by S. Walden
They laughed.
“How you gonna graduate, man? Can’t even get yo’ ass outta bed,” he continued.
“Man, don’t you worry ‘bout me. I got plans,” Lamar replied, completely unaffected by Kareem’s teasing. “Don’t you never stay in bed late, Emma?” he asked.
Emma began feeling a bit more relaxed listening to the conversation around her with detached curiosity until she was addressed directly. Her nerves jumped.
“I . . . sure, I guess,” she replied.
“See, now you gonna say she lazy and give her all kinda shit about not graduatin’?” Lamar asked.
“She actually go to school,” Johnny D said. “That’s the difference, you dumb fuck.”
“Fuck you, man. I ain’t even tryin’ to be upset by any of y’all. And I ain’t sharin’ my weed later, neither,” Lamar said.
The friends groaned and argued, cajoled and entreated until Lamar agreed to share his weed for a small price. Each had to buy him lunch sometime the following week. Emma noticed one friend who remained quiet during the conversation: Nate. He looked her over, sizing her up, scowling from time to time as the others gently teased her and peppered her with questions. His silence was unnerving.
“Girl, you ain’t never did weed?” Johnny D asked bewildered.
“No,” Emma replied. Oh God, were they going to make her smoke weed, she thought with panic?
“And she ain’t gonna,” Anton said. “Don’t even be axin’ her ‘bout doin’ drugs or nothin’ like that.”
“Relax, papa, I wasn’t offerin’. I just ain’t never met no one who hadn’t tried it,” Johnny D said. “I am genuinely amazed.”
Emma smiled at that.
“What you see in this dumbass nigga anyway?” Lamar asked, pointing at Anton.
“Um, I don’t know,” Emma replied. “I see a lot.”
“I see a lotta bullshit,” Kareem said, playfully punching Anton in the stomach.
“Whateva nigga. You mad ‘cause you ain’t eva had my skills on the court,” Anton replied, forcing Kareem into a headlock.
“Who the fuck cares? I got mad skills on the mic,” Kareem argued.
His head was still locked in Anton’s arm as he addressed Emma. “See Emma, that why my name Kareem the Dream. I flow on the mic like Biggie. I got the dreamlike flow, see?”
“I think so,” Emma replied.
Finally Nate spoke up.
“What you mean you see?” he asked aggressively.
Emma did not reply.
“Do you even know what the fuck he just said?”
“Hey man, take it easy,” Kareem said as Anton released him from the headlock.
All eyes were on Nate.
“I am takin’ it easy. I’m just axin’ our little friend here a question.” He looked at Emma. “You know what he meant by what he said? You eva heard of Biggie Smalls? You know who he is? Has you eva listened to rap music before? You undastand what it mean to flow on a mic?”
“Chill out, Nate,” Anton said.
“Nah, man. This is bullshit,” Nate said. “How you gonna bring this bitch up in here talkin’ ‘bout you datin’ her? Then she gonna stand around actin’ like she know what the hell we talkin’ about.”
“I said chill out,” Anton said evenly.
“Man, whateva,” Nate said and stormed out of the room. Anton followed being careful to close the bedroom door behind him.
Emma, Kareem, Johnny, and Lamar could hear the argument clearly. Kareem tried to start up a fresh conversation to distract Emma, knowing that she would undoubtedly hear words that would upset her, but she put her hand on his arm to signal silence.
“Don’t call my girl a bitch,” Anton said.
“Man, you called her a bitch! Remember that?” Nate spat.
“I told you, that was a mistake. What’s yo’ problem, anyway? She ain’t eva done nothin’ to you,” Anton replied.
“She not our kind, man. What you doin’ datin’ some white chick?”
“I like her,” Anton said pointedly.
“Nigga you lost yo’ mind,” Nate said.
“She a nice girl. A good girl. Give her a chance, Nate.”
“Fuck that. I don’t care if she nice and good. It ain’t about that. It’s about you rejectin’ where you come from,” Nate explained.
“That’s crazy, man. I’m rejecting my blackness ‘cause I gotta white girlfriend? You hear how retarded that sound?” Anton said laughing.
“I ain’t laughin’, nigga,” Nate replied. “You a black man. You date black girls. That’s how it is.”
“Maybe for you,” Anton said. “Why it always gotta be about color anyway?”
“Because it is! That’s the world we live in! And we from the projects, man. We ghetto. Thug. Weed and K’s.”
“What the hell, Nate? Nobody gotta damn AK-47,” Anton said, trying not to laugh. “Crazy nigga.”
“Fuck you, man. You know what I mean. How you gonna make yo’ world and her world happen together? It can’t. Unless you plannin’ on bein’ a sell-out.”
“What the hell does datin’ a white girl have to do with bein’ a sell-out?” Anton asked.
“It’s the first step,” Nate said coolly. “Then you be dissin’ yo’ friends for her, wantin’ to sound like a preppy white muthafucka for her, gettin’ a big time job in her daddy’s company.”
“Nigga, you lost yo’ mind. I don’t even know what the hell you talkin’ about,” Anton said. “I’m just a senior in high school datin’ a white girl. I ain’t lookin’ for no corporate job.”
“Stop downplayin’ this shit, man. I ain’t comfortable with it. I don’t like it.”
“So what are you sayin’?” Anton asked.
“I don’t want you datin’ her,” Nate said.
“Now you really lost yo’ damn mind.”
“You said our opinions important to you,” Nate reminded him.
“They are, Nate, but come on. You really tellin’ me who I can date?” Anton asked.
“No, I’m tellin’ you who you can’t date.”
Anton bristled. “Well, I think I’m’ll make that decision for myself. I’m eighteen years old, Nate.”
“She come into yo’ life, I go out. It’s that simple, dog,” Nate said.
There was silence.
“You really gonna do this over a girl?” Anton asked. “That stupid, man. Come on. You know that stupid.”
“She come in, I go out,” Nate repeated.
Anton said nothing and Nate understood. He walked out of the apartment, and Anton stared after him, bewildered and angry. He expected Nate to be the least accepting of the four, but he didn’t expect that reaction. He walked back into the bedroom. Everyone tried to act casual, like they were hanging and talking while the argument ensued, but he knew they all heard every word. Finally, Kareem spoke.
“He come around,” Kareem said. “You know how he is. Hot head.”
“Yeah,” Anton said quietly.
“He just wanna look like a badass in front of Emma,” Lamar offered, and then after a thought added, “Maybe he jealous. She cute.”
“Shut the hell up, man,” Kareem said. “You ain’t helpin’.”
Emma wanted nothing more than to leave. She felt like a foreigner, unwelcomed, though his friends made an effort to get to know her. Well, most of them. She didn’t belong there; she felt it deep within. And she wouldn’t break up a friendship. She didn’t want to be held accountable for that.
“I’m gonna go,” she said.
“Why?” Anton asked.
“I’ve got things to do,” she lied. It was pathetic. She didn’t even try to make it sound genuine.
Anton nodded but said nothing.
“You sure you don’t wanna stay and get high with us?” Johnny D offered. He grinned at Anton.
“Man, you ain’t smokin’ that shit in my house. And no, she ain’t gettin’ high with you,” Anton said.
“Thank you, but no.” Emma grabbed her purse fr
om the bed. “It was nice meeting all of you.”
The boys grunted replies.
“I’ll walk you out,” Anton said.
“No. You stay here with your friends. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Please just let me go,” she said quietly and left the room before he could respond.
Nate was a few doors down sitting on the stoop of his apartment building. She noticed him immediately when she walked out, and tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. She felt his eyes boring into her and fumbled with her car keys. She couldn’t get away fast enough. She felt panicked, her hand shaking as she searched for the unlock button on her key ring.
“Nice ride,” Nate called. “Yo’ daddy buy you that?”
She didn’t respond.
“He prolly buy you whateva you want, don’t he?”
“Emma, put your finger on the button,” she said quietly, her voice weak and unsteady.
“Daddy’s little girl,” Nate continued. “So good and sweet. He know you fuckin’ a nigga?”
The doors unlocked. Sweet relief. Emma climbed into her car and shut the door. She was shaking fiercely. She fumbled again trying to start the ignition. She hadn’t noticed that Nate had walked over to her car. He rapped his knuckles on her window. She jumped violently.
“Yo’ daddy know you fuckin’ a nigga?” he called to her through the window.
She sped out of the parking lot not bothering to look for traffic before pulling onto the road. She felt the tears coursing, wiping at them clumsily as she tried to focus on driving. She felt like a fool. How could she think this would work? Why did she go back that night? If she had never gone back that night, how would things be different? They would still be just partners on a school assignment who entertained a mild flirtation. Then school would be over and he would be gone and she would think nothing of it.
But now she was in something terribly deep, connected to him in the most intimate way. She had given herself to him completely, and there was no way to undo that. She cried out of fear. She was afraid of Nate, afraid of what her friends would say when they found out. She pulled into the nearly-empty parking lot of a gas station and wept hard. She wept until exhaustion overtook her, resting her head against the steering wheel and closing her eyes to the world.
CHAPTER 16
THURSDAY, MAY 6
Emma was careful to avoid Anton all day. She ducked in and out of rooms, going frequently to the bathroom to hide in between classes, carrying all of her books for the entire day to avoid seeing him at the lockers, even going off campus for lunch—a senior privilege. She acquired a nurse’s pass to be excused from English class and sat far away from him in history, never giving him the opportunity to talk with her because she stayed close to Morgan. She knew it was childish, but she could not yet face him. She did not know what she wanted or needed to say to him. She just knew that she felt she had messed everything up for him and perhaps for herself.
When the final bell rang, she found herself back in the girls’ bathroom to wait out the clearing crowd. She did not notice Morgan follow her in.
“What is going on?” Morgan demanded peremptorily.
Emma whirled around to see her best friend standing, hands on hips, eyebrows raised in question.
“What do you mean?”
“Please. Don’t play stupid. You’ve been acting weird all day. Like you’re hiding from someone,” Morgan pressed.
“I’m not hiding from anyone.”
“Is it that guy you’re working with? That partner for English class?” Morgan’s tone became more urgent. “Did he say something to you? Do something to you?”
“No,” Emma said. “It’s nothing.”
Morgan cocked her head to the side. “You wanna try again?”
Emma let her bags fall to the floor and walked over to the window. She pretended to look out though the panes were frosted.
“Emma?”
“I had sex with him.” She expected an immediate reaction but got none. “Did you hear me? I had sex—”
“I heard you,” Morgan said.
Emma turned around to face her friend. Morgan looked concerned.
“Did he force you?” she asked.
“Jesus, Morgan! No! Why would you say that?”
“Because he looks like the type,” Morgan replied.
“He looks like the type? What the hell does that even mean? What, because he’s black? You assumed he forced me to have sex with him because he’s black?” Emma felt the anger bubbling over.
“Oh my God. You like him?!” Morgan asked.
“We’re dating,” Emma said quietly.
“So, you’ve had sex with him more than once?”
Emma gave her friend an exasperated look.
“I’m sorry, Emma, this is just a lot to take in. My best friend has been dating a black guy for how long, and she hasn’t told me anything until now?”
“It hasn’t been that long. But you’re right, and I’m sorry. I should have told you the moment we got together,” Emma said.
“Is this just, like, an experiment or phase or something? Are you trying on black guys to see if you like them?” Morgan asked.
“No, Morgan. I’m not trying him on. I genuinely like him.” And she added softly, “I love him.”
“Oh my God.”
“Why can’t I love him?” Emma asked defensively.
“Because he’s from the projects, that’s why,” Morgan said. “What do you honestly think will come of this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think you two will stay together? You think you’ll be able to make this whole black and white thing work?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not thinking ten years down the road.”
“Well, maybe you should. Do you want to be living in the projects with some nobody who doesn’t have a job because he has zero motivation and he’s stupid and—”
“He’s not stupid! Don’t say that about him,” Emma snapped.
“Okay, who are you and where’s my best friend?” Morgan asked.
“I can’t help I fell in love with him,” Emma said.
“What do you even see in him, Emma? He called you an uptight white bitch? Remember? Now you’re telling me you’ve had sex with him? Excuse me if I’m a little confused,” Morgan said.
“I told you we cleared up the bitch thing,” Emma said lamely.
“Oh, that’s right. You cleared up the bitch thing. How could I forget?”
“Don’t be like that, Morgan,” Emma pleaded. “I love him. I fell in love with him. I’ve been spending nearly every day with him, and I’ve gotten to know him. He’s funny and smart and insightful. He hides a lot of that at school, but I’ve seen it. I can’t help it. I love him and I don’t know what to do.”
Morgan watched a tear glide down her friend’s cheek. She wanted to hug her, but she was too angry with her, an anger she knew was completely unfair, but it was there all the same.
“How do you think you guys will be able to make it work? You’re from completely different worlds,” Morgan pointed out.
“We just will,” Emma said, though she was doubtful.
“You’re living in a fairytale, Emma.”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are. You think you can make it work—your world, his world. It can’t. Sooner or later one of you is going to have to choose the other person’s world, and frankly, I’d like to not see my best friend go ghetto on me.”
Emma wiped at her face and said nothing.
“Do either of you have any of the same dreams?”
“I don’t know,” Emma confessed. What does that have to—?”
“Exactly. You want to go to college and you are. You want to be successful and you will. Is he even going to college? Does he even want a job, or is he more worried about buying his next stash of weed?” Morgan asked.
“Why are you being so nasty?” Emma said.
“I’m being realistic because I love you.”
“He doesn’t smoke weed,” Emma said.
Morgan let out a disdainful laugh. “You really are living in a fairytale.”
“Stop saying that,” Emma demanded.
“What do you want me to say, huh? You want me to give you my blessing? I’m not your parents, Emma.”
“I want you to be okay with it,” Emma pleaded.
“Well, I’m not, okay? And you’re putting me in a really awkward position here. I mean, come on Emma, have you looked around our school lately? It’s not exactly that melting pot we keep learning about in history. Blacks stay with blacks. Whites stay with whites. Mexicans stay with Mexicans. Are you seeing the pattern?”
“I don’t care about the factions in our school, Morgan. I care about your opinion. And anyway, we’re done in, like, four weeks. Who cares?”
Morgan was silent for a moment. She wanted to continue chiding Emma, making her feel uncomfortable for the choice she made, asking her the difficult questions she knew Emma could not answer, but curiosity over her friend’s new, potentially risky relationship won out.
“Is he big?” she asked, her tone completely changed.
“What?”
“You know. Does he have a big dick?” Morgan asked.
“Oh my God. I’m so not answering that question,” Emma replied mortified.
“Well, I keep hearing about how black guys have big dicks,” Morgan said.
Emma cracked a smile.
“So he is big,” Morgan said. She could not help it as the grin broke out on her own face.
“I didn’t say a word,” Emma replied, and both girls giggled.
“This is just so weird, Emma,” Morgan said trying for seriousness. “I’m sorry for being mean about it, I really am. But you’ve got to see where I’m coming from. My best friend is getting it on with a black guy.”
“It’s not just about sex,” Emma said.
“I know, I know, but that’s all I can think about,” Morgan confessed.
The girls were silent for a moment.
“Do you really think I’m living in a fairytale?” Emma asked.
“Yes. Look Emma, I’m just gonna be straight with you. I think you’re gonna get hurt. And I’m not saying that he’ll necessarily be the one to hurt you. I just think that the situation is not going to work out the way you want it to.”