by Nikki Harmon
What was that all about? No longer feeling comfortable, I gather my things and start to head out. I hesitate when I think I hear something in Patel’s office. After a minute, I decide I’m hearing things and I get out of there. It’s been a long day, and I just want to go home.
∆∆∆
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking down my block when I hear a car horn. I turn to see a familiar old Lincoln. Meer. She stops and rolls down the window.
“Hey Meer!”
“Hey Kim! I’m on my way to pick up Tamika. You want to come again?” she asks smiling in that easy way of hers. After today, I could use a little fun but … I look up at the house and sigh.
“Hmmm … I have some work to do but what about picking me up after the game? Maybe we can get something to eat?” I say.
“Something to eat, hmmm … sounds almost like a date …” she drawls.
“Maybe it is,” I retort. “So, yes or no?” She laughs.
“Definitely yes. I’ll be here about 8:30, ok?”
“Ok. I’m at this house,” I say pointing. “Text me when you get here, ok?”
“I can come to the door …”
“No,” I cut her off, “It’ll be better if I just come out.”
“Ok, no problem. See ya then.” She pulls off cursing about the time.
∆∆∆
I walk in the door just as my family is finishing dinner. After I decline a plate, my mom asks if I will get the kids bathed and ready for bed while she cleans up the kitchen. Happy for the distraction, I do. It’s more work than I remembered, but I haven’t done it for so long that I really enjoy it. Lil’ Walt’s naked booty dance makes me forget all about metal walls and thick accents. As I settle them down to read one of the Magic Tree House books, my phone buzzes with a text. I jump up and apologize to the kids telling them the truth – I had forgotten all about meeting my friend. I kiss them good night and run into my room to put on something … nicer. My mom hears the commotion and comes upstairs. When she passes me in the hall, she just shakes her head and takes my place on the bed. Texting Meer that I am on my way, I flick through my closet, pulling out a low-cut V-neck shirt and change into my “going out” jeans. I slip on my leather boots from the other night, have a brief flashback of Saturday night’s adventure with Wonder Woman, spritz on some Lady Gaga perfume and am out the door.
I don’t know why I rushed because when I get to the car, Meer is laid back in the seat, relaxing and listening to The Roots. I get her attention, open the door, and slide in.
“Hi! … Where are we going?”
Grinning, she says, “I know you enjoy a messy sandwich so I thought we could go to this little spot near my house. They have really good sandwiches and a pool table.”
“Around your house? Hmm ... Ok, let’s go,” I say. We head up Broad Street, past Temple and turn right onto Fairmount.
“I didn’t know you lived all the way up here,” I say.
“Yup. It used to be just North Philly but now it's “Fairmount’,” she says, making air quotes. We make a few turns, then park next to The Tumble-Down Lounge.
“It used to be called “Juanita’s” but you know, new ownership.” I nod. We go in and get a booth towards the back. It’s a decent-sized place with a large bar in the middle, a couple of tables in the front, a few booths on the side and a pool table in the back, a little something for everyone. Meer knows the bartender, the waitress and a couple of people at the bar. She greets them and they nod and smile back at her. We sit and I pick up the menu. The sandwich menu is several pages long, and I have a hard time deciding. She recommends the pulled pork sandwich, so I go with that while she orders some grilled salmon and sweet potato fries. She orders a beer; I ask for a Sprite.
“So, how was your week?” she asks leaning forward on her elbows. I think back on my week and sigh. I can’t even begin to explain it to myself much less approach it with her.
“My week was quite insane and complicated. Let’s talk about you. How was your week? Oh, wait, how was your game? Did you make it on time tonight?”
She laughs and shakes her head, “No, but it wasn’t my fault this time, there was traffic….” She tells me about the game including her last-second shot which won it. I’m skeptical about this, but she assures me that it’s true. She tells me about her week working for her Uncle Teddy, a kitchen supply wholesaler with a bootlegging side hustle. As she starts to explain how she got tricked into recording a kids’ movie with her little cousins, she stops, sits back, crosses her arms and looks at me.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but in high school, I never noticed how pretty you were. Was I blind? How did I not see you?”
I’m not sure how to feel about this confession, so I just laugh and say, “Thank you? I think. Maybe you were just too busy with all those other girls to see me.”
“What other girls? I had like one girlfriend in high school, and she didn’t even go to our school. She went to Girls High.”
“Oh really? I seem to remember you being surrounded by girls all the time.”
“Maybe my teammates and some friends. But no girl girls, I might have been out but I was definitely solo most of the time.” Our food comes and it smells divine. Before I get a chance to take a bite she asks, “What about you? Did you have a girlfriend in high school?” I take my bite and think about how to answer that while I chew. Oh my god, it tastes as good as it smells. I must have moaned out loud because all of a sudden she is looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“What?” I ask, covering my mouth.
“Are you always that … expressive? Damn, I know it’s a good sandwich, but you are enjoying that a little too much. I’m getting fired up over here just watching you.” She laughs but she looks a little … intense.
“I’m pretty good at expressing myself when the mood strikes me,” I say and take another big bite. This time I close my eyes and moan on purpose. She laughs and begins to eat her sandwich.
“It’s probably a good thing we didn’t meet in high school. I think you would have been too much for me!”
“Ha! I think you would have been too much for me! I don’t know how you could be so brave. Gay/straight alliance or not, it was terrifying to come out to the few friends I trusted, and even then, I was sure they were going to reject me.”
“Did they?” she asks.
“No, not my friends. They were cool.”
“I didn’t have a choice in coming out. I mean, look at me. I was born dykey. People have been calling me gay since I was six or seven. I didn’t know what it meant but I didn’t argue. I just played ball, made friends and tried to just be me.”
“Still, I thought you were brave.”
“Oh yeah? What do you think now?” she asks.
“Now? Now, I think you’re kind of cute,” I say. She blushes. I laugh and eat my sandwich.
After we finish eating and pay the bill, we get up to play pool. There is a couple playing ahead of us, so we just hang out by the jukebox while we wait. At one point, she holds my hand. At another, I kiss her cheek. When it’s our turn, I confess that I can’t play at all and everything I know about pool has to do with how I learned physics in high school.
“I’m a good teacher,” she says. She sets up the balls and breaks. The balls scatter. I’m already intimidated, but I’m a good sport.
“Ooh, I should have known you would be a good player. You got two down the holes!”
“Number one, you don’t “play” pool, you “shoot” pool. Number two, they are called “pockets”, not holes. Number three, I got two solids down the pockets so I’m solids, and you are stripes. Grab a stick and let’s line you up behind the cue ball.”
I do as I’m told and try to look dignified as I lean down towards the cue.
“Oh Jesus, let me help you out,” she laughs. Meer comes up behind me and arranges my hands on the stick, shows me how to line up the balls with a pocket and how to shoot, not just tap or push the cue ball.
All the close contact is getting to me and I purposely lean over and give her a peek of my cleavage as often as I can. I can see she’s interested, so I start brushing past her for purely invented reasons like brushing lint off the table; she starts putting her hands on my hips to “help” me get in position. When I finally sink my final ball, I jump up and give her a big hug. She doesn’t let go. I pull my head back and she’s looking down at me smiling. I think she is about to kiss me when I hear a big commotion up towards the front of the bar.
“Oh no! Oh no, you didn’t! Oh no, you didn’t come back here and bring one of your bitches! Are you fucking kidding me!!?” And up strides this young, sassy but pissed off woman. She looks like she just came from the salon – hair is fresh, nails are shining, make-up is flawless. She walks up to Meer and stands right under her chin and whispers, “Why? How could you come back here? And with her? Are you trying to make me crazy?” The woman glares at me, and I take two steps back and look for my coat. This is not my drama and I am so out of here. Meer turns to me and says, “Wait. I’m sorry. I’ll take you home.”
The woman spins Meer around to face her. “Sorry? You are apologizing to her? What about me? Where is my apology? Where is my money?” And with that, she pushes Meer backwards. Instinctively, I take a step towards Meer, but the woman turns her head to me and says, “You don’t want any of this, trust me.” Meer is trying to calm the woman down, backing up and around the pool table, but I can see that it’s not going to work.
“Keisha, please calm down. I’m sorry, I can explain. Let’s just take a minute here. Keisha, come on, let’s not do this baby.”
“Oh, I’m going to do this. I’ve put up with your broke ass for months and then you have the nerve to break-up with me and leave. Where is the rent you owe me? Who do you think had to pay that??” She picks up one of the pool sticks and starts hitting Meer with it. The other patrons, who were already staring, scatter while the bartender calls the police. Meer ducks and tries to run out but the woman starts grabbing the balls from the tray and throwing them at Meer. I tuck into a corner and try to sidle my way to the door. Meer turns and runs back at the woman, tackling her. I think she is trying to stop her from throwing the balls that are crashing everywhere breaking glass and narrowly missing the other customers. I hear police sirens in the distance getting closer and closer. I close my eyes. I wish I had just stayed home and read the stupid book. I wish I hadn’t gone out tonight, I wish I had just stayed home. The roar starts up in the back of my head. Yes! I welcome it. I bring it on. I think about home and the kids and getting away from this craziness and I push hard, harder. I throw myself into it, a desperate jump … silence.
∆∆∆
Darkness, my pillow, my room, I see the clock; it’s only 11:00pm. I stretch. It feels like I fell asleep a couple of hours ago. I’m tired, but I have to use the bathroom. I get up and see I’m still in my clothes from earlier in the day. As I walk to the bathroom, I remember that I have a date with Meer tomorrow. As I start to smile with anticipation, a different thought intrudes. A pool table, a woman, dinner, pulled pork, learning to shoot, the closeness of her body, the yelling, me hiding. What the … did I dream it? I must have dreamed it because I remember when she texted me, I made up a lame excuse about schoolwork when truthfully it was the kids I couldn’t leave. I made another date with her, for tomorrow. Lunch. But what about the pool table, that woman, that sandwich (that sandwich!)? And I remember changing clothes and leaving the house. I remember the look on my mother’s face as I passed her by.
I believe I did it again. I changed my mind, I changed … I jumped into another reality? Another choice? Oh my God. I did it way past the choice though, hours after … I think this has to do with something in quantum physics, the one branch of science I don’t know much about. But I do know they talk of alternate realities and multiverses but what does it mean and how am I able to jump? I’m tired but decide to write another journal entry while it is fresh. I leave the bathroom and head downstairs to find my book. I find it in the kitchen. I should probably try to be more careful with it.
Journal Entry #2
October 26
Day 8 – Tuesday I believe that today, tonight something somewhat bigger happened. I think I went out with Meer, kind of on a date. I had a sandwich and I think we played pool. A woman, her ex??? There was a fight and I tried to get away. I closed my eyes and wished I had just stayed home. I pushed and somehow ended up in my bed. Same time of day, I think, but in a totally different location. The push was a desperate attempt at escape. I didn’t plan it, I just wanted to get away from that situation. What if I dreamed it? I can ask her about the restaurant. I’ve never been there before but she seemed to be a regular. There was food, music, and Meer. All the elements from previous “Switches? Pushes? Jumps?” What am I going to call this?
Plan – check Meer’s memory of the night, ask about the restaurant, ask about an ex who might be crazy – that’s always good to know!
Read up on quantum physics!!! What the hell is it??
Chapter 9
I wake up just as everyone is leaving. I don’t get a chance to say good-bye and they don’t seem to notice my absence. I come down to an empty kitchen but at least there is coffee in the pot. I pour some and plan out my day. I’m going to meet Meer at noon at Victoria’s Kitchen, a soul food restaurant on Ogontz Avenue. I have all morning to work on my application for the scholarship. I find myself drifting back to last night but I have to brush it off. I have to get this scholarship. I have to get to MIT. All the great research comes out of MIT and Cal Tech. So, I spend the morning writing and rewriting my personal essay. I also send out my emails to my professors to get recommendation letters. I abandon the idea of asking Dr. Patel and go with my old STEM supervisor instead. Something tells me Patel will not have time to write anything in the near future. I’m nervous about work tonight. The guy with the accent was huge and I don’t think he cares at all about academics or students or scientific research. I wonder if Patel owes him money, maybe he’s a gambler or something.
I re-read my essay. I’m satisfied with it and decide to do some quick research on quantum physics. I never had an interest in it before. I’ve always been more interested in classic biology, chemistry, and Newtonian physics. Quantum physics just seemed like the fantastical ramblings of scientists looking for magic or God. I read a bit about it when the Stephen Hawkins film came out but I thought there was too much conjecture and not enough hard science for me. I like to be able to observe and measure and experiment.
After a Google search and scanning a few websites, I still don’t understand it. There’s a theory called many world theory or multiverses, but it suggests that there is an infinite number of universes existing parallel to ours with new ones being endlessly created. I don’t know if that has anything to do with me. Maybe. I think I need to talk to an expert, but how without seeming crazy? 11:45 am. Time to go.
∆∆∆
Meer is outside the restaurant when I arrive just a few minutes late. We exchange an awkward hug and walk inside. The hostess seats us and we pore over the menu for a few minutes. I am nervous and I think she is too. Maybe it’s the daylight, maybe it’s the formality of sitting down to eat together, maybe it’s because I have a vague memory of a date we had last night ... but didn’t. I order the turkey chops and collard greens platter. She orders grilled salmon with a macaroni and cheese side. I look up at her and try to sound casual.
“So, sorry about last night. I just haven’t been able to spend as much time with my brother and sister as I used to. What did you end up doing?”
She looks a little guilty as she says, “I ran into a friend at a bar. We hung out.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you have fun with your friend?” I ask raising my eyebrows.
“Not really. We used to be … something but now we’re not and she’s not taking it too well.” She takes a sip of the water the waitress just brought.
“Oh, sorry to hear it. So … I’m a
bounce back then?” I put my chin in my hand and smile at her.
“You? No! I don’t know what you are. I just know I couldn’t stop thinking about you last week and last night. I feel like we have a connection, like I know you or something. It’s weird.”
I study her face. Under all that bluster and confidence, she’s just as unsure as I am, maybe more. She looks away, uncomfortable under my gaze but I don’t let up. I memorize the shape of her eyes, the length of her lashes, the way her eyebrows hint at a curve but never quite get there. I observe the way her mouth is never still but always ready to smile, or talk or twist. I notice the flare of her nostrils, the mole near her ear, the coils of hair escaped from her baby locks. She looks back at me and into my eyes. My vision starts to blur and the roar starts in the back of my head, but I don’t want to leave. I try to shake it off but the roar becomes unbearable. I can’t hold on and I am pulled through and back, back, back …
∆∆∆
My head is aching, but I open my eyes. I’m sitting on a broken-down lounge chair not sure of what to do. I am at a party at my friend Jamal’s house. There are a few kids I know from school dancing to some underground rapper and drinking cheap vodka out of Dixie cups. I don’t know why I’m here. I was invited by Amber, a girl from school who I think is really cute. I came out to her the other day hoping that she might be interested but I don’t think she is. She brought me here then she disappeared with some boy.
I look around wondering if Amber will ever come back. Some random boy comes and sits next to me. He asks me to dance, but I say “no”. He walks to the corner of the room and comes back with a cup of “juice” for me. I drink it. It burns. He says Amber sent him, and she wants to talk to me in the other room. Confused but encouraged, I follow him down a hallway, into a small den. Amber is there, but so are two other boys. “So, we heard you are a dyke. We can cure that,” the fat one says. As I turn to run out, I see Amber’s face. She looks dangerous and wolfish. I almost make it to the door when the short one grabs my arm and pulls me back. I try to shake him off, but the fat one grabs my other arm. I hear Amber say, “Pull her down, get her!” There are hands on my jeans; I feel them yanked down over my hips. I yell out, “No!!!!!!” I kick my feet; somebody punches me in the head. I fight them, but they fight me back. Somebody grabs my arms and pulls them behind me. I keep kicking. Somebody is pulling my panties off, I look and it’s Amber. I roar, “NO!!!!! Get off of me!!!” I hear somebody else come in, and another and another. I think I am doomed, but there is more fighting, people yelling. I have been set loose. I drop to the floor and try to pull up my underwear. Somebody comes over to me, puts their arm around me, hands me my pants. I am crying. I look up. Meer. Meer with a bloody lip and a swelling eye. She shoves our way through the crowd who has stopped fighting. They jeer, they laugh, they call us names. They kick at us as we pass. But we pass. She gets me dressed. Someone helps me into a car and we drive off. I am at once aching but also numb. I stare out the window seeing nothing but my own eyes staring back at me. When we stop, Meer helps me out the car and into her house. She cleans me up with an old blue washcloth. She cleans herself up. I can’t talk. She seems to understand. We go down into her basement and sit on a lumpy, stained couch. There is a small floor lamp with only one dim bulb. I stare at the black screen of the TV. I hear her sigh and say, “It’s ok now, you are safe here.” I let go of the breath I did not know I was holding and she holds me while I cry. When I’m done, she just holds me. I find my voice to speak.