by J. Nichole
Looking to Sarah and ignoring her friend, I say, “Keep me posted.” I grab my Physical Science book and turn a few pages. Not Professor Douglas, he wouldn’t do this.
“You may be keeping me posted. I hear the newspaper staff will be covering it this week.”
I snap my head around to look at Sarah. “We can’t write an article about one of our own.”
“If we avoided writing stories about people we are connected with the news wouldn’t be told.”
“You have a point.” Although the air is blasting, I feel like my armpits are soaked. Since coming back this semester I have been heavily involved with the L.U. newspaper. My articles have varied in importance from changes to the cafeteria menu to student grade-change scandals. But I’m not at all interested in reporting on Professor Douglas and an alleged assault.
The other girl sucks her teeth. “You sure are defensive. What’s that all about?”
“Professor Douglas has been a father-figure to me. I can always count on him to listen to my problems and offer sound advice.”
She rolls her head and continues scrolling on her computer.
When I walk into the front door of the apartment, I stop to take off my shoes and drop my umbrella. Monica looks at me and says, “You were probably the only one on campus in this hurricane rain.” She laughs. “Even I skipped class.”
Standing with my clothes sticking to me, I nod my head. “Campus was empty, but I had a test.” I hear talking coming from the back of the apartment. “Who is that?”
Monica puts her finger to her lips and whispers, “Jennifer has a dude here. A fine looking man at that.” She smiles.
My eyes stretch. "Good, hopefully, Jennifer is getting past the situation with her ex." Monica's phone rings and she looks at the screen. Groaning she puts the phone down. "I assume that was a do not answer.” I ease down beside her at the kitchen table.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s Collin. He calls every day. I’m tempted to tell him how old I am so he’ll leave me alone.”
“Dude from the classic? Wait. Did you see him before we left Atlanta?”
“Yes.” She looks away from me.
“And.”
“I gave him some loving. Big mistake.” She looks back at her phone. “This dude is talking about wanting to come visit and everything.”
"Back up a minute. When did you see Collin?"
“The night before we left. Everyone was asleep and I snuck out.”
Shaking my head, I look at Monica with a straight face. “You have to be careful. What if he was a psycho? You would have disappeared without a trace.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Monica says, “You’re right. I should have said something so someone could have talked me out of it.”
"If you never answer the phone he'll get the picture and stop calling… hopefully." Grabbing at my wet shirt, I stand up. "I should get out of these wet clothes before I get sick."
Before I can get to my door, I see Jennifer walking out of her room with her dude. She stops and introduces him. "Hey Laila, this is Steve." Steve is tall, and nothing but legs. He could use some cornbread, steak, and potatoes… hell anything to thicken him up a bit. I cut my eyes at Monica, who is trying to contain her laugh.
"Hello, Laila." His voice is high-pitched and sounds like he is stuck in puberty.
“Hey Steve.” I walk into my room and begin stripping out of my soaked clothes. Slipping on my robe, I hear my phone ding with a text message. I grab my phone and look at the screen.
Josh: Did you make it back safely?
Laila: I did. Did you?
My phone rings while I’m waiting for Josh to respond. It’s Chris.
“Hey babe.” He must have some sick sixth sense. He always knows when Josh is sniffing.
“I was missing you, but with this rain I didn’t think you’d come over. So I grabbed some dinner and I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Aw thanks, babe. I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up the phone and walk into the bathroom. My hair is a mess and I could use a shower. I turn on the shower and while I wait for the water to get warm I pull out a sundress.
The bathroom is steamy from the shower. I peel off my robe and step into the water. The water runs down my back and I lather up trying to hurry. I should delete those messages from Josh.
I hear a knock at the door and I rinse then step out of the shower. Instead of throwing on my dress I slip back into my robe. Chris is sitting on my bed and when he sees me he opens his arms wide. I step into his embrace. He pulls back and says, “Your phone has been going off.”
“Oh okay. What’d you bring for dinner?”
“I brought a few Chop boxes from Chubby’s. I figured your roommates might get hungry tonight too. I know how you ladies are about your hair and not getting wet.” He laughs.
“That’s sweet.” And my phone buzzes again.
I try to ignore it but Chris looks around the room. “You should probably get that.”
Walking over to my dresser, I grab my phone. One message from Josh, saying he made it home safely; then one message from the editor of the newspaper.
Evan: Call me when you get a minute. I need to talk to you about an article.
My heart starts to pound. I plop down beside Chris. “I need to call the editor of the newspaper.”
“Alright, need me to step out?”
"No, you're all right." I dial Evan's number. "Hey, Evan."
“Hey, Laila. Thanks for getting back to me. I’m sure you’ve heard about Professor Douglas.”
“Evan, we can’t cover that.”
“We have no choice, Laila. But that’s why I’m calling you. I know you have a good relationship with him and I know you won’t trash him in the article.”
“Do we have any details about the investigation?”
I look at Chris while I listen to Evan, and he is shaking his head.
“And when are we trying to print?”
“This week, Friday.” The least read of all the days.
“Alright, I’ll start working on it. Can you send me her info?”
“I’ll do that. And thanks, Laila.”
“Talk to you later.”
When I lower the phone I close my eyes. Dear God, help me through this week.
“That conversation seems like it was tough. You alright?”
Turning to look Chris in the eyes, I shrug my shoulders. “This will be the true test of my journalistic abilities.”
“What’s going on?”
I inhale deeply. “Professor Douglas is being investigated for sexual assault on a girl from the junior class.”
“The Dr. Douglas that you are always visiting?” He narrows his eyes. “From what you’ve said, doesn’t seem like he would do anything like that.”
“I don’t believe it. And I don’t want to give it any credit by covering it.”
Chris tugs at the slit in my robe, exposing my titty. "You're right. It will test your will as a journalist." Kissing my chest he says, "But this is what you want. You can do it, and do it well."
Chris lays me back on the bed and plants kisses all over my neck. I reach up and lock my door, then turn to him and return his kisses.
“How can I resist you with your body half concealed by this thin robe?” Thunder roars as the rain pounds against the window. “And this rain just adds to the mood.”
Smiling as Chris turns me over, massaging my shoulders. I could get used to this. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you but if this robe is all it takes to turn you on I need to wear it more often.”
“Your shoulders are a bit tense.” He glides his hand down my back and between my thighs. “I know just what you need to release this stress.”
“Is that right?”
“But we don’t need your roommates hearing you as it’s released.” Feeling around the bed Chris grabs my phone. “Here let’s turn on some music.” He fumbles with my phone then says, “You have a text from Josh.”
Shit.
“Hmm.” He hands me my phone. “How about some R. Kelly.”
With Chris looking over my shoulder I unlock my phone and open the Pandora app. LSG’s My Body starts playing. Not quite R. Kelly but hopefully it will take Chris’ mind off of Josh’s text message.
Chris lies beside me. “The thought of you being with someone else drives me crazy.”
“Now you know exactly how I felt when I saw you dancing with that chick in Atlanta.” Resting on my elbow, I stare at Chris. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want anyone else.”
"I promise never to make you feel like that again."
With my pinky in the air I say, “Pinky promise?”
Laughing, Chris puts two fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
Locking lips, I straddle Chris with every intention of showing him he’s my one and only. It only takes a few seconds for my body to respond. I can feel the moisture filling my panties. I crawl off of Chris and walk to my dresser in search of a condom.
Chris sits up. “What are you looking for?”
Shuffling my clothes around, I mumble, “A condom.”
"I got you, babe." I scoot back to the bed as he reaches into his pocket for the condom. "One day we won't need these."
With my brows arched I say, “We’ll have to be married for that to happen.”
Chris smiles. “Like I said… one day we won’t need these.” After Chris takes off his pants and rolls on the condom I remount him, easing down inch by inch.
Riding him until my legs feel weak I flip over on my back and pull Chris on top of me. His intensity is felt with each thrust. Almost as if nature is in agreement, thunder breaks through as my back arches and I scream out, “Yes!” As I lie motionless, Chris smiles gently while he slowly continues to stroke, letting me rest for a few seconds before he pounds into me again. Then his body quivers and he collapses beside me.
With my eyes closed, I imagine what life would be like as Mrs. Clark.
Chapter Seven
Walking into Up Late Cafe, I scan the room for the curly top girl with a tan complexion. In a corner, with her head down, I think I spot Kim. As I approach her table she lifts her head, and her puffy eyes do not complement her make-up-free face. Much different from her Facebook pictures. Before meeting with Kim today I had to do my research. I checked out all her social networks, talked to a few of her friends, and even one of her professors.
She seems like a credible source, but I still can’t believe her accusations against Professor Douglas are true. With my hand on the seat across from her I say, “Hi, Kim?” She slowly nods her head and I sit down.
“Thanks for meeting with me today.” As I look around us to see who is within earshot, I lower my voice and say, “Have you been crying?”
In a soft whisper, she responds, “I’ve been crying every day since the incident.” Looking down at her books, she continues, “I’m not the one to make noise. I usually fly under the radar. But I just can’t let this one ride.” She looks up at me as a few tears trickle down her cheek.
“I understand. If you don’t mind, let’s start from the beginning.”
“It was a few weeks ago. I was in his office to speak to him about one of my assignments. I’m an English major with a minor in Journalism. Writing just flows for me, but picking article topics isn’t as easy.” As she talks I write down notes but I can’t shake the feeling I have that she may be telling the truth.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been in his office late at night but I had just finished my evening class and wanted to start on his assignment when I got home.” She shakes her head and closes her eyes as if she is recounting the exact details of the night. “We talked about potential article topics, and out of nowhere, he told me I reminded him of his wife when they were in college.”
I lay down my pen and looked up at Kim. The one reason I thought he wouldn’t do something like this… his wife.
“I ignored the comment and thanked him for his time.” Kim’s voice begins to crack.
"Do you need a drink?" She looks to the coffee stand and then nods her head. Grabbing my wallet I walk over to the line.
The guys in front of me order their caffeinated beverages and move out of the way. “I’ll take two medium sweet teas.” Late night study sessions still haven’t turned me into a coffee drinker.
Handing Kim her sweet tea she smiles warmly and says, “Thank you.” The thank you seems to be for more than the drink.
“No worries. Just continue when you’re ready.”
After a few sips, Kim continues. “I stood to leave his office and felt his hand on my back. When I turned around he was too close for comfort. His hand fell lower and he…” My eyes squint as she pauses. “I don’t even know what to call it but he basically groped my butt. When I tried to back away he pulled me into him. I would have thought it was all a mistake until I was close enough to feel his erection on my thigh. Then he kissed my neck.”
My professionalism goes out the door as my mouth hangs open. I softly whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
“I struggled out of his arms and ran out of the door. I could hear him yell my name but he didn’t come after me.” She shakes her head. “By the time I made it to my apartment I was a mess.”
“Did you tell anyone or call the cops?” As I focus on her facial features I try to recall the picture of Mrs. Douglas in his office.
“No, I didn’t call the cops. I should have. But like I said, I’m not one to cause any drama. When my roommates finally made it home, I told them what happened and they insisted…well demanded that I call the cops.”
“Thank you for sharing. I’m sure this process won’t get any easier but if it’s any consolation, I believe you.”
Kim releases a soft sigh and a small smile warms her face.
“I will attempt to get Dr. Douglas’ perspective, but he may not say much because of the investigation. The article should be out on Friday.” Gathering my notebook I stand, but before walking away I lean over and hug Kim. “Take care.”
Kim’s body feels weak in my embrace. Before I let go, she says, “Thank you, Laila. Thank you for believing me.”
Leaving Up Late Cafe, I walk towards the Journalism building. With each step I contemplate my next action. I have to tell Evan this girl is telling the truth. The story replays in my head and as I hear Kim say ‘you remind me of my wife in college' a picture of Mrs. Douglas pops into my head. I close my eyes tightly to try to erase the image. Their resemblance is scary.
Students push past me as I slowly walk the hall. Instead of finding Evan, I walk directly into Dr. Douglas’ office. Not even knocking. I find him behind his desk, packing a box. “Ms. Jackson, how are yuh?” He looks at me with caution.
“Dr. Douglas, I don’t know where to start.”
“Evan has already told me about the article and that he assigned you to write it.” He places a few books into the box. “Yuh have a bright future ahead of yuh, and I have taught yuh to be a great journalist.”
With my hands crossed over my chest, I interrupt. “This is a test of my desire to be a writer. I have to write the truth as I know it.”
“Yuh do, dear. On the record, I cannot give you any details.” He signals me to take a seat. “But as one of my dearest students I do owe yuh an explanation.”
Taking a seat, I say, “Dr. Douglas, don’t tell me anything. I’ve seen your wife’s picture displayed proudly on your desk for the past year.”
With his eyes downcast, he takes a seat. “I’m losing everything. Today is my last day.” With his shoulders slumped he says, “I’ve lost my wife, my health…”
Standing, I say, “You were a great professor, Dr. Douglas and I’ll always remember that.” I walk out of his office quicker than I entered.
The walk to my geography class is somber. I'm tempted to run to my car and head home, but instead, I keep walking. My phone ring
s, but the thoughts swarming in my head are too dark to talk to anyone right now.
Taking a seat at my desk I reach for my phone to text Evan and a few missed calls from my brother display on the screen. As I open up the messaging app, a text from Nick pops up.
Nick: It’s important. Call me.
As the professor stands in front of the class, I grab my bag and quickly exit to the hall.
My fingers begin to shake as I press Nick’s name and the phone begins to ring.
“Laila, thanks for calling back. It’s grandma.”
Before he can continue, tears start rolling down my cheeks. “What is it?”
“She passed away this morning.”
I lean against the wall to brace myself. “Dammit. Is mom okay?”
Nick sighs, and then says, “Dad says she hasn’t said a single word since Aunt Janet called and told her the news.”
“I’m coming home.”
"Wait, Laila. That's a bad idea. I'm not sure when the funeral will be. Stay put till I give you more details."
“Okay. Call me as soon as you know something.” What a day. Looking at the classroom door I decide against going back. With my head hanging low, I walk to my car.
“I’m glad you made it home safely.” Chris’ voice is comforting. “Wish you would have let me drive you.”
“I couldn’t let you skip your exam. I do appreciate your offer though.”
“How’s your mom?”
“She has been keeping herself busy. I think she is in denial.”
“What about you, Laila? You don’t seem as emotional as I would have imagined.”
“You’re right. We didn’t have the best relationship.” My grandmother didn’t believe in the purpose of Historically Black Colleges. She didn’t understand why there was a need for me to segregate myself from non-black people. She didn’t understand the desire for me to be engulfed in our culture.
“Sorry to hear that.”