by Nikki Harmon
“What’s wrong Kim?” she asks. “Are you feeling ok? You look like you’re going to throw up. You’re not going to throw up, are you?” Jen asks looking disgusted.
“No, but I … I have to tell you something. Come here.” I pull her towards an empty spot on the wall.
“What’s the matter, Kim?” She looks concerned but distracted by the music.
“Something weird is happening to me. I think I can see choices?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Sometimes, I get a rumbling in my head … this sounds crazy, I know, but it’s just in the last few days … my vision blurs and I see two pictures?” Jen is looking at me like I’m crazy. “It feels like I’m seeing what would happen if I chose one thing, but I also see the other choice … it’s so weird, I know.” I stop because I see the man, the drunk and angry man come through the door. He weaves around people and starts dancing right in the middle of the floor. I stare at him. Jen turns to see what I’m looking at and spots him right away. She sucks in her breath and says, “That asshole! What is he doing here? He kept bugging me for a blowjob all day long, asshole!” I just turn and stare at her. She looks back.
“Now what were you saying? You’re having double vision? Maybe you should go to a doctor, Kim. Maybe something is wrong with your brain. Oh look, here comes Kendra.” Kendra slips over giggling.
“Whoooo girl. He is sexy!!!! But I have to remember, I love Rob. I love Rob. I. Love. Rob! But good lawd, he is sexy,” she says tucking a slip of paper into her back pocket.
Jen balks. “You did not just take his number!”
Kendra replies, “He says he’s looking to buy a house and maybe I could help him. It’s business, Jen. Strictly business. I love Rob.” But the last part just fades away as she waves again at him and then watches him walk away.
“Y’all ready to go?” asks Jen. “I have to get some sleep before Brittney is up in the morning.” “Yeah, I’m ready, I reply. “Me too,” says Kendra. “And I’m driving. Rob loaned me his car.” She shakes the keys and leads us out the club. I smile at my good fortune and we go.
Chapter 5
Tired as I am, the sound of Saturday morning cartoons always wakes me up. I throw on a robe and stumble down to the family room where Maya and Lil’ Walt are watching SpongeBob and cracking up. My mom and Walter are still sleeping, so I get us all some dry Corn Pops and settle down to watch. I remember this episode. Maya snuggles against my legs and Walt sits on my feet. At the commercial, I ask them if they would like to go to the playground today. They scream “yes” and jump on me. All my Corn Pops spill on the ground and we roll around as I tickle them. We are interrupted by a loud gasp and we look up at my mother’s pissed off face. I look around. Smashed Corn Pops everywhere.
“I’ll clean it up, Mom. I’m sorry. We just got carried away,” I say trying to extricate myself from the kids who have gone back to staring at the TV.
“Of course you are going to clean it up, Kim,” huffs my mom as she stalks off and goes into the kitchen. I hear lots of banging around. I wait until the banging subsides before I duck in to get the dust buster. Coffee is brewing and my mom is leaning against the sink looking out the window. Without looking at me, she sighs, “Should I bother cooking eggs and sausage or are they all full of sugar cereal?”
“It was just a snack until you got up. I’m sure they’re still hungry,” I say trying to unplug the duster from the charger. “Hey, can I take them to the playground today? I know I’ve been busy with school, but I have some time this morning.”
“That’s a nice idea, but we have plans today Kim. We’re going to the, uh, aquarium. Walt’s been wanting to see the jellyfish exhibit and this is the last weekend. Sorry.”
“Oh, ok, they’ll love that.” I leave to go clean up my mess, but have to wait until the commercial comes on.
“Hey guys, we’ll have to do the playground another day. You guys didn’t tell me you already have plans!” I say.
“What plans?” asks Maya. “I thought today was a free day?” My mom comes in with a cup of coffee and sits down on the couch.
“Oh, I didn’t want to tell you about it until we were sure, honey. But yeah, we’re going to the aquarium today. Won’t that be exciting?” She pats the seat next to her and Maya climbs up and snuggles in. Lil' Walt looks up and says, “Can you come, Kim?” I open my mouth to reply, but my mom answers for me. “I’m sure Kim has a lot of studying to do for school. I think the aquarium would be boring for her.” Actually, I think that I can’t remember the last time I went to the aquarium and that it might be fun but I get it, so I say nothing.
She would never say it out loud, but while she is very proud of my academics, she’s not comfortable with my “lifestyle”. She thinks it might rub off on the kids or that they may think it is ok. It doesn’t matter that my lifestyle mostly consists of going to class and studying. It doesn’t matter that I have not been out on a date in a year. It doesn’t matter that they are my brother and sister and I have taken care of them since they were born. She doesn’t want me with them even though she lets me live here. It hurts but I’m used to this pain, so I bear it and try not to be bitter about it. I get up, pat the kids on the head and go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. It’s a warm fall day. It looks beautiful outside and I want to go out, but I have a reputation to uphold. So, I decide to study until they leave so that no matter what my mom might think about me, she can’t accuse me of wasting my time or being lazy or not being serious about school. I throw on some sweats and settle down in the living room. I spread out my textbooks and flip open my laptop. Oh, I am going to look serious. I read, take notes, drink coffee and even get ahead in my Evolution class. All around me the kids eat, play, argue, get dressed, pack snacks and books for the ride over. All around me Walter Sr. is pleasant and playful with everyone, even reading over my shoulder then patting me on it. All around me my mother is a good mother, a kind mother, patient, caring and attentive. I study why and how lemurs evolved. I study natural selection and how whatever creature thrives in their environment gets to pass down their genes and influence generations to come. I look around me and wonder how many mothers influence natural selection through intent or neglect. I wonder how many creatures fight for existence despite their poor adaptations, despite their inability to best exploit the world they were born into.
They leave and I sigh a big sigh of relief. I close my eyes because I feel like crying and I will not. Absolutely not cry. I am strong, this shit is old and does not faze me. I am getting out of here in less than a year come hell or high water and I will not break. I open my eyes. I think I’m going to call Skylar.
Skylar would be a great girlfriend for me – smart, healthy, doesn’t like science but likes science fiction, cute in a Tracy Chapman kind of way, out, and a really nice person. The problem? We just aren’t attracted to each other. Oh, we tried but it felt like dating my sister; there was just no excitement whatsoever, so we became friends instead. She goes to Bryn Mawr, a small college just outside of Philadelphia, where she has her pick of politically curious white girls and quietly experimenting brown girls. Despite her crunchiness, she’s a pragmatist and a Political Science major and will probably go on to law school.
I text her and we decide to meet at Tiny Bubbles, a café in the gayborhood. Walking from Jefferson Station to 12th and Lombard is a study in contrasts. Big retail stores at the Gallery give way to small storefronts selling jewelry and phones, which switches to coffee shops to cafes to cute expensive restaurants filled with handsome young men smiling at each other. Tiny Bubbles is one of the few women owned café’s in the area so sometimes there are more than a couple of women, but it’s still primarily filled with guys. Its décor is ethereal in an underwater kind of way. Big murals on the walls fade from pale blue to midnight featuring galaxies and mermaids and creatures of all sorts floating among them. It’s relaxing and disconcerting at the same time. On the ceiling are scattered portraits of various p
eople – movie stars, famous authors, and the waiters and waitresses. Skylar is already there when I arrive. She is sitting at the table in the front window. I know she does this on purpose. Visibility is part of her personal mission. She is knee deep in a book and doesn’t notice me until I pull out my chair. She reluctantly looks up, smiles and stands up to greet me. I put down my bag and we hug hello. I know it’s another part of her mission but I don’t mind, I could use a hug today.
“Kim, you have to read this book. It’s so deep and so sad and so infuriating! Honestly, I should not read this stuff. It’s for a class so I have to read it, but how in the world am I going to be able to write an essay about it without cursing??? I don’t know. Honestly, how does this shit go on, why do we allow it? People just suck. I mean it. Except for you, Kim. People just suck… and like in a bad way.” She laughs. “So hi, how are you?” Skylar is a big talker.
“Hi,” I say laughing. “Right now, I’m scared to ask what you are reading.”
“Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow. It’s a fucking disgrace, a fucking disgrace …”
Just then the waitress comes over. She’s a beautiful light skinned woman sprinkled with brown freckles. I don’t know what it is but I’ve always thought freckles are so cute. Her hair is pulled back in a scarf, but her braids reached all the way down her back. She pulls out her little notebook and says politely, “What can I get you ladies?’ She smiles at Skylar who orders a pumpkin spice muffin and a chai tea. I’m a little distracted by her dimple.
“I’ll just have a latte,” I say.
“Are you sure you don’t want a muffin too? They are really good today.”
“Um … no thanks, I’m ok,” I say and blush.
“Ok,” she says and drifts away to clear a table before giving our order to the barista.
“So, how’s Temple?” asks Skylar.
“Oh, it’s fine. I like most of my courses this semester except this math class, which is kicking my ass.” I sigh. “How about you?”
“Oh, it’s all good. Politics of Public Education, 19th Century European Politics, Feminist Reading of Shakespeare, Microeconomics and I’m taking a pottery class.”
“Pottery?”
“It was either that or Yoga and the yoga is at 6am, so yup, pottery and I like it, it feels so cool to get messy. I’ve already made a bowl.” We laugh. The waitress returns with my latte and Skylar’s tea. She sets down the mugs and cream and sugar. All the dishes are pale blue, rounded and delicate looking. She leaves and returns a minute later with Skylar’s muffin on a beautiful blue plate covered in swirls. The muffin is a thing of beauty. Large and fluffy, with a crumbled sugar top, I can smell the pumpkin and spices from where I am sitting. Skylar smiles wide and thanks the waitress who nods and leaves.
“Man,” I sigh, “I wish I had gotten one. That looks delicious!”
“I know,” says Skylar and she says something else, but I don’t really hear her because the roar starts up in the back of my head. It fills up my brain. I’m looking at Skylar and she’s talking, but I can’t hear her. As I look down, my vision blurs. I look back at her and take a brief second to marvel at that muffin again, wishing I had ordered one. I clamp my eyes shut trying to will out the roar. I shake my head and it stops. It clears. I open my eyes. Skylar is looking at me.
“What’s wrong, Kim? Are you ok?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m ok but ….” I stop talking. Next to my coffee is a plate with a muffin. Skylar still has hers in front of her. I look at my muffin and back up to Skylar.
“What?” she asks, “Is something wrong with it? Mine looks delicious.” She picks up her muffin and takes a bite. I poke mine. I look around the café. Everything seems the same.
“How did I get a muffin?” I ask Skylar.
“Um, you ordered it and the waitress brought it,” she replies talking slowly and rolling her eyes.
“I didn’t order a muffin,” I say.
“Yes, you did,” she replies. “But if you don’t want it, I’m sure you can send it back.”
“No,” I say slowly. “I want it, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t order it. I don’t remember …” As I’m saying I don’t remember, it’s not true. I do remember.
The waitress said, “Are you sure you don’t want a muffin, too? They are really good today.”
“Um … ok, thanks.” I had said and blushed.
Skylar starts talking about the book she was reading and I pretend to listen, nodding and making noises of agreement and disgust as necessary, but in another part of my mind, I’m mulling over what happened. I did not order a muffin. I did order a muffin. The muffin appeared. The roar … what is happening to me?
We finish paying for our food, leaving a generous tip for the waitress and walk out into the street.
“Listen,” Skylar says. “You seem a little distracted so I’m going to get going. I have to finish this reading and then I have the pottery wheel reserved from 5-7 tonight. There’s a girl party on campus tonight if you want to come. It’s a costume party, though. I’m going as Angela Basset.”
“Angela as Tina Turner?”
“No, Angela as Marie LeVeau in American Horror Story.” I give her a blank stare.
“Voodoo priestess from New Orleans?” She looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Oh, sounds fun, I think, but I don’t know if I’m up for that.”
“Well, let me know, should be fun, you know people are less inhibited in costume. Even you might get laid.”
“Ha.” I reply but it caught my attention. “I’ll let you know.” We hug goodbye and she set off down the street. I stood there, enjoying the sun on my face and wondering who I could talk to about, I don’t even know what to call it. This shift?? I decide to go to Temple, maybe I’ll find someone to talk to in the science library. I head back to the train station.
∆∆∆
At the library, I wander around looking for anyone I might know, but I don’t find anybody. I walk through the stacks perusing book titles. I look in all the carousels, along the banks of computers, and into the private study rooms. There are mostly white men, some Asian men, a few white and Asian women and me. Nobody even looked up. I thought for a while that I might be invisible. I used to think that a lot when I was growing up. I would speak in school and no one would hear or if they heard, no one would answer. I could move through crowds at school, or in the streets and no one would catch my eye. No smiles, no frowns, no nothing. I used to imagine that I had the super power of invisibility and that I could and should use it for the betterment of humankind but I never figured out any way to make use of it. I would much rather have liked the ability to fly. At least it would be practical and save me transportation money. I knock over a book. People look up and for a moment they see me. Satisfied, I walk out. The air is crisp, but the sun is warm. The leaves scurry about. I decide to go to the lab.
∆∆∆
Temple’s campus is bustling and crowded all week long, but on the weekends, you rarely see professors. I suppose they must have real lives elsewhere. So, when I walk into the Science building, I’m expecting it to be quiet with maybe a student or two trying to catch up on research or an assignment. What I hear is an argument, a loud one-sided argument, so I surmise the other party is on the phone. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s Professor Patel. I’ve never heard him speak in anything more than an elevated whisper. I stop walking and pay attention.
“No, you have the wrong person, the wrong Patel.” Silence. Then, “I have told you sir, you can threaten me all you like but I do not do that kind of research. I study plant biology. My expertise is in plant kinesiology. I don’t dabble in other fields. You have the wrong man.” Silence. Then, “I cannot spend any more time arguing about this. You have incorrect information. Now, I must go!” I hear a quiet beep, then a moment of silence before frantic paper rustling and drawers slamming open and close. I have no idea what to do. I probably should just leave. It was definitely not something meant for me
to hear but I am intrigued. Who would threaten a biology professor? I mean really, he studies plants. I decide to stay.
Just as I fake open the main door again, he comes out of his office and sees me.
“Kim!” he says kind of loudly and accusingly. A robust man around sixty, with warm brown skin that compliments his silvery hair, he usually glows with friendliness and enthusiasm. Today he looks shriveled and ashen and tense.
“Oh hi, Professor Patel! I was just coming in to see you. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I sound as false as I feel. He looks guilty as sin for a second, then composes his face as he re-adjusts his bulging briefcase.
“Yes, it is beautiful outside. I just popped in to get some work to look over this weekend. And you? Are you here for work too? Or just for fun?” He smiles, but his eyes are studying me.
“I was just coming from the Science Library. I was hoping to find a study buddy for the afternoon, but it seems like no one is around today.”
“Oh, ok, well I’m going to get going.” He turns to close and lock his office door.
“Professor, I do have a question for you. Last night, I covered a shift for Peter Clark. How come his lab is not isolated like mine? His workstation was in a lab with at least eight other stations and there was Wi-Fi and electricity. I thought it was important to isolate from all variables.”
Professor Patel clears his throat and switches his briefcase from his right hand to his left. “Oh, I didn’t know you covered for Peter. I don’t remember seeing that on the log.”
“Oh yeah, well it was last minute, maybe they haven’t been corrected yet.” He looks thoughtful, but is silent.