Overcoming

by H. R. Kitte-Rojas

  "Yeah. We kind of nodded at each other, my first few trips from the suite to the bathroom. Then, the last time I passed her, she flashed me a smile. Miles, I can still see that smile when I shut my eyes."

  "Wow." Miles said.

  "But did I step up and talk to her? Of course not. I smiled back, but didn't know what else to do. That was it. But then, three days later, I spot her at the end of a line in the cafeteria. It wasn't the shortest line, but I go to that line, standing right behind her." "Had you figured out something to say by then?"

  Frank blushed. "C'mon, Miles, this is hard enough already. No. Then Ted walks up to me. Ted's this lonely, outcast geek-type who works at the same on-campus job I do. I kind of accidentally became his surrogate big brother, somehow. He wasn't hungry--just wandering around, aimlessly. He saw somebody he recognized and walked up to chat. Now a player might have brushed him off, so as not to have the quality babe standing right next to us associate me with this nerd loser. But I was kinda glad to show her I knew how to talk, and not just nod or smile like an idiot."

  "Oh no," Miles said, slapping his forehead. "Ted hit on the babe?"

  Frank laughed. "No, and after a minute or two he goes back to wandering. Then she started talking to me."

  "Friendly?"

  "Yeah, friendly. It was just small talk. Polite stuff. But, y'know, making an effort to be sociable. Looking back, she was shooting signals at me I could have picked up on, now. But at the time, I wasn't sure. We made it to the front of the line. She got her food; I got mine; we went our separate ways."

  "Did you get her name, at least?"

  Frank raised both hands to his head in a hair-pulling gesture. "You'd think I'd get at least that much, right? There's only a thousand unthreatening ways to ask a girl's name. But I couldn't think up one of them."

  Miles reached back for his Pop Tart and took a bite. "You really were socially inept, weren't you?"

  Frank nodded. "That's ironic, because, even as a freshman, I was well-respected by the other mass-com majors, and faculty too. I was confident, and competent--except when it came to this girl. See, part of the problem was the racial difference. I second-guessed all the signals I thought I might have seen, because she was such a babe, and I had trouble believing she was attracted to me." Frank pointed at his own white face, then pinched at his white skin.

  He took a swig of orange juice and cleared his throat. "Anyway, now it's winding down toward the end of my freshman year. I've misplaced a tape I need for a final project; I read a syllabus wrong and I'm completely unprepared for a final exam in a gen ed class; and there's some issue the registrar or bursar or somebody has with me, which could affect my enrollment next year, that I can't even remember now. You know how moody and single-minded I can get under stress, right?"

  Miles shrugged. "Kind of."

  "Trust me:" Frank said, "in the dictionary, under 'tunnel vision,' you'll see my picture."

  Miles chuckled.

  "So I've got all this on my mind, I've got maybe half-an-hour before my final exam for history, and I'm on my way to try to cram for it before the class starts. I'm walking down the hall toward the staircase, right past the lobby where I've seen this girl so many times, but my mind is a million light years away. I get to the stairway door and finally notice somebody's been yelling. Something makes me look back, and I realize some black dude is yelling at me. I don't know him

  -he's part of this black clique I see around campus sometimes. But guess who's there with him in the clique this time?"

  "Her," Miles said.

  "Her. She, the dude, and everybody in the hallway, and the lobby, are looking at me. The dude says, 'yo, man, this lady here wants a word with you'." Frank sighed, folded his hands, and appeared angry.

  "What?" Miles asked.

  "I'm telling you all this in retrospect," Frank said. "I've had time to think about it. A long, long, time. But I'm telling you, at the time it was happening...my eyes saw her; my ears heard what her friend said; but it's like my brain didn't interpret everything until afterwards. After I got a handle on the exam, the academic issue, and found the missing tape...only then did it dawn on me." Frank pushed a knuckle into one temple.

  "She enlisted her friend to introduce you," Miles said.

  Frank nodded. "We were coming up on summer break. We wouldn't see each other in the lobby any more. She took initiative. Can you imagine the guts it took to put herself on the spot like that? To make an overture to a white boy, in the middle of all her black classmates. And for all the talk about diversity, there were no interracial couples on campus. Well, not black females with white males, anyway."

  "What happened?"

  Frank laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I stared at her for a second, then went up the stairs to my history exam."

  Miles was appalled. He hadn't expected a happy ending, but he felt like he'd just seen a baby kitten run over by a truck.

  "I never saw her again. Not next year. Not ever. Maybe she transferred. Maybe she quit school. Maybe whatever she did had nothing to do with that day. But she must have been utterly humiliated. If it had happened at any other time but right then..."

  "It literally didn't register in your mind until later?" Miles asked.

  "Literally," Frank said. "And I don't know: had things worked out different, and we got together, maybe it would have been as disastrous as every other relationship I've had. As moody and socially backwards as I was, I don't doubt it."

  "But you'll never know for sure," Miles said, almost whispering.

  "If I could go back, and spare her that humiliation…" Frank said. "What kind of damage did that do to her self esteem?"

  "Maybe they all assumed you had no interest in dating outside your race," Miles suggested. "The same assumption you had made about her."

  Frank shrugged. "Were you here that night I showed Citizen Kane?"

  "Uh, yeah..." Miles said, unsure of the significance.

  "Remember, during the interviews trying to figure out who Rosebud was, the story the old man told?"

  Miles shook his head, baffled.

  "This old guy tells a story from half a century ago, when he was young: some girl he saw on a ferry or something. Never knew her name or spoke a word to her, but he could still picture her in his mind."

  "She wasn't colored," Miles said. "I'd have remembered that."

  "No, no, forget the racial thing for a minute," Frank said. "I guess the point is: Just don't be that guy."

  "Are you that guy?" Miles asked.

  Frank nodded. "That smile is gonna haunt me for the rest of my life, dude. I'll forever wonder what might have happened--if she might have turned out to be the one who was different. What if I'd offered my name in the cafeteria, or asked her something as simple as did she eat there every day, or any stupid thing to break the ice? What if I'd stopped to chat when she smiled at me? What if I just hadn't worried so much about the risk of rejection, compounded by the skin color difference, and seized the day? What if I'd put all my depression and anxiety aside, forgot about cramming for the test, and turned away from that staircase? What if; what if; what if?"

  Miles stared through the glass at the pool deck out back. "Yeah."

  Frank stood and stretched. "It's time for me to get to work."

  Miles stood, also. "Me too. Thanks, Frank."

  "Who's the girl, anyway?"

  "Her name's Shauna. She works in Customer Service."

  "A CSR?" Frank looked skeptical.

  "Trust me," Miles said, "she belongs in the call center about as much as we do."

  At the warehouse later, Jason Rumkis informed Miles that the transfer to Service would take place the next week. Rumkis didn't say as much, but Miles suspected the damage to customer property influenced Matt Berger to expedite him out of Installs.

  So much the better.

  Miles permanently stored Shauna's number in his Nextel, but he knew not to call her while she was working, unless it was workrelated. He got too busy that ni
ght to call her after she clocked out. The next day was same story; different chapter. Finally, just before his weekend started, he found his chance.

  "Hello?" Her voice seemed guarded.

  "Hi Shauna. It's Miles."

  "Oh. Hi."

  She didn't sound as glad to hear him as he'd hoped.

  "You're off work, aren't you?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Good. I thought I remembered right--you're Sunday-throughThursday, ten-to-seven, like me."

  "Yes I am. What's up?"

  She sounded cold and distant. As much as he'd coached himself not to second-guess, he now questioned the vibe he thought she'd given out during her ride-along.

  "Well, um, the transfer is finally going through. I report to Libra Street Sunday morning."

  "Congratulations," she said, politely.

  After a deafening silence, he said, "Well, okay. Just calling some of my friends to tell the good news."

  "That is good news," she said. "At least I hope so. Thanks for telling me."

  "You're welcome. Um, good-bye."

  Miles didn't know what to think about that exchange. 9

  The night after Shauna's ride-along with Miles, she met Celeste at Starbucks for some pre-shopping girl time. Celeste ordered a mocha latte while Shauna had her usual French Vanilla cappuccino.

  Celeste studied her friend closely. "Girlfriend, you are glowing. Tell me."

  Shauna shook her head and giggled. "It's nothing."

  "No, it's something. You better tell."

  "There's this guy I know at work," Shauna said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "He's really nice. I think we might be getting close."

  Celeste nodded her head so fast, her hair bounced. "How close?"

  "Nothing's happened. So far we've just talked. But the talking is great--really great. I think he likes me."

  "Do you like him?"

  Shauna smiled, looked around the store, then back at her friend and laughed, nodding.

  Celeste danced in place on her seat. "You go, girl!"

  Shauna recapped their day together, and mentioned the magical touching.

  "What is that?" Shauna asked. "When his skin touches mine...it's like when a roller coaster lifts you out of your seat for a second. Does it mean he likes me?"

  Celeste nodded. "Probably. It's a mutual attraction thang. His hormones, your pheromones...a whole lot of moans all mixed up in your future."

  Shauna fanned herself. "It's not just sexual."

  "That's good. And it's good the two of you can talk. That's really the most important thing."

  "He can make me laugh."

  Celeste stood and wiped her mouth with the paper napkin. "You used to laugh a lot, Shauna. I'm glad you're doing it again."

  Their next stop was the shoe store. Really, it would probably be their last stop, considering the pace Celeste shopped at.

  "What's his name?" Celeste asked, feeling the material on a pair of black pumps.

  "Miles."

  Celeste made a face. "That's so country."

  "But he's not," Shauna replied, examining a pair of red heels. "He was raised in the 'hood. But he's educated, and intelligent."

  "And he's got a steady job. Sounds like a brother with promise."

  Shauna turned from the heels to Celeste's face. Celeste felt the intensity of her gaze, then met it. "What?"

  "He's white."

  Celeste stared blankly for a moment, then took Shauna by the elbow and steered her out of the store.

  "A white boy?" Celeste whispered, standing on the sidewalk, well away from the door.

  "He's not a boy," Shauna said, not liking her friend's sudden change in demeanor. "He's a full grown man."

  "Shauna, what exactly has he said or done to make you think he's interested?"

  Shauna shrugged. "Aside from the way he touched me? I guess it's mostly just a feeling I get from him."

  Celeste chewed on her lip. "Has he called you since that night?"

  "No. But that would be kind of pushy, don't you think? I mean, aren't we always warning each other against men who move too fast?"

  Celeste chewed her lip some more.

  "Celeste, what's wrong? It's not a fetish, or anything. There's just an attraction, and we happen to be different colors."

  Celeste made an effort to smile. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're my best friend. I know how sensitive you are, and I don't want to see you hurt."

  Shauna put hands on hips. "Because he's white, he's going to hurt me? Tell me, will it hurt worse than Dwayne hurt me? 'Cause, don't forget, Dwayne was black."

  Celeste hooked her arm in Shauna's. "Come walk with me. Lose that attitude for a minute, all right?"

  They strolled across the parking lot, toward no obvious destination.

  "A relationship with a man is complicated," Celeste said. "We can agree on that, right?"

  Shauna nodded. "Granted."

  "OK. Now, mix a bunch of ethnic and racial differences in there, and it's twice as complicated."

  "Maybe you're right," Shauna conceded. "But so what? Maybe it could be worth all the complications."

  Celeste's mouth puckered up for a moment. "It could be." They walked on for a few more paces before she asked, "Are you sure about this?"

  "Of course I'm not sure," Shauna said. "Since when are we ever sure about anything? The times in my past when I thought I was sure, that's when I got myself in the biggest trouble." She tossed her braids to the side in irritation. "I don't understand why the big deal. I've never known you to be a bigot."

  Celeste sighed, and gripped her arm tighter. "I got my degree at Central. I never told you this, but my freshman year, I went to State."

  "OK," Shauna said, "so?"

  Celeste exhaled again, shaking her head slightly. "I had a crush on a white student at State."

  Shauna stopped in her tracks, turning to lock eyes with her friend. "What?"

  "Yup," Celeste said. "Straight hair, hazel eyes, no fashion sense whatsoever. White as white can be."

  "You never told me," Shauna said, still stunned.

  "It's a time I'd rather forget about," Celeste said, gazing back toward the shoe store.

  Shauna covered her mouth. "Tell me he didn't rape you!"

  "No. Nothing like that." She dug in her purse, pulled out some chewing gum, gave a piece to Shauna and popped one into her own mouth. "It was a year from hell. I was so naive. I didn't know anybody there, had no close friends, and the classes were too big and impersonal, I thought. I couldn't stand my roommate. She was so obnoxious, and inconsiderate, inviting her loud, drunken friends over to party almost every night--late at night. I was just out of my element, you know?"

  Shauna nodded, resting her hand on Celeste's arm to comfort her. "OK."

  "Then, to top it all off, I made a royal ass of myself over this guy."

  Shauna read her face carefully, sensing the sting of old pain rising to the surface. "What happened?"

  "I was an English major," Celeste said. "He was in another college--mass communications or liberal arts or something. Anyway, he did something with videos. That's where I first saw him--coming in and out of the rooms where they put video programs together. I could have sworn he was giving me the eye every time he passed by."

  "Not so unusual," Shauna said, winking. "You've always been almost as pretty as me." She wanted to lighten the mood somehow, and thought humor might do it.

  Celeste rolled her eyes, but went on. "Usually, when white men do that, alarm bells go off. But he didn't try anything, you know. He never seemed threatening. And after a while I noticed he was pretty cute, too." She ran fingers through her hair. "Well, to be honest, he was heart-attack-handsome. Anyway, we bumped into each other from time to time, but never really talked until one time in the cafeteria." She glanced around, as if ensuring nobody could overhear. "I don't know what it was about him, but girl, after that.--"

  "You were sprung," Shauna said.

  "And see, the thing is, I real
ly believed he was interested, too."

  "He wasn't?"

  Celeste sucked in her lower lip and shook her head. "He wouldn't initiate anything. I thought maybe he was just shy, so I took the initiative. I thought I felt chemistry between us. So, naive little schoolgirl that I was, I decided I should stick my neck way out on the block." Her voice caught. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I just made a total ass of myself."

  "He didn't even give you a chance?" Shauna asked.

  "Not only was he not interested in me," Celeste said, "I think he didn't even like black people."

  Shauna gave her a hug. Celeste patted her on the back, but pushed her away.

  "I'm so over that," Celeste said. "But I would rather forget that time in my life. And please don't ever repeat this to anyone, Shauna."

  "I won't tell anyone" Shauna promised.

  Shauna wouldn't ever repeat Celeste's story, but she thought about it a lot.

  Two days after the ride-along, Miles still hadn't called her.

  He had her phone number. Even if he didn't, he had her extension for the Call Center network. True, a guy shouldn't come on too strong at this uncertain stage...

  Don't start making excuses for him. That's a bad start.

  She had been so sure he was attracted to her. Just like Celeste had been sure. Signals, chemistry, rapport--it all seemed so important. Important enough to bank on. But not with white boys, evidently.

  Maybe Miles...and Celeste's college crush...were just between girlfriends, and looking for someone to plug a temporary gap in their sex lives. Cheap, meaningless sex. The any-old-port-in-a-storm syndrome. Then, when they found a paleface girl who would open her legs, the sista was left holding the baggage.

  Miles didn't seem like the type. But then players wouldn't get any play if girls knew they were dogs from jump.

  A carnival came to town, and set up shop across from the mall. Shauna planned to take Katina one evening after work. She hadn't anticipated Clarence would offer to take them.

  Clarence was not an outdoors-type person. Even if "outdoors" meant a well-lit urban area with public restrooms. She was touched by his offer and, remembering her suggestion that they remain friends, consented.

  Katina wore them out in record time. They retreated to a Dairy Queen just beyond the midway to eat and rest their feet.