The COMPLETE Coventon Campus Series: Books I, II, & III

by Wright, Kenya

  Mom and I exchanged worried glances. The attendants gave us no explanation as they gestured for us to come closer.

  “Are we getting inside of these things?” I asked.

  They nodded.

  “O-kay.”

  “It’s a sensory deprivation tank. We want you both to let your senses relax before we begin to work on your body and spirit.”

  “O-kay. What’s in this?” I asked.

  “Water and special salts. You’re going to float inside of the pod. You’ll feel buoyant and weightless.”

  “Look,” Mom called from the other pod. “I was okay with getting a mani-pedi, but no one said I was getting into a dark pod. This is a bit much.”

  Her helper just smiled. “Here are your earplugs, ma’am.”

  “Maybe I’ll keep those bullets on the table,” Mom muttered.

  “Maybe I’ll help you carve some.” I got a better view of the inside of mine as I walked up to it. Pink water filled the whole thing, sort of an enclosed bathtub with lights inside the walls.

  “You will have to take off your clothes,” one of the women said.

  “Okay. Let’s just try it. Jay has never steered us wrong.” Mom was always an adventurer. She started to get out of her sundress as if it was just what one did. “This could be interesting,”

  “I hope interesting is good,” I said.

  Mom’s sundress and garments dropped to the ground, and she headed on over to her pod. One thing I loved about Mom as she got older was how hot she still looked. Her body remained in great shape, and I didn’t have too many fears of aging. At least, not yet.

  “Okay. If that old lady over there can do it, I can do it too.” I pulled off my shirt.

  “I know there better be another woman in the room if you’re yelling out that someone is an old lady.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” I chuckled.

  After I undressed, my attendant helped me into my pod. Inside, the water warmed my body and rose above me as it would, when I sat in a regular tub. It was fine.

  And then they enclosed me into the entire pod. Darkness surrounded me. That scented liquid rippled along my skin. I had to breathe through the initial shock of being inside and alone. My heart boomed a little in my ears until soothing ocean sounds drifted out of the speakers. I inhaled. A salty fragrance wafted my way. We must’ve stayed in our pods for an hour. I lay there, isolated, my mind a quiet line of memories. My senses focused.

  By the time the pod opened, I’d decided to change my life, stop smoking, eat less chocolate, and stress less.

  Let’s hope it sticks.

  Sometime in the pods, they’d placed our clothes in the spa’s locker room. Our attendants handed us both soft robes.

  Mom looked a bit frazzled and admitted, “I came close to screaming.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. If I’d heard you scream, I would’ve blown my peace and got scared too.”

  The attendants signaled for us to return to our bamboo wheelchairs and they pushed us further.

  “I guess I’m checking off a bucket list item. I did the wet, dark pod, but that won’t be happening again.” Mom did not appear pleased at all.

  “I found it peaceful.”

  “Because you’re a weirdo. You get it from your father.” She smiled. “He was quite a voyager. His motto? Try anything and everything once.”

  They rolled us into the next room. Rosemary and lavender perfumed the next space. Two tables sat beside each other.

  Mom leaned my way and whispered, “I’m hoping this is a massage and not an alien probe.”

  I did my best to keep my chuckling down.

  One by one, they helped us out of the chairs as if we were incapable of doing it ourselves. I found it to be a bit much but went with the flow as best as I could. They gestured for us to lie on the tables, and we followed their directions, taking off our robes and resting on our stomachs. Towels covered our lower halves.

  “Here in Serenity Spa, our treatments correspond to the lunar cycle.” The shorter blonde held a bottle in her hand. “Now we have the Waxing Moon phase. We will give you a body scrub, nourishing wrap, and then massage.”

  On the massage table next to me, Mom glanced my way. “Did she say the lunar cycle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted a mani and pedi not a relationship with the moon.”

  I held in my laughter.

  She huffed, “Bye, Valencia.”

  “Jesus,” I mumbled. “Mom, it’s ‘Bye Felicia.’ That’s the saying. ‘Bye, Felicia.’”

  “Stop saying the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “I will, when you stop destroying sayings.”

  “I don’t think it matters whose name is said. The most important part is the bye. That’s what the girls say at Sunday school.”

  “Really? You’re going to get slang advice from nine-year-olds at church? I bet they’re just brimming with modern day coolness. I’m sure they are up on the latest trends.”

  The poor blonde cleared her throat.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I covered my chuckling.

  “We will begin with a pearl-cocoa body scrub,” the blonde continued. “It’s a mixture of ginger, cocoa beans, and pulverized Sabah pearls. It is made during the phase of the full moon, where energy is at its most heightened.”

  While the woman continued to discuss the scrub, behind us, Mom stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

  The blonde finished, “We’ll be bringing out champagne throughout your scrub and massage.”

  Mom ceased with the gagging and winked. “There we go. A nice sip of champagne will surely balance out the moon and me.”

  The spa day carried on with no further problems. They lathered Mom and me in soft things as well as filled us with decadent treats and high-priced champagne. Eventually, they got around to doing our nails.

  By the time we returned to our car, day had turned to night. The driver let Mom out and notified me that I would be remaining in the car.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the driver said. “Your bags are packed and on the plane.”

  “The plane?”

  “My understanding is that you will be flying out of a private airport, using a ‘Mr. Shaw’s’ jet.”

  Hmmm.

  “Oh.” I turned to Mom. “I guess I say goodbye right here?”

  “Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes. “We should say goodbye.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked when she hugged me and refused to let go. “Mom? I’m going to see you again in a month.”

  “I know, but I miss you.”

  “I’ll see you this summer and probably drag Pipe with me.”

  “You better.” Finally, she released me. “Take your time, okay.”

  “Take my time with what?”

  “Take your time with life.”

  “O-kay.” I gave her a weak smile. “What are you going to do now? When do you fly back to Cali?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I’m going to stay in Miami with Wilbur for a while.”

  “Wilbur?”

  “Mr. Shaw.”

  “Yeah, I forgot his first name.”

  “Good, you still aren’t old enough to call him by it. Either way, maybe Pipe will reach out to one of us if we stay in Miami for a few more days.”

  “He’s pretty stubborn, but I hope so.” Shaking my head, I embraced her again, not ready to say goodbye either. “Be careful in Miami, Mom. It’s a crazy city.”

  “I’ll try, and you make sure to stay out of the news for the rest of this week.”

  “I’ll try, but I won’t make any promises.” I laughed and got back in the car.

  Why did Jay change the plans? What’s he doing?

  Palm trees and high-end hotels ran by the vehicle’s window. We zoomed by, and I couldn’t help but feel like the next time I returned to this city, I would be someone else. Not Evie, but something new. Every time I visited, I changed. Jay and Pipe too.

  Wh
o will I be the next time I see you, Miami?

  After thirty minutes of traffic and beeping, we drove into the small airport on the outskirts of the city. I gazed out of the window as we pulled up to Mr. Shaw’s plane.

  And that was when I realized the whole day had been a set up.

  A trail of lit red candles led to the plane. Envelopes bordered the bright path. A bunch of them.

  Jay, what are you doing?

  “Here you go.” The driver opened my door and helped me out. “I hope you have a safe trip.”

  A breeze lifted the bottom of my sundress. My heart hammered while my fingers shivered with excitement and a bit of fear. When it came to Jay, anything could be happening in this moment. He believed in the impossible. He hoped for things out of the box where normal people didn’t linger.

  What’s going on, Jay?

  I walked over to the trail of envelopes that lead to the place. Someone had scribbled my name on everyone. Each was a white square with roses painted on the front.

  “Jay?” I scanned the area. No one else stood outside of the airplane but the driver and me. I turned to him. For whatever reason, he hadn’t left. Instead, he pulled out his cellphone and began taping.

  Okay. I guess I have to open the letters and follow them into the plane.

  Sighing, I opened the first envelope with shivering fingers. A crumpled paper sat inside. It was your typical lined page. Something a kid would use in school. It had Jay’s signature scrawl. I’d always envied his impeccable handwriting.

  But this time, I didn’t linger too long on the way he curved an s or dotted an i. This time, I held in my breath and read.

  June 2005,

  I think I’m in love with Evie.

  The rest of the journal entry was ripped at the bottom. Had he really written this when he was ten years old? That couldn’t be true, but the paper wrinkled in the right spots and the ink came out faded. So many other questions rose. Where had he kept this? I think I remembered that Jay had given Pipe a bunch of boxes to keep safe, right before Jay headed off to college. Neither one of them would discuss the box’s contents. Knowing both of them, I guessed porn filled the boxes.

  Maybe Pipe kept Jay’s journals...and porn.

  I stepped to the next envelope and opened it.

  October 2007,

  This time, when we skinny dipped, my dick rose in the water. Pipe saw. He thought it was funny. Evie didn’t see. I had to sit in the river the whole time, until it went down. If she’d seen me so hard, she might’ve never swam with me again.

  Her body is different now. I hope it keeps changing like this. She’s making me go crazy. Those little buds wiggled on her chest, and she acted like they weren’t even there. And her hips are wider, just like Mrs. Elaine’s…

  The message had been ripped right after my mother’s name. I thought of back in those days, when Jay and Pipe both drooled over her. Anytime they swam at my house, they blushed when Mom came out in a one-piece bathing suit. An average person would’ve thought they’d seen Marilyn Monroe in a bikini.

  Good times. Oh Jay, I love this. But still...what are you doing, baby?

  Giggling, I moved forward and picked up the next envelope.

  May 2010,

  Evie sent me her prom pictures. She double-dated with Pipe. They had fun, and I wished I’d been there. The only person who didn’t know the truth of their prom date was Crystal. She went with Pipe. Evie had Matthew take her.

  In the end, Matthew crushed on Pipe, but couldn’t come out to their high school. So, in true Evie fashion, she came up with a plan. The guys would take women that didn’t mind them all going together.

  Poor Crystal was left out yet had an amazing time anyway. Pipe spoiled her and paid for everything—from the gown to the hair appointment, the classic Rolls Royce that picked everyone up, to the helicopter ride that flew the group to a high-end restaurant in Los Angeles.

  I’m jealous. I should’ve been with her.

  And here, Evie got annoyed at my description of my night at the prom. She heard prom king and made a noise. I pretended not to hear her. When I said my date Alyssa had won prom queen, Evie pretended to vomit. Pipe said she was jealous.

  Was she?

  Pipe went on and on about Evie in her dress. The fact that he’d lost his virginity wasn’t even a big deal. Maybe he hated it.

  I should’ve been with them.

  My body trembled as I tucked the journal entry under my arm with the rest and went to the next. I knew Jay wrote in journals, but I didn’t have any idea he’d tracked everything. What was he doing tonight? Why the walk down memory lane?

  Even crazier, I remembered the prom night and all those feelings that surrounded me. I’d been hoping that Jay would take me to the prom. It couldn’t have happened, however. He lived far away. Our proms went on during the same weekends. When he’d mailed me his pictures, I’d secretly ripped his date out of the photo and taped the image to my locker.

  I continued on this path of lit candles and scribbled notes. Heading closer to the plane, I opened the next envelope.

  February 2012,

  I’m going to tell her how I feel. I’m not sure when. Maybe college will help me get the courage. She wants to stay in California. I’m done with being away from her. I can’t watch her fall in love with someone else.

  I’m going to convince her to come with me. She has to do it. I can’t start freshman year without her.

  More envelopes held entries like the others. Jay remembered it all and wrote about everything. He made note of my first menstrual cycle. Really, Jay? I’d confessed to Pipe about having extreme pain during my period. Pipe must’ve told Jay. Nevertheless, Jay called and told me that his grandmother said elevating my feet would help. That was the Jay I fell in love with. The muscled jock that cared, and never asked for anything in return.

  He’d journaled about us.

  Not football or other women who surely must’ve crushed on him during his high school football fame.

  He wrote about our future—Pipe would live next to us with a harem of men and Michael Jackson while Jay and I would have three kids. He discussed it a lot, and I would’ve never believed it all, without reading it for myself.

  I got to the end of the trail. The last envelope held a red velvet ribbon and sat right in front of the steps that lead to the plane. I picked it up and tore through the paper. It was dated for that day and only held five words:

  I’m going to marry Evie.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, yet a gasp escaped me. He’d told me, but I didn’t prepare myself. He said the words, but I didn’t listen.

  I glanced up.

  Velvet bows and rose petals covered the steps that led up into Pipe’s father’s jet. I climbed the stairs and didn’t even think about what the answer would be.

  What else can it be? He’s loved me as much as I’ve loved him. He really did. All this time. Pipe had been trying to tell us both, and we didn’t listen. Even with the whole Cynthia stuff, he really did want me. If we’d shared our feelings for each other all that time, maybe we would have been together all this time.

  “Jay?” I entered the plane. “Jay?”

  Instead of him standing there, something else greeted my eyes.

  Jay had filled the whole cabin with photo memories of our lives. Dangling from the ceiling, pictures hung from gold, beaded wire. They crowded the space, and on every image, Jay and I laughed or hugged Pipe or ran off dirty-faced and skinny into the sunset. Loads of photos hung. Hundreds of them. So many years had passed by. I walked through the garden of images, touching a few and remembering this or that moment.

  Where did he get all of this? How did he get it so fast? Some of these are mine or Pipes. Did Mom know?

  Images showed Pipe, Jay, and I with missing teeth and wild hair. Others caught our awkward teen years—the rebel three—sunglasses, frowns, and hunched over postures. More captured football championships and funerals, first cigarettes, and the break-ups from guys
and girls that never deserved us.

  Our hair changed from image to image. Pipe went long to short, blonde to bright purple. Jay had an odd long-hair-head phase. He’d scored his first touchdown and refused to cut his hair. That lasted for two football seasons, and then his grandmother dragged him to the barber shop. Sophomore year, I had a love for weave. Pipe called it my Tina Turner stage. Mom ended it after the fourth salon bill.

  Covering my mouth, I laughed and traveled through more of the dangling memories. “Jay? Where are you? Jay?” Warm hands stopped me.

  “I’m right here.” I tried to turn around, but he stopped me and covered my eyes.

  “What do you think?” he whispered in my ear.

  “I think you’re amazing.”

  “Enough to get laid tonight?”

  I touched his hands as he continued to shield my gaze. “Maybe. I’m not that impressed to have sex with you.”

  “Damn. I’m going to have to work harder?”

  “Yes. What else do you have?”

  He removed his hands and turned me around. I opened my eyes. He wore a black tux with a crisp white shirt. A black rose sat in his hand, along with a small velvet box.

  I couldn’t move.

  And then, Jay took it further.

  A woman stepped to my side. Before I could ask what was going on, she began to sing, “I don’t think I could make it without you.”

  “Holy shit,” I blurted out and covered my face, grinning the whole time. “Oh my God.”

  “I’ll just be, a portion of a man. I’m only complete with you.”

  “Jay...” My hands shook.

  “I’m only complete with you.”

  The next words she held the note so long my insides twisted. “My love.”

  Sometimes, I heard a song and just wanted to sway and hold my hands up above my head. To fly. That was how she sang it, with pain and anguish like there was nothing else to live for but this person’s arms around her and the promise of more.

  “You,” she sang high. “You are my love.”

  My chest weighed down heavy. Jay lowered to his knees.

  “And when I close my eyes,” she rose her voice into a beautiful melody. “I dream of you.”