by Nikki Rashan
“Say, Steph, are you going to be working on your research paper this weekend? I’m going to the school library tomorrow to get started. You want to come along?”
I discreetly crossed my fingers behind my back.
“I have to take Jaron to winter basketball camp tryouts in the morning,” Steph replied. “And after that I was taking him back to my mom’s because I had the same thing in mind. I can meet you later if you’ll still be there around two.”
“I should be there all day long, trust me, girl.”
We pulled up to my apartment and I hugged Steph good-bye before she got in her car. She had hardly closed the car door when Jeff said, “Wow, you didn’t tell me she was fine! You can’t tell me she couldn’t find a date. Any of my boys would fall to their knees for a date with her.”
“I know. Any man would be crazy not to be attracted to her. But she’s not interested in hooking up with a guy right now.” Was I setting myself up for another question?
“No?” Jeff asked like he couldn’t believe it. “What, is she one of those women waiting for a pro athlete or something?”
“No, she’s not like that, Jeff,” I said defensively. “She wants to concentrate on school and taking care of Jaron, you know, without the hassles of a relationship.”
A look of surprise came over Jeff’s face. “Since when are relationships a hassle?”
Shit. He was reading too much into what I was saying.
“I didn’t mean relationships are a hassle. It’s just harder to maintain a relationship in a situation like Steph’s when she works full-time, goes to school, and is a single parent. She has to find a person that can handle filling a caretaker role with Jaron and can handle the responsibility of a ready-made family. Just any old Joe Shmo won’t do in her eyes.”
I laughed to myself. Anyone named Joe, literally. I wasn’t sure where I was getting this information from, but I had to think of something. I wasn’t ready to tell Jeff about Steph’s sexuality.
“I see what you’re saying. A girl like her has her selection anyway.”
“Yes, she’s beautiful,” I said.
We were both tired. Too tired for showers, so we stripped down to our undies and slipped under the covers. I laid my head on his shoulder and inhaled the musky, pine smell of his cologne as I twisted the swirly hairs on his chest.
I closed my eyes and pretended I smelled lavender body lotion and the chest hairs disappeared. I stroked one of his nipples until it became hard and aroused and I drifted off to sleep listening to Steph moan at my touch.
6
The ring of my telephone woke me up at seven on a breezy Saturday morning. I unwound myself from Jeff’s embrace and reached for the receiver.
“Hello,” I said with a groggy voice.
“Hey, Ky, I’m so sorry to wake you. I’m having a crisis.”
I sat upright. “What’s going on, Vanessa?”
“Roger’s mom says she won’t have anything to do with the wedding if we don’t get married at her church.” I laid back down. It was too early for this shit. “Girl, why not? What’s up with her?”
She groaned. “His mom is such a control freak, and she just wants to get her way and impress her family and friends. This is her manipulative way of getting what she wants.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. I need to talk to Roger. But I know he’s not about to defy his mother. God forbid he actually disagree with her.”
“And Roger is how old?” I asked sarcastically. “He’s a grown man, Vanessa.”
I could almost hear Vanessa’s eyes roll in the back of her head.
“To answer your question, he’s twenty-nine. But sit him next to his mama and take away twenty years. I love Roger to death, Ky, but his mama is going to drive me crazy. I know it already.”
I started picking the clumps of mascara out of my eyelashes and turned over so I could quit blowing my morning breath in Jeff’s face.
“Remember what I said before, V. It’s your wedding day, so do what feels right for you. Even if it pisses some people off.”
Vanessa sighed and was silent for a while. I almost fell back asleep.
“You’re right,” she finally said. “I don’t know why I’m tripping, anyway. Roger and I don’t have a church home of our own. Maybe it shouldn’t even matter where we get married. But what happened to it being the bride’s day? Shit, my family and I are paying for most of this wedding anyway.”
Vanessa rarely said a cuss word and it was almost funny when she did. This wasn’t the time for me to laugh, though. Plus, she had a point there.
“Just talk to Roger and see what the two of you come up with,” I suggested.
“Thanks, Ky. I’m sorry, you can go back to sleep now. I just needed someone to vent to.”
“Don’t worry about it, V. I want your day to be special, so I’m by your side no matter what you decide. I have to get up anyway and head to the library. I have to do some research on teenage pregnancy. Particularly, statistics on age groups, ethnic backgrounds, broken homes, whether the girls were sexually molested as children, and on and on. I think I’m going to be there all day.”
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go. I’ll see you Monday morning.”
“Bye, V.”
I hung up the phone and put my face back in my pillow. I usually tried to sleep in on Saturdays, but this paper wasn’t about to write itself. I looked over at Jeff and watched his chest rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. He could sleep through a tornado as long as his bed didn’t move. Even with his mouth hanging open and drool peeking out of the corners, he was still so handsome.
He’d told me a number of times that he couldn’t wait for us to have babies. We’ll have such pretty kids, Ky, he says. All I know is, I’ve seen some of the cutest couples with some funny-ass looking kids. And then some people uglier than boogers make some of the cutest little babies. You know, in the back of your head you’re looking at the mother and the supposed daddy, thinking, Now she knows her ass is lying . . . but no babies for me yet. I wondered how Steph does it.
I kissed Jeff on the ear and rolled out of bed. I ran a hot bath and poured sesame oil under the running water before searching my closet for something comfortable, but cute, to wear. I settled on light blue, boot-cut jeans, and a red ribbed-fitted turtleneck I’d ordered from the Victoria’s Secret catalog. I decided on my black shoe boots, since I would be sitting most of the day.
While bathing, I shaved and trimmed every unwanted hair off of my body. I scented my skin with exotic bouquet bath gel, another favorite from Victoria’s Secret. After my bath, I put on my makeup and unwrapped my hair, smoothing it with a flatiron. I was packing my backpack when a sleepy voice startled me.
“You sure are looking pretty good to be going to the library,” Jeff said, wiping that crusty drool from his mouth.
I teased him. “Is that jealousy or insecurity I hear, mister?”
“A little bit of both, I guess,” he admitted.
I walked to him and pinched his nose.
“Now you know where I’ll be, who I’ll be with, and what I’ll be doing. Should I keep my pager and cell phone on so you can hit me up every hour on the hour?”
He laughed. “I don’t know, Ky. The two of you will be like male magnets. The fellas won’t be able to stay away. Even if you are just in the library.”
“There’s only one fella for me, and I hope he’s here when I get back,” I said.
Jeff tapped his fingers against the headboard. “I thought I told you that Kent and I are having dinner with Mom and Dad tonight. Then Kent wants to go have some drinks afterward. He said he’s got something to talk to me about.”
That meant more time with Steph.
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll probably be tired and brain-dead by this evening, anyway.”
I picked up my bag, kissed his dry lips and headed out the door.
The university library was already pretty crowded when I a
rrived. I found a table in the corner near the social sciences section. I marked my territory with my backpack and jacket and began searching for books and periodicals on teen pregnancy.
It took a while before I found material that would help me with my paper. But it probably took so long because I was looking at the clock every minute and a half to see how close it was to two.
I finally immersed myself in reading, taking notes and making copies when I realized it was 1:45 P.M. I hopped up and went to the bathroom to freshen up. I combed my hair, which was tousled from playing in it while I was thinking and studying. I touched up my makeup, adding fresh powder and M•A•C lip gloss. When I stepped back to look at myself in the mirror, I had to laugh. I was getting all dolled up for a girl. Now that was a first. And why was I doing it? She was going to know that I just added makeup, considering I’ve been here since 9:30 A.M. But I didn’t mind. I wanted her to know.
I was back at my table reading a journal when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
“Hey, lady,” Steph said as she sat her backpack next to mine.
I looked up and almost thought I looked in the mirror. She looked great in blue jeans, a red turtleneck, and a black leather jacket and boots. The only difference was her hair still hung straight, but the part had been moved to the right side. To top it off, her lips glistened with a fresh coat of lip gloss. That made me smile.
“Were we on the same wavelength this morning or what?” I asked as I stood up to model my outfit and give her a hug. She smelled delicious as usual.
“Are you getting a lot done?” she asked while taking out a pen and notebook.
“I am. I’ve gathered enough information that I can start the rough draft of the paper. There’s a couple of Web sites that may be beneficial, but I’ll see what I can do with what I have so far.”
“We can stay here for a while and then go back to my place to use my computer if you want.” She looked around. “It’s so crowded in here, and I bet all the computers are full.”
“Yes, they are. I checked, and they’re all logged out for the rest of the day.”
“Okay, I only need a couple of hours here looking for material on gender discrimination, wherever that may be. I’m sure I’ll have to check a few areas to find what I want.”
I had been in school so long and visited this library so many times that I knew where everything was. I pointed her in the right direction.
“Thanks. Off I go,” she said, standing up.
“Good luck!”
I watched her walk off and wondered how a baby ever came through those hips. She had a flat tummy, curves in the waist, and hips that led to strong, muscular thighs underneath those jeans. She walked confidently, speaking to those she made eye contact with and smiling at those awed by her beauty.
I was poorly humming an oldie by Earth, Wind & Fire, “Love’s Holiday,” when she returned thirty minutes later.
“Would you mind . . .” she sang, joining in with me. I could hear the talent in her voice with just those few notes.
“You sound good, Steph!” I said, surprised. But why was I suprised? A beautiful voice from a beautiful woman.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I usually only sing to Jaron. I’ve been singing to him since the day I found out I was pregnant.”
“Where did you get your voice from?”
“My daddy used to sing,” she said, speaking softly. “He would sing a song to my sister and me almost every night. We would take our baths and put on our pajamas and wait for him to sing us to sleep. My parents never had to fight to get us in the bed. He had a soulful Teddy Pendergrass type of voice, and sometimes I would hear him sing to my mom after he left our room.”
She smiled as she reminisced. “He missed his calling.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He was a mailman. He died when I was ten. My mom said he would sing through his whole route.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds like you were close.”
“Yes, we were. I loved him so much. My mom still says she can’t believe I’m gay, considering how close I was to my father. She was so sure I would be all up under some man looking for a replacement. So I told her that was more proof that we’re born this way. I didn’t choose it.” As an afterthought she added, “Who would choose it?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went back to writing, while she started flipping the pages of one of her books.
We worked in silence for a couple of hours, though periodically I would look up and catch her nibbling on the cap to her pen or biting her bottom lip while she read and considered which notes to jot down. Only once she looked up and caught my gaze. This time I managed to hold my stare, her eyes receptive to my silent survey of her demeanor. We remained fixated on one another, until a tremor so sudden and so intense swept through my body that I was forced to look away. What was happening to me?
By the time we decided to leave, it was five-thrity. My paper was almost complete, and her outline was ready. Though we each accomplished much and could call it a day, I wasn’t ready to leave her.
“I haven’t eaten, Steph. You hungry?” I asked her, hopeful we could get a bite to eat together.
“Yes, I’m glad you asked. You’re still coming over, right?”
Yes!
“You want to pick up something on the way to my place? That’ll give me a minute to straighten up, okay?”
“What would you like? Barbecue is sounding pretty good to me right now.”
“Works for me. Speed King,” she suggested.
Speed King was a restaurant on the edge of the central city that had some of the best ’cue in town. Just don’t go after a night of club-hopping because you’ll be stuck in drive-through ’til dawn.
“You go ahead home. I’ll pick up the food and meet you there,” I said.
“Okay. Should I make some red Kool-Aid to go with that or more Absolut?” she joked.
I laughed. “After today, I’ll go with the Absolut,” I said with a smile.
“You got it.” She laughed.
I waited a good twenty-five minutes for our pork shoulder dinners. The smell had my stomach growling all the way across town to Steph’s place.
When I got inside, I immediately took off my boots and relieved my squished toes. Steph had lit candles and placed them on her kitchen table, and two small shot glasses filled to the rim waiting. We toasted to A+ papers and seven more weeks of class. My food went down as smoothly as the shot (and just as quickly). Steph must have been just as hungry because she was right behind me scraping up the last drips of barbecue sauce with her white bread.
After we tossed our containers she asked if I was ready for the computer.
“I don’t even want to think about teens and pregnancy the rest of the day. No thanks!” I said.
“I didn’t think so.” She paused. “You know I fit into that category.”
“What?”
“I’m a statistic, being a teen parent.”
“But your case is different, Steph.”
“I was eighteen with a child. The age says I’m a stat, regardless of the circumstances. You may want to look into teenage pregnancies that result from rape, for your paper. Especially date rape.”
I felt insensitive, considering I hadn’t even thought of that. “You’re right. I’ll see what information I can find.”
Steph poured us another shot, and I was glad that she did. Not that I was nervous around her and needed to relax. But there were some things I wanted to ask her that I was hoping we both would be comfortable talking about.
Alcohol always helped inch those thoughts of mine from my brain to my vocal cords.
“I’m not feeling the study thing anymore either,” she said as she nestled with a pillow on the couch.
I sat on the opposite end, close to the picture of her ex-girlfriend.
“You know, Steph, I think Yvonne knows about you and a previous relationship you had.”
“What makes you t
hink that?”
“We had lunch a few days ago and she hinted around to seeing you and a woman holding hands while grocery-shopping.”
She raised her eyebrows.
I continued. “And based on her description of the woman, I’m thinking it must have been the pretty lady in this picture,” I said, pointing at Michelle.
“Ah, very perceptive you two are,” she said, grinning. “Yes, Michelle and I were a couple. I don’t remember paying much attention to Yvonne when I went in the store, but Michelle and I used to grocery-shop together all the time. We lived together, so it only made sense.”
“She lived here in this apartment with you?”
“No, we lived on the east side for a year before she moved back home. We were together almost three years, and it’s been two years since she moved. It took a while for me to get over her leaving. She was my first true love.”
I took this moment as an opportunity to ask my questions. Here we go. “Have you had many relationships with women?”
“I’ve only had relationships with women and I’ve had several. I first started dating undercover back in high school with a member of the girls’ basketball team. She was a jock, and most people assumed we were a couple but no one had proof. We broke up after graduation when she went to Iowa State on a scholarship. She plays in the WNBA now.”
I waited for her to volunteer a name, but she didn’t.
Damn.
“As you know, shortly after that, I got pregnant, and dating was at a halt for a while. I still had the opportunity to date because there are so many lesbian women who want to parent a child, even at that age. But I had to emotionally work though the rape, and I wanted to keep my focus on my baby and my future. Loneliness got the best of me, and I went on a dating rampage shortly after Jaron turned one. My mom was so helpful and understanding and she allowed me lots of free time. I dated many women over the next two years until I met Michelle. I dropped everybody like a bad habit right afterward.”