dad. Her voice got quiet. My mom's trying to pretend everything's normal, but it's not going to be the same. I didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone facing a table with an empty chair? I'm sorry. It's okay. I'll get through it. She forced a smile. At least the food will be good, right? Silver lining. Exactly. We sat there for a moment and I realized this had become more than study sessions. We were actually friends, real friends. Monday, November 26th, 2001 Thanksgiving break came and went. I spent four days at Uncle Devon's house indicator eating turkey and listening to him lecture me about wasting my prime years buried in textbooks. You're 22 years old, boy. When are you going to start living? I am living. I'm getting my masters. That's existing, not living. You got friends up there at school. I thought about Teresa a few. Any of them female, Uncle Devon. I'm just asking. You are a decent looking kid when you're not hiding behind those glasses. You act like a baby goat sometimes too scared to step out of the pin and see what's out there. There it was. The goat analogy. I'm focused on school. He gave me that look. The one that said he didn't believe me but would let it slide. Just don't let life pass you by while you're staring at equation, son. Tuesday, November 27th, 2001, Teresa was already at our spot when I got to the library. Hey, how was your break? Good. Eight too much. You same. My mom made enough food for the entire neighborhood. She paused. It was hard, though, without my dad. I'm sorry. Thanks. She shook it off. But I'm glad to be back. Honestly, being here is easier. Fewer memories, you know? I nodded. I understood that more than she knew. We fell into our usual routine working quietly, occasional comments, coffee breaks, but something felt different. Lighter, maybe. Like we'd cross some invisible threshold over the break. Around 4 p.m., she closed her textbook and looked at me. Sure. Why math? Like of all the things you could study, why spend your life proving theorems? I'd never really thought about it before. It had always just been what I did. I guess because it makes sense. Numbers don't lie. There's always a right answer, even if it takes time to find it. Everything else in life is messy and unpredictable, but math is solid. That makes sense. Especially after losing your dad so young, you wanted something you could count on. I felt exposed like she just read something I didn't know I'd written. Yeah, I guess so. That's not a bad thing, David. She smiled. We all cope differently. For me, it's music. When everything else is chaotic, I can sing and it all makes sense again. Is that why you want to work in music? Yeah. I want to help artists tell their stories. Be the person who makes that possible. She paused. I know it sounds cheesy. It doesn't. It sounds like you actually care. I do. She leaned back. I just hope I'm good enough. You are. She looked at me in something past between us, something I couldn't quite name. Thanks, David. You're a good friend. Friend, the word should have made me happy and it did. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice wondered if that's all I wanted to be. I pushed the thought away. January 2nd, 2002, I drove back to Atlanta on January 2nd, ready for spring semester to start. My apartment near campus felt empty and quiet after a week at Uncle Devons. I unpacked, did laundry, tried to get back into school mode. My phone buzzed around 8 p.m. Teresa, back in ATL, coffee tomorrow before classes start. My heart did that flutter thing again. Me, sure. Campus Starbucks at 2, Teresa, perfect. Can't wait to hear about your thrilling break LOL. Me, same to you. Teresa, oh, trust me, nothing thrilling about family asking when you're getting married and giving them grandchildren. Me, Uncle Devon asked me the same thing about dating. Teresa, what did you tell him? Me, that I'm focused on school. Teresa, good answer. Me too. Boys are too much drama anyway. I stared at that message for a long moment. Boys are too much drama. Which meant she wasn't looking for a relationship. Which meant I definitely needed to keep my feelings to myself. Me, agreed. See you tomorrow. Teresa, night David, I set my phone down and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Uncle Devon's words echoed, feelings don't stay put. They grow whether you want them to or not. He was right. But knowing that didn't make it any easier. Thursday, January 3rd, 2002, Teresa was already at Starbucks when I arrived, sitting at a corner table with two cups in front of her. I got you black coffee. I remembered. She remembered my order. Thanks. So, how was the rest of your break? Good. Helped Uncle Devon with projects around the house. Eight too much. The usual. You survived the family interrogation about my love life, avoided my ex's neighborhood, gained five pounds from my mom's cooking. She rolled her eyes, standard Miami holiday experience. Your ex lives in Miami? Yeah. Raymond's parents still live there. I haven't seen him since, since everything happened. But Miami's not that big. It's always a risk. That must be hard. It is. But it's been over a year now. I'm doing better. She looked at me being here helps having friends like you helps friends. There was that word again. I'm glad. We talk for another hour about classes starting next week about her brother's basketball season about my thesis progress or lack thereof. It felt normal, easy. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of just a few months. But I was paying closer attention now to the way she smiled when I made a dumb joke to the way she leaned forward when she was really interested in what I was saying. To the way she'd absolutely touch my arm when she laughed, Uncle Devon's words kept playing in my head. Timing matters. So I'd wait. Be patient. Let things develop naturally. And hope that when the time was right I'd have the courage to actually say something. (upbeat music)