Ezekiel's Passion

by Bailey West

  She wrote some information on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

  “Go to your school and ask to speak with Mary in the residential life office. She will help you from there. Good Luck, Zora.”

  “Thank you,” I responded. I took the paper from her and smiled as I left her office.

  I found my way to my school, but not before getting on the subway going in the wrong direction. Then once I got on going the right direction, I missed my stop and had to walk back down the street to the school. I was frustrated, but failure was not an option. I had to learn this city.

  I walked into the housing office and asked for Mary. I was escorted to her office.

  “You must be Zora?”

  “Yes, I’m Zora Chambers.”

  “Have a seat and let’s see if we can’t get this all figured out for you.”

  I sat and watched as Mary typed away at her computer and made a couple of phone calls.

  “There are some summer jobs available that I can set you up with.” She jotted something on a post-it pad. “In the meantime, take these numbers and contact some people that can help you with the other things.”

  I took the paper from her.

  “Can you do this on your own? I can go with you if you need me to.”

  “No, I will be okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, but thank you.”

  I left her office feeling hopeful for the very first time in my short life. I knew that if I could just survive these couple of summer months that Zanetta would be here and I wouldn’t be alone.

  I contacted the people that Mary told me to. They were also very helpful. Mary found me a job on campus working with the housing office. I stayed in one of the dorms. When the semester started, my goal was to be at the top of the class. I had something to prove to myself and to my family. Failure was not an option. I had to succeed or die trying.

  Zora

  I had been in New York for two years. My parents never did come looking for me. I thought that maybe one of my brothers would try to reach out to me, but they haven't either. Zanetta told me that my parents came to her house looking for me right after I left, but that was the extent of their search.

  After having time to think about the choice I made to leave home, I realized that maybe I could have handled it differently. Maybe I could have at least told them that I planned on leaving instead of disappearing into the night. After my first year of school, I sent a letter home.

  Hi Family,

  I am in New York attending Columbia University. I am maintaining all A’s while taking 18 credit hours. I am hoping to finish undergrad at least a semester early. I’m sorry that I left the way that I did. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. Please forgive me. It would mean a lot if we could talk about it.

  I love you all.

  Zora

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but I did receive a letter back in my mother’s handwriting. The letter said:

  Zora,

  I hope you did not contact us thinking that we owe you something or that you would get anything from us. You thought you were grown by leaving the house and moving to New York? Well, how about you stay grown! Do not contact us again.

  She didn’t even sign her name. I could feel the hate through that letter. After reading it, I felt so alone. I had Nette but the reality set in that I would never have a relationship with my family again. I learned to push that whole experience to the very back of my mind and keep going. I promised myself that I would succeed and I plan on it.

  “’Scuse me, miss?” I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned around ready to curse someone out. I was greeted with an enormous toothy grin from a handsome guy.

  I looked him up and down with the meanest face I could muster.

  “I am trying to find the number one subway?”

  Someone was always stopping me and asking for directions. When I first arrived here, I’m sure I sent some people on wild goose chases with my directions, but now I know the subway system like the back of my hand.

  “You have to walk across campus to the other gate. The subway entrance is right there.”

  He looked in the direction I pointed then turned back to me and said, “Thank you gorgeous.”

  “Gorgeous is a big word. Is that one of the new words you learned in your ESL class?”

  “I tried to give you a compliment, and your response is that I’m some foreigner taking English as a second language class? Wow.” His olive colored skin, dark hair and thick accent said that he was from somewhere else.

  He put his hand on his chest covering his heart feigning offense. I gave him a fake smile and walked away. He was cute, but I only dealt with chocolate. Dark, milk, or even white, as long as it’s chocolate. New York had an array of chocolate, all for the sampling. I was taught to abstain from sex until I was married. I always hated when they would talk to the females about saving yourself for marriage, but they never had those talks with the men. I don’t think it’s a good idea to wait. I mean what if the sex is whack and you’ve already married him. Then what? You’re just stuck with terrible sex for the rest of your life? No ma’am, no sir! That’s not going to be me! It’s like getting one of those Valentine’s day boxes of assorted chocolates. I would squeeze each piece to determine what type of chocolate it was. Only after sampling each piece did I decide which one I would eat. That’s how I feel about sex. Sample, sample, sample.

  I made the conscious choice to be sensual and sexual. If I wanted to have sex, then I was going to do it. No attachments, no relationships just really good sex. I always hated the double standard that was imposed on women. If a woman sleeps around with multiple men, then she is a whore, but when men do the exact same thing, it’s normal. It’s even celebrated. I decided not to care what people thought about me or my sex life.

  Over the next couple of weeks, I kept running into the same guy that asked for directions.

  “Are you following me?” I finally challenged one day.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I was hoping that you would tell me your name, Gorgeous.”

  “I didn’t offend you enough the last time you called me Gorgeous?”

  “I don’t offend easily, Gorgeous.”

  “Well, I offend easily, so stop calling me that.”

  I think it’s so disrespectful for men to call women pet names without their permission. Don’t call me sugar, darling or any of those fake ass, annoying ass pet names.

  “I don’t give random strangers my name. Especially ones that can’t take the hint when they are being brushed off.”

  He smiled.

  “My name is Bahir. Now I’m not a stranger.”

  He was very persistent. I will give him that. The longer I looked at him I realized how cute he really was. He wore his hair in a low cut. His eyebrows were so thick that they were the most prominent thing on his face. He had soft brown animated eyes. His lips were thin but full enough to see them. He didn’t have that no top lip syndrome that I hate. His looks were not going to stop me from giving him a hard time though.

  “You could have made that name up,” I challenged.

  “If I wanted to make up a name, I would have said something way cooler like Michael Jackson or James Bond.”

  “Oh yeah, those are way cooler,” I sarcastically responded.

  “Let me buy you a cup of coffee, please?”

  I thought about it for a minute before I relented and led him to the coffee shop around the corner.

  We sat at a table near the window. He told me that he was originally from Lebanon but came to the states from France. He said that he was attending Columbia also. I drank my free coffee and let him tell me all about himself.

  “So tell me something about you.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Bahir. I don’t know you from Santa Claus. Your story was very interesting, though.”

  “You have the most beautiful eyes.”

  “Thank you. I have to go now, so I won’
t be late to class. I will see you around.”

  I stood to leave.

  “Okay Gorgeous. I will see you later.”

  “You’re gonna keep calling me that even though I told you that I don’t like it?”

  “You won’t tell me your name, so I have to call you something.”

  “Don’t you usually like your women all covered up and stuff? It's too hot to be walking around here with only my eyes showing.”

  I was being ignorant on purpose, but he wasn’t deterred.

  “I like for my women to look just like you, Gorgeous.”

  He was getting on my nerves but was charming at the same time.

  “Zora…my name is Zora.”

  “See you later, Zora.”

  Over the course of the next few weeks, I would see him on campus. Every time I saw him, he would ask me out. My standard reply was no.

  “How many times do you need to hear no before you finally stop asking?” I was tired of having the same conversation with him.

  “I’m a patient man. I want to get to know you, Zora.”

  “Fine, you know what? Let’s go out. When do you want to go?”

  He smiled brightly as he said, “What about Friday?”

  “Friday is fine.”

  “Can I pick you up at your house?”

  “Hell naw! You don’t need to know where I live. We can meet somewhere.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t know you so, no I don’t trust you. Where do you want to meet?”

  He chuckled.

  “We can meet at the pizzeria on Carmine and Seventh. It’s the West Houston stop on the one subway.”

  “Okay, I will find it.”

  We met after class on the following Friday and went to Spunto Pizzeria. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had a good time with him. He got me to talk about myself by asking me questions that no one had ever asked before.

  “If you could hop on a plane right now, money was not a concern, where would you go?”

  I had gotten used to men saying just enough to get me in the bed, which the joke is on them because that was my goal as well.

  “Hawaii, or anywhere warm. I love the ocean and the beach.”

  “Are you more of a TV person or do you like movies?”

  “I’m a movie person. What about you?”

  “I like movies too. What is your favorite movie?”

  “Napolean Dynamite.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

  “It’s a cult classic! I remember the first time I saw it, I laughed so hard. I still laugh every time I watch it.”

  “I will have to watch it so we have something to talk about on our next date. That is, if you are willing to come out again with me.”

  “I might say yes, if you ask nicely.”

  He asked again, and I said yes.

  Bahir and I started spending a lot of time together. I wasn’t trying to be in a committed relationship, but he changed my mind. Sex with him was cool. It wasn’t earth shattering, but he made up for it by treating me like a Queen. I didn’t have to worry about anything when he was around. He paid for all of our dates. He opened doors and pulled out chairs. He was the perfect gentleman.

  He and his family had a strained relationship just like mine, but he did have some cousins out of state that he would visit once a month. We talked about me meeting them but my class schedule was tight, and I didn’t have a lot of time for travel. I appreciated the way Bahir didn’t smother me. He let me be me. We could go days without seeing each other and be perfectly fine. That’s what really endeared me to him.

  I found out I was pregnant with our son right before I graduated from undergrad. Bahir and I used condoms, but one broke. I figured that I would be fine. I wasn’t worried until Aunt Flow decided not to visit. Then I panicked. Leave it up to me to get pregnant the first time a condom breaks. I was terrified. I didn’t know if I could be a good mother because my mother was such a terrible example. What if I ignored my kid the same way my mother ignored me? What if I didn’t have it in me to be a mother? What if my kid was anti-me the same way I am with my mother? I was so scared.

  I told Bahir about the pregnancy. He looked like he was going to be sick.

  “You want to keep it? I will support whatever decision you make,” he finally spoke after sitting for several minutes.

  “Believe me, my first thought was to get rid of it, but I know that I can’t do that so, yes, I want to keep it. I mean, I’m scared as hell. I didn’t think this would happen…but yes, I want to keep it.” I repeated myself a couple of times to convince myself. I know keeping it is the right thing to do.

  I gave birth with Bahir on one side of my bed and Zanetta on the other side. As soon as the nurse put my baby on my chest, I fell in love. All of my fear about not being able to love him dissipated as soon as I held him. I knew at that moment that I would be my best for him. He would never feel the rejection that I felt from my parents. I am going to love this kid with my whole heart. If I can’t give him anything else, he’s going to feel my love. I named him Braeden James Chambers. We call him BJ. He reminds me so much of my father and brothers. He has my dad’s eyes and big ears like my oldest brother Countee. I wish I could introduce him to them. He favors Bahir a little, but I think he looks like me.

  Bahir and I worked out a schedule so I could continue with grad school. He would take care of BJ on Tuesdays and Thursdays while I attended evening classes. My classes started at six, so he would usually arrive by 4:30 if he hadn’t spent the night. His sleepovers started to happen less and less. I wasn’t really tripping off it because I was so busy with being a mom and a grad student. I needed the space. I appreciated the space.

  One night when BJ was six months old, I was packing my bag getting ready to leave for class. I noticed that it was getting late and Bahir hadn’t arrived yet. I called his phone. He didn’t pick up. Maybe he was underground on the subway. I waited and waited…nothing. I started to worry, so I packed BJ up in his stroller and made the trip to Bahir’s apartment. I knocked on the door to his apartment several times, and no one answered. I tried turning the door knob, it was unlocked. I walked in, and the sight in front of me took my breath away. I became lightheaded which prompted me to tighten my grip on BJ’s stroller. I thought I was going to pass out. The entire apartment was empty. Unoccupied. Vacant. Without a speck a dust. I had just spoken to Bahir two days ago. He told me he would be busy studying, but would be over to watch BJ. I stood in the middle of the deserted apartment replaying our last conversation over and over in my head.

  “Can I help you, Miss?”

  I jumped at the voice coming from behind me. I didn’t realize I’d left the front door open. I looked at the elderly man standing in the doorway.

  “Ummm…how long has this apartment been empty?”

  “At least a week. Was the door left open?”

  “Yea…ummm…yes, it was. I thought someone I know lived here.”

  “Noone has lived here in about a week. This apartment is for rent.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  I quickly turned on my heels and walked out as fast as I could while pushing BJ in his stroller.

  I walked back to the subway deep in thought. “Why didn’t Bahir tell me that he was moving out of his apartment? Where is he living now? Why hasn’t he called me?”

  The questions continued as a man helped me carry the stroller down the steps to the subway platform. “Did he tell me he was moving? Maybe he did, and I don’t remember. I have been swamped with school. No, I would remember something that important.”

  I arrived back at my apartment. I fed BJ and put him down in his crib. I sat on the edge of my bed waiting for my phone to ring. Praying that my phone would ring. It didn’t. When I didn’t hear from him by that following Monday morning, I went to the police precinct. I wanted to file a missing person report, but they informed me that I could not. They said that since he is an adult and
there were no signs of foul play, there was nothing they could do.

  That’s when I finally lost it. The dam broke, and the ugly cry commenced. One of the females that worked at the front desk of the precinct handed me a box of tissues and let me cry on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay honey, men are jerks. At least he left before he could ruin your life. I say good riddance!”

  I didn’t respond…

  I didn’t respond because I didn’t agree. I needed Bahir’s help with BJ. How was I supposed to finish school without his help? How was I supposed to raise a child in New York City by myself?

  I got myself together and left the precinct. As soon as I got back into my apartment, I called Zanetta.

  “He left me!” I yelled as soon as she answered the phone.

  “Who, what are you talking about, Sissy. Calm down, please.”

  I ran down the sequence of events to her. I had to repeat myself a lot because I was crying so hard she couldn’t understand me.

  “I’m checking flights now, Sissy. I’m on my way.”

  “Okay,” I continued to cry. I felt so alone. Having Bahir here made me feel like I had a family. After Nette left, he became my only support.

  “I can be there tomorrow evening. I will fly into LaGuardia and get a cab…”

  I flashed back to my first days in New York. I remembered how afraid I was. I also remembered the promise I made to myself; ‘I am going to make it or die trying.’

  “No, wait.” I interrupted her. “Don’t come.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t come here. I know that I am a mess right now, but I need to get through this on my own. I have to keep the promise I made to myself. I will call you if I need to talk but don’t uproot yourself because of me.”

  “Uproot myself? Zora, what are you talking about? You’re my sister. I will always be there when you need me.”

  “Nette, I need to do this on my own, please. Don’t come here.”

  “Who’s going to watch BJ while you’re in class?”