A Love Like This (Book 1)

by Lane, Kimberly

  “You should come down to the rally tomorrow night,” he says. The man smells like incents and pot.

  “Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I say glancing at the flyer before shoving it in my bag. I start to walk away but stop short spin around and take a closer look at the group. I blink rapidly not sure of what I’m seeing. I had read about students protesting social repression by coming to school naked. I thought it was a myth but there they are right in front of me totally naked. Well not completely. Some of the protestors are wearing shoes and a few have on backpacks and hats. I avert my eyes and rush towards the west entrance of the school. How could I not have noticed boobs and balls right in front of me? I set off towards the cafeteria looking around wondering what else I’d missed while my head was down. I buy an apple and oatmeal to go and find a place to sit on a grassy hill near a giant bear statue. I take out my new journal and watch the student’s speeding by in every direction. I write, ‘It’s my first day of class at UC Berkeley. I’m pretty sure my roommate’s certifiable. People come to school naked and I’ve spent my entire first class lusting over the student teacher. Everyone walks around this place looking as if they have it all figured out. It’s my first day and I’m already filled with uncertainty.’

  Chapter 3

  I see Tucker everywhere and he’s always accompanied by a gaggle of giggling girls. It’s unbelievable how silly some woman can act. Of course I’m no better. He smiles at me and I get all flustered. Right now I’m standing in the doorway of the library watching the rain come down in buckets. I’m about to make a run for it and brave the rapids when I hear a deep sexy voice boom from behind me. “Waiting for a boat,” he says. I turn and there he is again flashing those dimples at me.

  “No I’m waiting for a chivalrous man to sweep me off my feet and carry me to my room,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

  Tucker steps closer to me. I open my mouth and rack my brain for something clever to say. He bends down and scoops me into his arms then steps out into the rain quickly walking towards the dorms. I really should protest but my face is just inches away from his and all I want to do is rest my head on his shoulder and pledge my undying love.

  “Are you ok? He asks looking over at me. You look as if you might be having a stroke.”

  “I’m rarely at a loss for words,” I say, “but you caught me off guard.”

  “Was that chivalrous enough for you?” Tucker says as he gently lowers me to my feet under an awning. He inhales deeply before removing his arm from my waist.

  “Did you just sniff me?” I ask with phony indignation. His face reddens slightly which makes me feel more comfortable for some reason. “So do I tip you?” I ask.

  He rakes his fingers through his damp curls, raises an eyebrow and gives me a sheepish grin. Tucker reaches for my hand and a ball of fire forms around my belly button and gets lower as he pulls me closer. “Yeah you can tip me but I don’t want money.” He opens my hand and brushes a finger across my palm.

  I swallow hard and ask, “Then what do you want?” He pulls me a little closer and my heart races. We are standing toe to toe and Tucker is gazing into my eyes like a scene from a soap opera. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say another word he’s interrupted by one of the groupies.

  “Oh Doctor Bradley,” her shrill voice cry’s out like nails on a chalkboard, “you’re so gallant.” Of course she’s a tall gorgeous blond who I now officially hate. She walks right between us as if I’m invisible. I pull my hand away from his and ball my fists but I’m pretty sure the university would frown on me beating a giant debutant. So I turn to walk away seething with anger.

  “Leila wait,” he says reaching for my arm.

  I pull away, “I’ll see you around Doctor Bradley,” I say with a hint of sarcasm which I hope hides my disappointment.

  Back in the dorm room I change out of my wet clothes and take out my journal. I write, ‘No more lusting after Tucker. There are too many other women to contend with; besides I need to keep my eyes on the prize.’ I close the book resolute and start studying with new found determination. When my eyes start to cross from reading for so long I close my book and call Keisha. She tells me that her oldest son little DJ made the honor role despite the fact that he curses like a Def Comedy Jam comedian and is constantly fighting. She also tells me a bunch of funny stories about the crazy things her kids have done since I’ve been gone. She asks what I’ve been up to and I tell her about my classes and assignments. I don’t bother mentioning Tucker. I know the first thing she’ll say is, “aren’t there any brothah’s in Berkeley?” Even though I’ve never dated outside my race I don’t have any qualms about it. Everyone should find love where they can. We talk for hours and by the time I finally get to bed I’ve forgotten all about Tucker and the debutant.

  However, my anger resurfaces the next morning. I’m sitting up in bed wishing I had taken a swing at the blond. I climb out of bed and step into my slippers thinking of everything I should have said to the girl. But the anger dissipates and fades to a distant memory when I see a package that Sarah must have left on my desk in the middle of the night. It’s from my uncle and it’s filled with clothes that I believe he meant to send to a high priced call girl. A black form fitting dress with an asymmetric hemline, a backless white dress and pants that I assume would hang so low on my hips that my butt crack would show with each step I take. I guess he thinks I’ll get A’s in my classes if I flash the professors a peek at my lady lumps. I like playing dress up in all the clothes that my uncle Pookie sends but I’m starting to see the value in just being comfortable.

  I pick up my drafting supplies and leave the room in sweats and a hooded sweat shirt. I sit on a bench in front of the dorms and take out my sketch pad, chalk and colored pencils to sketch the landscape. It’s foggy and virtually desolate outside. I’m sitting close enough to the buildings to see every detail but passersby look like walking shadows. I draw a replica of the cluster of dorms then add a living roof filled with perennials, purple love grass and butterfly milkweeds. It’s moments like this that remind me why I chose architecture as a major. I feel so peaceful sitting here drawing. I use gray chalk to create shadows and fog around the buildings.

  “That’s hauntingly beautiful,” I hear a woman’s voice behind me say. I turn to face her. “Is that purple love grass?” She is an older woman with long dark hair streaked with gray and eye’s the color of the ocean at night.

  “I honestly didn’t think anyone else would pick up on that. Don’t you just love the name, purple love grass,” I say?

  The woman walks around the bench and sits next to me. She takes a closer look at the drawing. “The only thing missing from your design is black eyed Suzan’s.”

  Black eye Suzan’s are daisy-like flowers with a huge brown center that look like giant black eyes. “I was thinking about adding them but I ran out of space. A green roof could be very efficient. It could help the university save energy by insulating against heat and cold.”

  The woman nods thoughtfully, “Are you an agricultural major?”

  “No architecture.” I’m Leila by the way I say offering my chalk covered hand. “How do you know so much about plants?” I ask.

  “It’s just a hobby of mine. My son and I do a lot of landscaping around the house. You have really good ideas.”

  “Thanks, I love architecture more for the artistic aspects rather than the practical.”

  “I run a small non-profit in Marin. If you ever want to come out and do some community service we could really use your help.”

  She hands me a business card. There’s something calming about her demeanor. She reminds me of my mom. The card says Joan Noland ‘Room for Growth Disabled Services’. “I’ve never really given much thought to volunteering but I’d love to help out.”

  “It’s a program for disabled adults. We help them learn independent living skills. We teach them thi
ngs like money management, how to use public transportation and other skills that most of us take for granted. You can come and teach some of the residents about saving energy and different species of plants. You can also just come and hang out because interaction helps them develop social skills.” The woman stands to go. “I should head out I’m supposed to meet my son for breakfast. Give me a call and we’ll set something up if you’re interested.”

  “Thank you I’ll do that. Nice to meet you,” I say.

  She smiles warmly and pats my shoulder before walking away.

  _____

  Tucker and his best friend Mike are sitting side by side at a juice bar on the Berkeley campus after completing a five mile run. They met in the seventh grade at Longfellow Junior High School. Mike was dating a girl named Samantha Ceballos. She was the daughter of a famous guitar player and the prettiest girl in school. Mike was a gangling pimple faced boy with thick glasses and a dry Jerry curl. He pursued Samantha tenaciously buying her candy and stuffed animals even giving her money on occasion. He showed up at her house nearly every day to carry her books to school. She finally relented and agreed to go out with him and he was thrilled. She said, “You can be my boyfriend if you promise to carry my books to every class.” She crossed her arms over her budding chest and added, “But you’ll have to walk behind me when I’m with my friends and we can’t hold hands in public.” Mike happily agreed to all of her terms he didn’t care if no knew she was his girl as long as he knew. They were going out for nearly a week and Mike was euphoric.

  He would have happily gone on being her lap dog forever if it wasn’t for Tucker walking into Mrs. Armstead’s homeroom one sunny day in May. Tucker with his sapphire blue eyes and his shiny braces made all the girls swoon. Samantha stuck a note in Mike’s locker that very day informing him that her father said she was too young to date. The same day she had her friend put a note in Tucker’s locker. The note said, “Do you like Samantha,” with the words, “yes or no,” printed in bold letters at the bottom of the page. Tucker and Samantha were an item by lunch and Mike was destroyed. He confronted Tucker after school and a crowd quickly gathered chanting, “fight, fight, fight.” They pushed Mike into Tucker and both boys ended up in detention for fighting. Samantha sent Tucker a note while he was in detention informing him that she could never date someone so barbaric. Tucker and Mike have been friends and rivals ever since.

  “So what do you think of what’s her face?” Mike asks snapping his finger.

  “Who the waitress from the bar the other night,” Tucker says.

  “No not her you know what’s her nose with the ass and the cute face,” Mike says with a playful smile.

  “It’s Leila dude.”

  “Yeah that’s right Leila. She’s like a sexy librarian,” Mike says chuckling. “I’m thinking about asking her out. She might be the one man,” He says nudging Tucker’s arm with his elbow.

  “No you’re going to have to step down this time. I’ve had my eye on her since the semester began. You only want to ask her out because you know I like her.”

  “Sorry bro you missed your opportunity. Little Momma is going to be riding big Mike by the end of the week.”

  “First of all stop referring to yourself as big Mike, it’s just weird and secondly Sarah told me that Leila’s interested in me. I’m just waiting for the right time to ask her out,” Tucker says sipping his drink.

  “That’s just a formality,” Mike says. “Anyway aren’t you still dating ol’ girl with the softball boobs?”

  “No Amy and I broke up. I’m going to ask Sarah to invite Leila the next time we all go out,” Tucker says.

  “Yeah that’s a good idea. She might just be wifie man,” Mike says.

  “You’ve only seen her twice and you’ve never talked to her.”

  “Again just a formality, I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that I can get her to fall in love with me by the end of the semester,” Mike says.

  “Nope I’m not playing that game with you again,” Tucker says annoyed.

  “You clearly have the advantage. You see her every week in class and you’re friends with her roommate. What do you have to lose?” Mike says.

  “I can’t ask her out while student teaching her class. That would be unethical.”

  “Ok, we’ll wait until the semester ends.”

  “No, I’m asking her out, you stay away,” Tucker says.

  “You’re just afraid I’ll win,” Mike says haughtily.

  “No I’m not afraid you’ll win,” Tucker says. “Making stupid bets with you is how I ended up with Amy.”

  Mike looks over and sees the vein on Tucker’s neck pulsating. “Amy was your fault. You were too much of a nice guy to tell her you weren’t interested,” Mike says.

  “Whatever I’ll bet you,” Tucker says sliding off the barstool. “You don’t have a chance this time.”

  “We’ll see,” Mike says holding the door for a girl and watching her butt as she walks past.

  “Come on we have to go meet my mom for breakfast,” Tucker says.

  Chapter 4

  I’m lying flat on my back with a textbook resting on my chest staring at the stucco ceiling in a catatonic state. I just read Donald Appleyard’s, "Towards an Urban Design Manifesto,” then completed a ten page essay on urban design and how a city should be laid out. My hectic schedule is taking its toll and I’m completely exhausted. I’m wondering if anyone would notice if I just called it quits and went home. I hear Sarah’s key in the door.

  “Hey roomy,” She sings out in her latest vernacular. Sarah changes boyfriends nearly as often as she changes underwear. This week’s guy is from Texas and has a southern drawl which Sarah quickly adopted. She’s wearing leather boots, form fitting Levi’s and a plaid button down shirt.

  “My word little darlin are you still studying?”

  “No I’m all done at least for the weekend. What are you up to today?”

  “You remember I told you about our monthly group outings,” she asks as she sits on her bed to take off her boots.

  I nod yes even though I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  Well a bunch of us are heading over to Chrisy Field in the city. We’re going to play flag football then maybe hike near China Beach. Should I even bother asking you to come?”

  “I know I’m a terrible roommate.”

  She rummages through her messy closet and comes out with a pair of shorts and a baby-t. I never talked to Sarah about cleaning her side of the room but she at least keeps all of her junk in the closet rather than on the floor. “Tucker will be there,” Sarah says, “and he asked me to invite you,” she continues.

  This gets my attention. On the rare occasions that Sarah and I are home at the same time we lie awake in bed talking about our future plans and giggling about boys. Sarah talks about becoming a Broadway actor and about whatever boy she happens to be dating at the time. I talk about my family and about applying for internships then inevitably I end up talking about Tucker.

  Sarah would say, “He’s friends with my brother Riley so why don’t you let me hook you up?”

  My reply is always the same, “Tucker Bradley is a distraction.” What I really should say is Tucker is out of my league.

  “Are you lying to me?” I ask sitting up on the bed.

  Sarah says, “He really asked me to bring you and I would like to remind you that you promised me on our first day as roommates that you would go out with me. We have not bonded at all and I am starting to think you don’t like me.” Sarah places the back of her hand on her forehead and turns away in a dramatic stance.

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve been to at least four of your plays.”

  “That doesn’t count because it’s on campus. I want us to be off campus friends.”

  Sarah stands and looks at me with her head tilted to one side and blinking
her enormous green eyes. “Did I mention that Tucker broke up with Amy?” Amy is the illusive girlfriends I occasionally see him with even though they supposedly broke up months ago.

  “Alright but you’ll have to help me pick out something to wear,” I say bounding to my feet.

  Sarah does a happy dance then searches through my closet for the most inappropriate thing she can find. “Here, this is perfect,” She says handing me pink palates’ pants and a tight white t-shirt with the words ‘baby girl’ written in pink ink.

  “Sarah, I can’t wear that in public.”

  “Aww come on! You’ll look hot I might need you to be my wing man later.”

  “What about Tex?” I say.

  “What about him?” She shrugs. “I’m way too young to be tied down.”

  I dress in the outfit along with a pair of pink and white Nike’s on loan from Sarah. She insists that I replace the bun with a high pony tail. I cover the outfit with a long sweat shirt despite the 75 degree weather. When we arrive at Chrisy Field several men and women are standing around talking. They are all wearing their belts and flags. I take off the sweat shirt, place it on the ground and walk towards the group. I spot Tucker right away. I’ve been avoiding him since our rainy day incident. I stopped sitting on the first row in class and I rush out immediately after the lectures. Real mature, I know. Tucker is wearing basketball shorts and a blue graphic t-shirt. His arms are massive and his dark curly hair is falling into his eyes. He’s talking to a group of guys. I approach the group and one of them taps his arm and nods in my direction. Tucker smiles at me. I look down and tug at the t-shirt wishing I could add another half inch of material to the bottom.

  Sarah pushes my hand away, “stop that,” she says. “Stand up straight, stick out your chest and give em something to talk about.”