by Anne Leigh
“Is your mama Lebanese?” Constantine retorted. The giant oaf was still halfway blocking people exiting.
“No.” Jose looked up from his phone. “You know she’s Brazilian.”
“Like Gisele Bundchen? Or Alessandra Ambrosio?” Constantine’s eyes glazed over. As a hooker, he was big but very mobile on the field. He was great at hooking the ball back to win us possession. Off the field, he was SDU’s biggest hooker. Ask any girl on campus if they’ve heard of the Lebanese/French giant and they’d say, Oooohh Constantine, with dreamy looks on their faces.
Jose deflected Constantine’s questioning. “Don’t even think about it, baba.”
Ian shook his dark blonde head and said, “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends with these tools.”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
Ian was now a few inches by the entrance when he turned to Constantine, “What the hell? Why are you acting like a bouncer for our locker room?”
To which Constantine replied with, “I’m just practicing.”
“For what?” I queried, Constantine was full of air, literally and figuratively, he spouted the weirdest shit sometimes.
“I got a job as a bouncer.” He replied, his dark head looking around, and in the quietest voice he could muster, “At a local karaoke bar.”
Jose’s eyes lit up, “Really?”
Why would Jose’s eyes twinkle like that?
“Don’t even think about it,” Constantine said as if reading Jose’s mind.
What was going on?
Ian was just as confused as me, “Am I missing something here?”
Then Jose responded, with what could have been his singing voice, if that’s what you call grating cheese on a sandpaper sounded like, then yeah, “I looveee, wheee,” putting his pointer finger up, “singing…and karaoke.”
Constantine’s shoulders slumped. “Tamale, you better not be showing up at Wrigley’s on Fridays or I’ll be escorting you back out.”
Jose stood straighter and puffed his chest out. He had the best hands on our team. We called him Gummy at times because the ball got stuck to his hands like gum and he was able to field the high balls and always caught the ball cleanly to ensure we’d have possession. His voice on the other hand was another story.
“You know if you stopped teasing me with your favorite foods I would have thought about not going to your new job every Friday. However, all you do is torment me with them, so now I know where I’ll be taking my dates,” Jose said before stepping out of the room.
If Constantine was the playboy of the Humanities division, Jose was his equivalent in the History department. His mother was a Brazilian singer and his father was a soccer star. Women who liked the tall, dark look always went with Jose.
And while two of my teammates where basking in the glory of the college women, for a small second, I almost envied their carefree ability and freedom to do just that.
Growing up in the spotlight hadn’t been easy, but it was my life.
My mother’s way of life. My sister’s prison. My father’s downfall.
And even if New York was thousands of miles away, it didn’t mean that I was immune to the shackles attached to it.
As we walked down the Athletics Hall, Cons and Jose walking behind us, still arguing, Ian asked again, “Why can’t you go with us?”
“I have a frat meeting,” I answered, feeling the burden of responsibility leaving me. “We’re planning something big and Rikko called it last minute.”
He nodded and said, “Do you ever let loose?”
I knew what he meant. In all the years we’d been teammates, he’d seen me drink but never more than two bottles of beer. He’d seen lots of women give me their phone numbers, but I’d never brought a girl to a game. He’d seen me angry and frustrated, but never have I thrown stuff around.
So yeah, I knew what he was asking.
“Yeah I have,” I answered, adjusting the weight of my bag on my shoulders.
“When?”
“There.” We were now outside of the building but I could still spot the greenery west of us so I stopped midstride, gestured with my head, and said, “Out there in the field. I let loose. Every single time.”
“This is our last year so we have to celebrate it.” Rikko’s blue eyes hovered around the room. He was sitting on one of the large cushions, the 65-inch screen TV behind him. Chi Epsilon Tau’s living room was our official conference room.
It was close to six o’ clock in the evening and everyone looked like they were ready to fall flat on the sofa, face down.
Such was the club filled with athletes and over-achievers.
It was also one of the reasons why I joined this frat in my freshman year. I’d heard good things about it and they kept their noses clean and that’s what mattered to me.
Sure, we had parties overflowing with alcohol and women, but we had frat brothers that ensured that nothing crossed over the legalities. I’d heard enough of hazing, injuries and deaths inside fraternities that I knew it wasn’t something I’d miss if I didn’t become a part of it.
But Tau was different.
Our Chapter President was a guy who was loud and boisterous, but had never taken a woman without her consent.
Deans all across the country used our name to elaborate about the good behaviors that college athletes belonging in fraternities had.
Scott, Rikko’s best friend and our treasurer, said, “How much damage are we talking?”
Rikko stood up and grabbed a piece of paper from his back pocket and said, “I was calculating it earlier while you were throwing like a little kid and estimated it to be about eighty-two hundred.”
Scott, SDU’s esteemed quarterback, raised his brows, “We’re going to spend that much on strippers?”
The other five guys in the room laughed and high fived each other.
“Ha. Strippers. I wish.” Rikko joked, “I don’t think Dean Freidan would sponsor our events anymore if he got wind that we’re hiring girls from Lulu.”
Lulu was a high-priced gentlemen’s club close to campus. It wasn’t really that close, but you’d drive through it to get to the North side of SDU. The glimmering electronic lights “Only the best for men like you” was made to be seductive, but to me, it was pretty hilarious.
I sure as hell wouldn’t find the best inside that strip club. Cons and Ian had talked about it and they said the girls were “eh” meaning “not even close to the best.”
“What do you think, brother?” Rikko’s eyes were on me. We’d completed pledging at the same time and we’d always had a good friendship going on. He did his thing and I did mine, but when it came to the fraternity, he always sought my advice.
“What’s the goal of the party?” I asked. “I know we have it for a various number of reasons, but for us to be spending this money, I need to know what you’re really aiming for.”
Takei, SDU’s wide receiver and Heisman contender, said, “Can we not say it’s for the women? I just wanna get laid.”
I shook my head and chuckled along with everyone else.
We all knew that he had a constant stream of women going in and out of his bedroom. When you lived with the guys, you knew who was getting laid and who wasn’t. Takei was definitely in the laid category.
Scott rebutted, “Herpes can grow on mattresses, you know. I swear I saw the virus crawling up your sheets the other night.”
Takei, who chose to let his Japanese ancestry show up whenever he was cussing, gave Scott a small bow with his head and said, “Arigato baka.” He’d said it enough times for everyone to know he was giving his QB a ‘thank you, stupid.’
“Back to Bishop’s question – “ Rikko boomed, trying to get us to focus. “I figured we’d have alcohol and hire a great DJ and call it a Welcome Party to our recruits and Beginning of the End of the Year for us oldies.”
Eighty-two hundred wasn’t going to put a dent in our frat budget. We were one of the well-funded ones. Rikko’s parents had donated hundreds
of thousands to Tau and so did most of our parents. We all knew he wasn’t asking for much, but it was the principle of asking which was why we were all here.
“Okay…” I nodded. When it came to making decisions, two of the high-ranking officers needed to agree in order for a vote or a request to pass.
I almost always agreed with him, except for a few times when he requested absurd things. Things like an inflatable pool on the rooftop or painting the walls red and green for Halloween, just to be different from the usual orange and black colors.
“Plus, I want to show my sister that we’re not all that bad.” Rikko smiled as he said it. He’d talked about his sister so many times to me. He’d shown me a few pictures of her which were taken a decade ago because I doubted she wore her hair in pigtails anymore. But like me, I knew that he loved her. Which was another reason why he was cool with me.
“Kara already thinks you’re awful,” Scott said with a familiarity. Sometimes I forgot that they grew up together.
Imagine the joy in the recruiters’ faces when two of high school football’s best players signed up with SDU.
Also, think of who might have been fired at Alabama or Oklahoma State’s recruiting teams when two of the top-ranking D1 teams failed to sign them?
Scott was a private guy, like me, while Rikko let it all out.
Rikko often said that they signed with SDU because it sucked and they wanted to make it better. Scott would only shrug at that and didn’t add to Rikko’s explanation.
“So…now that’s settled,” Takei interrupted, and looked around. Nodding his head at Trev, Silas, Quan, and Larry, all Tau officers, he faced Rikko and mouthed off, “Is your sister hot?”
I chuckled and shook my head to the side, sure that Takei was going to get it from Rikko who could be quite intimidating when angry.
“She’s off limits.” It wasn’t Rikko who answered.
The lined threat came from the quarterback to my right, Scott repeated, “She’s not on the table. Ever.”
I saw the nervousness in Takei’s eyes, and as he slowly recovered, he said, “Got it, bro.”
“Good,” was Scott’s reply as we stood up to scramble and go about our evening.
I’d never heard Scott speak like that to anyone.
As private as Scott was, he was also mild-mannered and didn’t have an air of antagonism about him. Sure he was one of NFL’s top prospects, but he’d always managed to keep his head down, so for him to say something about Rikko’s sister that even Rikko didn’t have to say anything –
Whoever Kara was, she was obviously important to Scott.
Kara
After days of ignoring my brother’s calls, I decided that the next time he texted or called, I’d pick up. He was blowing up my phone and well, he was also bothering my roommate.
Anissa’s light hazel eyes winked, “Your brother’s cute.”
“Ugh.” I slumped my shoulders on the love seat and stretched my legs, kicking off the sandals I’d been wearing for most of the day. “He stopped by?”
“Yes.” Her pearly white teeth showed along with the dimples on her cheeks, “He talked to me for a few minutes and he apologized because he had to hurry to practice, but he also brought an ice cream cake.”
Rikko knew my weakness was ice cream and cake. Whoever concocted the ice cream cake was the devil. I could gorge on it for hours even to the point of a stomach ache.
“What kind?” I asked, still laying on the couch as if my life depended on it.
“You want me to look?” She said rather enthusiastically. We’d only met less than a week ago, but I already knew that she was my soul sister. I couldn’t wait to chat to Hanna about her. Hanna had been so busy helping plan her sister’s wedding and staying in college that we hadn’t had the time to talk these past couple of days.
“Since you’re already standing and I won’t be able to stand for another day or two, please, do me the honors.” I spread my hands in the air, giving permission.
Anissa laughed and trekked to the kitchen a few steps away.
I could see her opening the freezer and her bright purple hijab glowed against the sun streaming from outside to our kitchen.
“Oohhh, it says green tea and passion fruit on the label.” Her voice was excited. Clearly, she liked one or both of the flavors.
“I love green tea,” I sighed. “But I still hate my brother.”
“Friend, you’re going to have to forgive him soon,” Anissa said, while she balanced the cake and plastic forks and small paper plates with both of her hands. “Or you’re going to gain the junior fifteen with all the treats he’s bringing over.”
“Is there such a thing as junior fifteen? I thought it was only freshman fifteen?” I raised my brows, challenging her statement.
“Hmm…” She said as she took a bite of the ice cream cake from her plate. “There’s sophomore fifteen, junior fifteen. Basically, you can gain fifteen pounds any time you’re in college.”
“How would you know?” I said as I took a bite of the cake. Heavenly. Ugh. Now I really had to forgive Rikko. “You don’t look like you gained any weight from these treats.”
“Girl, why do you think I cover up my body like this?” Pointing to her colorful robe as her hazel eyes were filled with humor. “It’s because I don’t want to have anyone check me out with all the flab I’ve accumulated here in San Diego.”
I almost choked on my laughter. She was funny. Really funny.
The first time I met her, I was caught by surprise.
Not because she was wearing hijab or because she was Muslim.
I was surprised with the words that came out of her mouth.
She’d made an offhanded comment about how Nutella was the creation of Satan’s spawns to rule the world and from there, she’d gained my trust.
And I knew from that day that I’d treasure her friendship and protect it from my mother’s claws.
I grew up in the greeneries of Southlake, Texas surrounded by English Tudors and Mediterranean-styled homes where my friends looked the same as me – blonde, eyes that reflected our heritage, and skin that burned at the slightest hint of sun.
In third grade, I met this girl with curly hair, light brown eyes and whose skin didn’t even blush at the height of the afternoon sun. My friends Dana and Ash called her weird, but all I saw was her kindness and forgiving nature when she didn’t rat Dana out to Ms. Phillips after Dana had pulled her hair. Later that afternoon, I gave Dana and Ash their friendship bracelets back and I introduced myself to the new girl who was waiting on the school steps for her parents to pick her up.
From that day on, she became my best friend.
From that day on, I’d defended my friendship with her to my mother, the woman who was crowned Miss Louisiana when she was in her early 20s.
I’m not deluded.
Delusions were easy to get rid of once you’d broken away from the mold.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw blue eyes, blonde hair, a svelte figure and an ample chest courtesy of my genes.
I’d heard my mother’s disappointment of having me as her daughter throughout my teenage years because I didn’t abide by her wishes.
Why can’t my daughter be like your daughter, Brooke?
Why can’t she go study ballet?
Why can’t she compete for Miss Teen Texas?
Why is my daughter engrossed with Science rather than enjoy her time with young men her age?
Why does she always want to hang out with her brother instead of me?
Why doesn’t her father let me cut off her college funds? She doesn’t have to go to college, she could marry Marks’ son and she’d be set for life.
It’s her grandmother’s fault, that old biddy, for putting all these wild thoughts of racial inequality and social justice in her mind.
My dad had let me roam the streets in rompers and jeans when my mother was away with her friends on a cruise to Alaska.
My brother had let me ride bikes and
explore the mountains when Mom was at high society functions in Connecticut.
I was blessed with what I had. I loved my mother, but I didn’t have to agree with her. In my dad’s eyes, she’d always be the Southern Belle who moved to Texas for him, and he’d give her everything she wanted which was why he’d often negotiate with me so it would look as if Mom got her way.
When I turned eighteen, she held a debutante ball for me.
As her only daughter, I capitulated but only because Dad promised me I could go to any college I wanted.
So I learned the Texas Dip in record time and even managed to be cordial to her friends.
Mom has somewhat accepted my friendship with Hanna, maybe it had to a lot with Hanna hanging out around the house a lot or maybe it had to do with Hanna’s dad coaching the number one offense in the NFL, but I could care less.
I watched Anissa as she took another bite of the delicious cold dessert and I knew that my mother wouldn’t accept her.
My eyes may be as blue as my mother’s, but my heart wasn’t as closed off as hers.
My mom would view Anissa as a woman who wasted America’s resources since she didn’t hold any regard for the country simply because she believed in Islam.
But all I saw was a college girl, like me, laughing, smiling, enjoying a simple dessert, and trying to make the world a better place by not judging me by my looks either.
“You’re right, Anissa,” I said, still grinning at the ridiculous faces she was making. “I need to forgive my brother.”
A big smile appeared on her lips and it brightened her face, exaggerating her beautiful features. I knew that she wanted me to be at peace with my brother, a guy she’d only met a few days ago.
Like me, she only wanted peace and harmony.
Why couldn’t people see how alike we are instead of spotlighting the differences between us?
I wish I knew the answer to this age-old question.
Because maybe if I did, I would also know why my brain kept going back to the guy in my Quantum Mechanics class.
Anissa let out a yelp, “Is that a cockroach? Or a spider?”