ACT TWO – Episode XII

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever knooown/ Was like a kiss on the, collarbone/ the soft caress of hap-pi-ness/ the way you walk, your/ style of dress…”

Imagine that the guy you’ve had a crush on for a while confesses to you that he feels the same way. Imagine that with you, he’s the perfect gentleman and a complete contradiction to everything you thought he was, or perhaps, to what everyone else said he was. Imagine that he treats you like a queen. Literally. That he flies you down to his hometown – and first class, at that – to meet his parents and spend the weekend with him. People say that when something is too good to be true, it usually is. As I’m riding in the passenger seat of this car, my eyes taking in all of the downtown area of Dallas, Texas, in its full glory as Lauryn Hill’s song “The Sweetest Thing” plays in the background, it seems like for me, the dream is really real.

It’s Saturday morning, the first real day of Spring Break for Georgia State University students. Some students have headed home for family time and home cooking. Others are off on Spring Break trips with their friends. But all of us are more than thankful to be done with midterms and to have reached the halfway point of the semester. And I, of course, am spending the next couple of days with my baby and his family… perhaps because I know I can’t go home to my own family.

Koral was angry with me. She had expected me to hold true to my word and come back to Houston for Spring Break. I’d told her after my last final on Thursday about my alternative plans.

“Noooo! Kandyce, that’s not fair!” she’d whined.

“I know, I know,” I’d tried to sympathize. “And I’m sorry, little sister. I would have come, but some friends planned out this last minute road trip to Dallas.”

“To Dallas?! ‘Ratchet City’ Dallas?” I’d chuckled a bit at Koral’s phrase.

“I mean, I’m hoping we’ll avoid the ratchet parts. But I guess we’ll see.”

“But, Kandyceee! What about me? What about Dad wanting to see you?”

“Dad doesn’t want to see me,” I had said, as much to her as to myself.

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

“Koral, you don’t understand.”

“But I do, Kandyce!” she tried to reassure me. “I do know why you don’t want to come back, but that’s not important right now, okay? You don’t want to come home because of Mom. I know Mom can be downright evil to you sometimes, Kandle, but that shouldn’t stop from coming to see me and Dad.” To an extent, Koral had had a point. Being able to see the two of them would easily offset any negativity Iris might throw my way. But I was still scarred from last summer, and neither my pride nor my heart would let me move past that.

“I’m sorry, Koral,” I’d told her. “I want to, but right now, I just can’t. I’ll come visit soon, though, I promise.” Koral had mumbled, “You always say that,” and I could hear the disappointment in her voice. It broke my heart a little bit just recalling our conversation. Koral couldn’t understand. She’d never gone through what I’d gone through. Iris would never have done to her what she did to me…

“I get mad when you walk away/ So I tell you leave/ when I mean stay…”

Lauryn Hill’s painfully joyful wail brought me back to reality before I could spiral back into the depression of that moment last summer at the dinner table. I blinked back a tear that threatened to fall from my left eye.

“K?” I looked over at Graham in the driver’s seat, took in the concerned look in his eyes and the way his lips twisted in the way they always were when something was bothering him. “You alright over there, babe?” I couldn’t help smiling at him.

“I’m good,” I told him. “Really, I am. Just thinking.”

“About?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as if to confirm he’d been asking a question, although now he’d returned his attention to the road.

“A few things.”

“Like?” he prodded. He’s really not going to let me make it, I thought to myself. In my mind, I grappled for a topic that might be distracting enough. I drew nothing. Damn you, brain! You chose the perfect time to quit on me…

“Back home,” tumbled out from between my lips. I cursed myself in my mind, but Graham merely looked over at me and nodded before returning his attention to the road.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked after a minute. I shook my head silently. If I started talking about home, then I’d go on forever. And then I’d eventually my rambling would run into last summer, and then I’d be forced to tell Graham the truth about the Creamy Peaches… which I still hadn’t done. Besides, I didn’t want to ruin the mood or put a damper on all he’d done for me. When my plane had touched down at in Atlanta just over forty minutes ago, he’d been waiting there to pick me up in this beautiful dark grey Range Rover that I was riding in now. I didn’t want to ruin that. We sat there in quietly for a few moments, Graham driving and me observing the rest of the city as Lauryn continued to pour out of the Range’s speakers.

“… Speaking on my mo-ther’s phone/ The touch that makes me/ Think I’m grown (You ain’t grown)/ Sweet prince of the ghetto/ Your kisses taste like amaretto…”

“I feel you on the home situation, though,” Graham suddenly interrupted the silence again. “Sometimes your family annoys the hell out of you. You love them and all, but they do crazy shit that pushes you away.”

“That’s about right,” I replied softly.

“But honestly, Kandyce,” Graham continued, “you can’t run away from home forever. We all have something in our past that we’d like to hide, that we don’t want anyone to know about and that we don’t particularly care to share. Sooner or later, you have to confront that, though. You don’t have to like it, but it made you who you are. You can sit there forever thinking about what happened and what you could have done differently, but that’s not going to change anything. Why spend time being defined and ruled by what you can’t change, right?”

G-Dot was right. There was nothing I could now that would take back what had happened between Iris and I, between my father and I, last summer. Only Stokely knew the whole story. I hadn’t even told Clarity about it because it was so personal. But maybe it was time to let that burden go. Graham had made it so easy to just talk to him and let my guard and my worries down around him, I thought. Could I open up to him about this one, too?

“We’re here.” I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized the car had stopped. I blinked a few times to come back to reality. As Graham got out of the car and walked around to my side, I sighed deeply. Well, I guess I have more time.

My eyes took in the fountain that was directly in front of where Graham had parked the Range Rover in the circular gravel driveway. They traveled past the fountain to a towering, Georgian-style brick house with marble columns on a long front porch. It had all the makings of one of those “estates” one might see on TV. The sight was absolutely breathtaking. Graham opened my door and extended a hand to help me out of the car.

“Eh, it’s alright,” Graham said, as if he’d caught sight of the awed expression on my face. “The inside looks a lot better, though. Shall we?” I placed my hand in his, stepped out of the Range Rover, and let him lead me up to the front doors.

***

I looked back through my basket again, trying to make sure I had everything I needed before I proceeded up to the checkout lines. Tilapia? Check. Wine? Check. Strawberries and peaches? Check. Vegetables? Vegetables? I moved around the items in the basket, even lifting out the box of Lucky Charms, trying to find the canned goods that apparently weren’t there at all. Damn. No vegetables. Begrudgingly, I headed back towards the grocery section of the store. I had already been in Wal-Mart long enough; I had come in here for groceries and somehow the Spike Lee movie Inside Man and a nice satin robe and found their way into my basket. Now that I was going back into the shopping area, I just KNEW something else was going to catch my eye that didn’t really need, but that I would easily talk myself into buying because it was “a steal” or “it’ll never be this cheap again.” It never failed in Wal-Mart.

Keeping my eyes on the basket and only glancing up to catch the names on the signs above each section, I hastily turned onto the canned goods aisle and navigated between the other shoppers on the aisle to get to the vegetables. I pulled down a can of sweet peas and a can of beets. My eye fell on the canned fruits further down the aisle. A six-pack of applesauce for $1.29?! Wait, wait. Stay focused, Clare, I told myself. Stay focused! In an effort to avoid further distractions, I decided to just get fresh carrots from the produce section. From there, I made a beeline straight to the registers.

“Ah, shit!” I had actually intended for that to be said IN my head, but what I saw at the registers caused me to say it aloud. It was just my usual luck that the registers, even the self-checkout ones, were all pretty much packed, even though it was the Monday of Spring Break. Not to mention, two people had baskets full of stuff on the damn express lines. That annoyed the hell out of me. You have like a month’s worth of groceries in your basket on the express lane. Did it just not click or did you just blatantly ignore the sign above the register that said “Ten items or less?” The incredulous expression on one of the cashier girls’ faces when she finished one order and turned back to see all those items on her belt – not to mention that the customer was STILL loading stuff onto it – said it all. Selfish bastards, I thought to myself as I sighed deeply and proceeded to one of the regular checkout lines.

“Clarity?!” The voice that had called out behind me had that tone in it of uncertain familiarity, of someone who was guessing but hoping the other person was who they thought they were. I turned my head slightly to the side. I was trying to see who was trying to get my attention out of the corner of my eye, just to ensure the person wasn’t someone whose attention I didn’t want, but it didn’t work. Please, Lord, I pleaded in my head. Please don’t let it be somebody I don’t like. Today is not the day. I turned around and almost jumped when I saw who it was.

“Wow!” the chocolate-complexioned girl exclaimed. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” She made a motion like she wanted to hug me, but then backed away as though she’d changed her mind. That was probably a good idea on her part, since the last time I’d seen her, we hadn’t exactly parted on amicable terms. She did extend a hand out to me, though, and I shook it.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time,” I admitted. “How’ve you been, Josephine?”

“Oh, please, call me Joey. You already know the drill, Clarity.” Josephine Gordon – “Joey” to those who knew her and as I once knew her – was this beautiful girl who had established quite a legacy on campus during her time at Georgia State University. Back during my freshman year, Joey had been Student Government vice-president, the first Black girl to be elected to that position since 1991. She’d fought hard to get more administrative budget money allocated to underrepresented student programs and departments, like OAASS&P and the Intercultural Relations Program. Joey had also been selected as an “Inceptor,” one of the people who work with New Student Orientation for incoming freshmen over the summer. But perhaps most importantly, Joey had been President of-

“What are you still doing around here, anyway?” Joey asked, interrupting my train of thought. “Didn’t you graduate?”

“This May,” I corrected her.

“Really? Wow, that’s awesome! I’m proud of you.” A wide smile spread across Joey’s face. “You’ve come a really long way. The only reason I asked was because I remember, back in the day, you were on track to graduate a year early.” She was right: back in my first two years, I had plowed through things academically. Before the drama popped off, I might well have finished and gotten my degree last May.

“What are you still doing here?” I asked. “You did graduate, right?”

“Yep, yep!” she piped up. “I finished up last May. I’m up at Georgia doing graduate school.”

“In what?”

“Student affairs. Couldn’t leave the game alone.”

“That makes sense,” I admitted. “You did put a lot into student life at GSU. I could see you being an administrator or some sort.”

“Thanks,” Joey replied, the smile stretching even further across her face. “Hey, listen, umm… the reason I asked about your graduation was because…” She trailed off for a minute. I could tell she was trying to find the right words to say. I knew it, I thought. I knew it was just a matter of time before she’d be compelled to bring it up.

“It’s fine,” I told her, getting a little anxious now and looking back at the register. Still one more big order before mine. Damn it.

“No, it’s not,” Joey started. “I’ve felt really, really guilty about what happened back then. I want you to know that I DID fight for you, and it wasn’t just me. But the majority of my sisters were more concerned with perception at the time.”

“Yes, because perception is everything, isn’t it?”

“I deserve that,” Joey replied, nodding solemnly as the wide smile on her face faded away. “We deserve that. At the time, we did what we felt was right, Clarity. You have to understand, we had a reputation and a standard to uphold. That standard would have been threatened if we had-“

“No, it would not have,” I cut her off. “That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard. Josephine, you KNEW me. I looked up to you. Yes, I made poor choices. Who doesn’t? Everybody in your organization has done something they’re not proud of. But you knew in your mind and heart that I wasn’t some ho. You say you fought for me. Apparently, you didn’t fight hard enough.” Before I knew it, tears had welled up in my eyes. I thought I had forgotten about this, I told myself. I thought I had locked this away. I blinked back my years, but was unable to contain a sniffle. Joey put a consoling hand on my shoulder.

“Look,” she began. “In retrospect, what we should have done, what I should have done, was looked into things more. You’re right. I knew you were better than that. Organizations come and go, and so do the people in them. But I’ve always felt you got screwed over. I, umm… I work with the graduate and alumni chapter of Zeta Phi Beta at Georgia. After May, if you want to talk, give me a call.” Joey opened up her purse, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. “Even if you don’t want to talk, give me a call anyway. I’d want to be there for your graduation.”

I stared at the business card for a moment before looking back up at Joey. She smiled at me again, then walked away. By that time, it was my turn at the register. I watched the cashier ring up my items, saw his lips moving to ask if I found everything okay; but I didn’t hear anything. I saw myself swipe my credit card, carry my bags out of Wal-Mart to the car, but it was like it wasn’t me doing it. It was like I was outside of myself watching everything happen in front of me like a movie, like I was both the actor and the audience.

When I got inside my car, I was myself again. I pulled out Josephine’s business card and looked at it once more. I thought I had locked this away, I thought again. But just talking about it with Joey made me realize that even though I had locked the memory away, the emotions behind it were still very fresh and very raw. You can tell yourself you’ve forgotten about something and it works for so long. But when you’re standing face to face with it, there’s no telling how you’ll react. I was crying. Crying in the got damn car about something I thought I’d long left behind. Crying because of some stupid sorority that hadn’t given a fuck about me back when I was looking for support. No. Scratch that. I was crying because I was remembering the events that led up to that, that cost me everything I had worked so hard for back then. I needed someone to talk to. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I thought I had forgotten.

“Hello?” A deep male voice answered on the third ring.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted, clearing my throat. “Is… is Ms. Pickens there?”

ACT TWO – Episode XI

“Oh, God, Graham, that feels so good, baby. Damn…”

“Tell me when to stop.”

“Hmm. Never.” She laughed softly, then sighed contentedly. I continued massaging her feet, kneading her heels with my thumbs. Really, I was just buying time for the question that needed to be answered… and the more important one that needed to be asked.

It was now 12:15 AM. Kandyce had been at my apartment for nearly three hours. She’d come through at about 9:30, which was pure luck considering that I’d had an unexpected visitor an hour earlier. I’ll be honest: maybe, just maybe, I had asked for it, but I promise my intentions were all good.

At 8:30 PM, the doorbell to my apartment had rung. I’d dimmed the lights, lit the candles on the dining room table, and prepared to greet my baby. And then I looked in the peephole and saw someone who was definitely NOT my baby. It had been Wendy. After the big incident on Tuesday between Kandyce and Roxie, I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I needed to do something. Kandyce wasn’t answering my calls. Stokely for damn sure I couldn’t talk to, and besides, I had needed a female opinion, anyway. So I went to my one last lifeline.

“Thought you said you were losing this number?” Wendy had asked, chuckling to herself on the other end of the line. I had deleted her number out of my phone; but somehow, I’d also memorized it.

“I had intended to,” I told her. “But I need a favor. Something popped off.” I proceeded to explain to Wendy what had transpired between Kandyce and Roxie. In typical Wendy fashion, I heard her make various kinds of “gasps” as I told the story, but she never once interrupted me.

“Damn, baby,” she’d said when I finally finished. “This is why you’re not supposed to shit where you eat. Or at least, why you should be careful when you decide to eat in one place having dumped all over. I warned you that something like this might happen. But at least it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“True. Well, what do I do now?” That was the real reason I’d called Wendy: because I knew she would be able to give me a good “make-up plan” for Kandyce. Wendy may have been in my circle, but if you were to consider her a “sideline chick,” she certainly was the one most eligible for someone’s main benefits. It was as though she had accepted her place in the circle of life, but was fully aware she could and would occupy the place she deserved.

She told me to cook for Kandyce in an intimate setting, which I did. She told me to basically pamper and treat Kandyce well, which I did. She told me to not bring up the incident, so that Kandyce would never get the impression that I was doing what I was doing to save face; I followed those instructions too. But I didn’t expect on Wendy implementing herself into that plan, showing up right on my doorstep as though SHE was the one I was doing this for.

“What are you doing here?” I’d asked her when she showed up earlier, and she’d smiled an innocent smile at me.

“I just wanted to see what you came up with. She’s not here already, is she?”

“No.”

“Well then… let me in,” Wendy had insisted. “Please.” Feeling guilty because she HAD helped me plan things out, I let her come in. She stayed around a good twenty minutes assessing everything and I mean EVERYTHING: the candles (“Red, huh? Oh, yeah, she is a Delta, isn’t she?”); the wine I’d chosen for the occasion (“Ooh, this ain’t the Wal-Mart brand, either! I see you, baby…”); and even my massage oil (“Uh-oh. Ebony Fire? Is that the stuff we used to… never mind,” which she followed with a laugh).

“Don’t worry, I know you’re expecting company,” she’d said when it seemed her inspection had come to an end. “The only reason I’m still here, is because I’m pretty sure Kandy’s going to be a little late.”

“Her name is Kandyce,” I’d corrected her and Wendy has smiled that innocent smile of hers again.

“Damn, I gotta get her name EXACTLY right, huh? She has you sprung like that, Graham?” She laughed that sweet laugh that I once loved to hear. “Well, on that note, I’ll make my exit. Don’t worry. I’m not going to cause any trouble or problems or anything like that. I just wanted to see what you had come up with. You did a good job. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” Then Wendy kissed me on the cheek and left my apartment. My paranoid ass waited a few minutes, then peeked outside to make sure Wendy’s car was gone; it was. Then I’d washed my face quickly, scrubbing hard over the cheek Wendy kissed, and waited for Kandyce to come.

Kandyce had showed up exhausted and a bit stressed out. But she seemed to enjoy my rosemary baked chicken and “dirty” rice and vegetables. We’d caught up a bit on midterms, Kandyce noting the one she had Thursday in Professor Williams’ class. And eventually, we got to where we now were: her spread across my couch, her feet in my lap as I massaged first one then the other, D’Angelo’s Voodoo album playing softly from the stereo in the living room. The night had gone almost perfectly, I thought.

“Graham?” Got damn it. Spoke too soon.

“Yep, babe?” I asked. Kandyce raised her head slowly and looked up at me. Knowing we were about to talk, I started to take my hands away from her feet, but she said, “No, no, don’t stop. Keep doing what you’re doing.” She laughed softly before continuing.

“Baby, this was really nice. The candlelit dinner… the massage… was there any reason for you doing this?”

“I need a reason to make my lady feel special?” I asked her. Kandyce grinned at that.

“Alright, Rico Suave,” she replied. “No, but seriously… okay, I’ll just put it out there. While I’m enjoying this, I’m kind of feeling like this whole thing was done in response to what happened yesterday between me and that stupid girl, Maxine.” I bit down on my tongue and barely stopped myself from saying “Roxie” out loud.

“I fought with her,” she continued, “and you pulled her away. But the reason we were fighting is because she basically implied that… you know… the two of you may have still been doing something. Which I KNOW couldn’t be true, because you and me are doing us. Right?”

“Right,” I replied without hesitation. Kandyce fixed her eyes upon mine. The intensity of those green eyes seemed to have something extra in them now, something almost questioning. I watched as her lips moved but her mouth refused to open, watched as she seemed to fight with herself on whether or not to say something more.

“Are you sure?” Kandyce had asked that without looking at me. It was a dead giveaway. She hadn’t wanted to ask the question because she knew it made her look like she didn’t trust me. Ordinarily, a question like that would have annoyed me. Ordinarily, a question like that meant the following day, you would instantly mean nothing to me. But Kandyce was my lady, and I knew where her motives were coming from. I let her slide.

“I’m positive. Kandyce, I told you. I have a past, I can’t deny that. I warned you that some of the girls I messed with in the past, just because of who I am and what we have, might try to be messy. I talked to Roxie a long, LONG time ago, that’s it. I’m with you for a reason, Kandyce. I told you before, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. And even if I did something to hurt you accidentally, I would do everything and anything to make up for that. I care about you.” I leaned over, placed a finger under her chin, and lifted her head up so that she was looking right at me. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Kandyce replied. “I just want us to be able to trust each other.”

“I trust you,” I assured her. “Do you trust me?” She nodded. “Good. Because I want to ask you something.” She perked up again. “I know we’ve only been ‘official’ for a minute, but if you aren’t doing anything for Spring Break…” I took a deep breath, reached back behind the cushion that Kandyce was laying back on, and pulled out a small brown envelope. I held it out to her, watched as she pulled out the plane ticket. When she looked back up at me with wide eyes and dropped jaw, I took that as my cue.

“I want you to meet my folks, Kandyce. Would you do me the honor of spending some of your Spring Break with me and my family? I know you probably want to visit your own fam, too, and I know your birthday is next Friday, so it would just be from like this Saturday to next Tuesday. But I would really appreciate your company, and I‘m sure my parents would, too.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That million dollar smile of hers stretched across her face.

“I would love to, G. Dot,” she said. She practically hopped over and tackled me in a hug, kissed me deeply and passionately. We almost started something, but I reminded Kandyce that she had a midterm in the morning and I didn’t want to lay her out so bad that she ended up sleeping through it. So instead, we just stretched out together on that couch, her wrapped in my arms, just enjoying the music and each other’s presence.

“Ah, Graham, I LOVE this song,” she suddenly exclaimed. “Turn it up, please, baby.”

“… And I, hope you under-stand me/ Every word, I say is true/’Cause I loooooove you/ Baby/ I’m thinkin’ bout you/ Tryin’ to be more, of a man for you/ And I-I/ don’t have much of riches/ But we gon-na see it through…”

Kandyce and I softly sang along with the song, Lenny Williams’ classic track, “’Cause I Love You.” At one point, I realized that I was the only one singing; I looked down and saw that Kandyce was asleep. I took in her peaceful expression, watched her eyelids flutter slightly and her lips move lightly, and I couldn’t help wondering what she may have been dreaming about. I deserve her, I thought. Suddenly, my mind took me back to Friday, to that night in the McDonald’s parking lot.

“So what’s up with it, Graham? Y’all wanna play with us?”

I remembered hesitating. I remembered weighing Roxy versus Kandyce, a quickie versus a broken heart. I had been afraid of what words would spill out of my mouth. And then I remembered Lloyd. He’d reached a hand out around my shoulder and pulled me in close to him. I’d looked at him like he was crazy, and he had winked at me.

“Nah, baby girl. I think me and Graham baby gon’ be alright just by ourselves.” He’d winked at Roxie, too, after saying that. The confusion that was going on in Roxie’s face, had been just as present inside my head at the time. She’d looked from Lloyd to me, then back at Lloyd.

“No fuckin’ way… Y’all niggas gay or some shit?!”

“Honey, we cannot be classified, o-kay?! Some days we like women, some days we like each other. And tonight is just not your night, baby girl!” Lloyd had played that shit up and the expression on Roxy’s face was both priceless and embarrassing for me. It took a whole fifteen seconds for her to recover and even then, she didn’t even say anything; she just walked back to the SUV. The minute they’d drove off, Lloyd pulled away from me.

“That’s the shit I warned you about. Chicks know the game, too. The nut will betray your ass, Graham, trust. Don’t EVER get distracted like that again, my nigga. EVER. You’re lucky I was here for you tonight…”

I replayed that whole scenario from Friday as I looked down at Kandyce sleeping. I admit, I slipped up. Every dude does at one point. I was disappointed that I had allowed myself to get distracted for a minute. But at least nothing had happened; and I was certain that, after that whole incident with Roxie and especially after the fight Kandyce had had with her, something like that would never happen again. Not on my watch. Most people you can’t trust, but you should never get put in a position where you don’t trust yourself. That’s another Graham-ism. If I really deserved Kandyce, the woman I was literally going to be taking home to my mama, then she deserved for me to be focused and not distracted. And focused, I was DEFINITELY going to be.

ACT TWO – Episode X

** Disclaimer: Okay… so… the ‘big announcement’ I had planned for Kandy Reign may be postponed since it seems I’m climbing out of my writer’s block. I will keep y’all posted. Also, this episode is dedicated to two of my very faithful readers: Alondra Robinson and Aisha ‘Rudy’ Begum, both of whom celebrated birthdays earlier this month! I promised I’d dedicate an episode to them and I try to be a man of my word. Hopefully this is a worthy enough late present lol.

Without further adieu… Kandy ‘X’!!!
—–

“I can’t make it tonight,” I told Lloyd over the phone. It was Wednesday evening, just a day after that incident between Kandyce and Roxie.

“What?!” Lloyd replied. “Why can’t you? Dawg… this is the final stretch. It’s just this, then the week after Spring Break, then our work for the most part is done. Then we just have to prepare them niggas for the coming-out party. Suffice to say, your presence is gotdamn mandatory these next two weeks.” I scrambled for an effective excuse.

“But Lloyd-“ I stopped to fake a cough. “Can’t you hear me, bro? I’m sick.”

“Bullshit. Has anyone ever told you how horrible of a liar you are? I used that same cough to get excused from a final last semester. Shit… I TAUGHT you that cough!” Damn! I thought. I tried to regroup, but Lloyd stopped me before I could say anything.

“And don’t even think about pulling that ‘I had a death in the family’ card. Not gon’ work.” Against my better judgment, I sighed, giving myself away in the process.

“Okay, fine,” I said in concession. “You want to know what’s really going on?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I’m trying to do something nice for Kandyce tonight, to make up a bit for what happened Tuesday.”

“Ah, okay, I see, I see,” Lloyd replied. “Wait, rewind that. To ‘make up a bit?’ Kandyce went off on you that bad?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” I assured him. “it’s just… Well, I’m hoping to get an opportunity to clear up some things and just make sure we’re all good. Proactive damage control.”

“‘Proactive damage control,’ huh?” he repeated. “Man…” He trailed off and I could tell Lloyd was thinking it over. I had wanted Lloyd to just be like, “Okay, I understand, that’s cool.” But Lloyd really did take Kappa personally.

Ever since he had brought me in my freshman year as the membership intake chair, Lloyd had always been very passionate about the organization. Everybody who is Greek “loves the frat” or “loves their sisters” and takes pride in their letters and their organization, without question. Lloyd took that a step further: he never took nor wanted us to consider for membership people who had poor grades or weren’t involved in GSU’s Black community in some way. When you became a part of the GSU chapter of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Incorporated, you earned your keep and you put a lot of work into the chapter. Lloyd wouldn’t let you pledge, assign you to stuff your “neo,” or first, year, and then we’d only see you at the parties for the rest of your time on campus. Instead, you were as active as you were “visible”: you took part in membership intake, you took part in community service, and you were always responsible for doing something to make the frat better.

That integrity and work ethic of Lloyd’s, the who he was and what he did, was always overshadowed by people’s perceptions of the organization. But Lloyd wasn’t just a hard worker. Much more importantly, Lloyd had always bailed me out. He’d bailed me out Friday, and some time before then, he’d helped me build myself back up when I thought I was quite broken. I was definitely hoping he’d bail me out here, too.

“Fine,” he mumbled into the phone, and I let out a sigh of relief. “BUT this just means that I’m going to be on your ASS about not missing anything else. This is the most crucial time of all, Graham.”

“I know, I know,” I assured him. “I’ll make it out every night from now on.”

“Alright then, Graham. Handle your business with your girl, and I’ll get at you later. Peace.” And with that, Lloyd hung up the phone. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect, because right at that moment, my doorbell rang.

“Hold on just a second!” I called. I quickly dashed over to the light switch and dimmed the lights in the apartment. Then I ran over to the dining room table and used a cigarette lighter to light to the two candles I’d set up in the middle of it. Finally, I made my way to the front door and paused to check myself in the small mirror I kept on the wall right next to it, making sure my teeth were on point and the quick-edge-up I’d given my hair with my clippers was even. I nodded at my reflection in approval, then looked into the peephole… and just like that, my whole mood was ruined. Aww, come on!, I thought. Not you and certainly not right now…

***

“Okay, what happens with Paul D and Beloved, again?” Stokely asked me.

“They have sex,” I told him. “Duh.”

“I know THAT, Clarity,” he replied, rolling his eyes at me. “What I don’t understand is the significance behind it. Like, what’s up with all that about the tobacco tin that’s rusted shut or whatever?”

“Oh. Hold on, let me look back at it.” I picked up the copy of Toni Morrison’s Beloved that was sitting next to me on the couch and flipped through the dog-eared pages until I reached that part of the story. I quickly looked over a few paragraphs and the notes I’d written in the margins.

“Okay, so… what I think it stands for,” I began, looking up from my book, “is Paul D’s heart.”

“I would have NEVER guessed,” Stokely said, the sarcasm too apparent in his voice.

“Can I finish? Thanks. Anyway, like I was saying, the tobacco tin stands for Paul D’s heart. He’s basically locked his emotions away inside of it all the time that he was enslaved and on his own, probably because not having emotions helped him survive somehow. So then the ‘tobacco tin’ opens when he and Beloved have sex, because it’s his first real legitimate encounter with love. He didn’t love Sethe, he just wanted to be her provider in the beginning. But with Beloved, he felt sorry for her and that sympathy translated into love.”

“Okay, I think I see what you’re saying. So he never really was attracted to Beloved.” I nodded.

“Right. Beloved un-rusted the tobacco tin, but she wasn’t responsible for it opening all the way. That honor belongs to Sethe. It’s kind of like when someone can unlock a door but not open it. Beloved merely unlocked the door.” I sighed deeply. “I’m sure that’s hard to understand.”

“No, no,” Stokely said dismissively. “The way you broke it down fits. I’d just feel a bit better if this question DIDN’T make it onto the test tomorrow.” He looked down at his watch and then looked back up at me. “It’s almost 11 PM. We’ve been on this for nearly three hours, Clarity. Time for a break, don’t you think?”

“Man, Nightingale, a break ain’t even the word,” I agreed. I stood up from the couch and stretched, extending my arms out to my sides and rolling my neck in a circular motion. My last midterm examination before Spring Break was tomorrow, in Professor Williams’ Black Literature class, and I was trying to get a perfect score on it. The test was supposed to be all short written answers and an essay – great for a writer like me, but not so good for someone who was better with multiple-choice questions, like Stokely. As a result, I’d convinced him to come over to the apartment and study with me since I knew I would have definitely found an excuse to play that RPG game, especially seeing how close I was to beating it now. It was just him and me, seeing as Je’Nah was studying on campus with her sorority sisters and Kandyce was allegedly at work tonight. We’d ordered some wings from a local pizza place and ate and spent the rest of the time quizzing ourselves on the possible midterm questions.

“I’ll be so glad for the Spring Break,” Stokely said, reaching out to grab one of the leftover wings and biting into it.

“I’m sure you will be,” I replied with a smirk. “But umm… Nightingale, you know those wings are cold by now, right? We do have a microwave in here.”

“Hey, cold wings are second only to cold pizza as ideal study food.” I mocked a motion like I was gagging as he took another bite into the wing. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” I picked up one of the napkins on the table, gathered up some of the leftover wings, and then walked into the kitchen to heat them up in the microwave. “I’m not even worried about Spring Break, to tell you the truth, Stokely,” I said, turning back to him as I waited for my food. “I’m just trying to get up out of GSU, period. Just think, Stokely – two months from now, you’ll be an alumnus.” The weary expression on his face from all the studying seemed to lift just a tad.

“I know, right? I won’t get there easily. Still got midterms and assignments between now and May, and then final exams to get through. I’m a lot more worried about leaving behind the Black community here than I am about anything else, though.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” he assured me. “You don’t invest so much of yourself in something for so many years and expect to just break away from it that easy.”

“Funny,” I started, taking my wings out of the microwave. “Breaking away was pretty easy for me.”

“That’s because you’re you, Clarity,” Stokely said. “You weren’t as involved as I am.”

“Oh, don’t play that card with me, Nightingale. You know damn well I was very active in Black GSU my first two years. I was right there with you at the BSA meetings and at the social events and everything.”

“I know, but –”

“But nothing!” I cut him off. “Stokely, I know you like to think of yourself as the big Black leader on campus, which you are, but that gives you no right to ‘assess’ whether or not I did enough in the Black community. That’s just one of the many reasons I stepped away.”

“What is?”

“That judgment, Stokely. Hold on. Do you want something to drink while I’m in here?” I was getting a soda pop out of the fridge to go with my wings.

“Hmm. Y’all got any White Russians?” I poked my head back up over the refrigerator door to answer his question with a side eye. “I’m just playing! Really, though… I guess I’m good with a Coke.” I took a Coke out the fridge and then carried everything over to where we had been sitting, setting the Coke can in front of Stokely on the coffee table before plopping back down on the couch with my wings.

“Now, where was I?”

“’The judgment,” Stokely reminded me. “Thanks for the soda, by the way.”

“No problem,” I replied. “Anyway, yeah, in Black GSU, there’s too much damn judgment. People in the community seem to think that if you don’t come around enough, you’re not ‘down enough for the cause.’ And still others, the alleged pillars of the community that they perceive themselves to be, like to measure whether someone is ‘Black enough’ for the community. Classic example – you remember Ronald, that dude with the hearing aid our freshman year who was from overseas?”

“Yeah. What about him?”

“Remember how the people in BSA teased him because he had a British accent? That was horrible.”

“That was mostly in fun, though, Clarity,” Stokely defended. “Hell, we made fun of his accent, too.”

“Yes, but only occasionally,” I reminded him, “and certainly never in Ronald’s face. What we saw as a joke, he may well have seen as Black GSU not accepting him, just because he was a little bit different. Would YOU want to be a part of a group that made you feel bad or ashamed about yourself?”

“Clarity, differences are no excuse,” Stokely began. “Black GSU exists as a community to help incorporate other people, regardless of where they come from. Everybody has their differences and quirks and stuff, but you can always find SOME part of Black GSU to blend in with, because we’re all Black and we’re all facing the same additional struggle. Besides, the Greeks take people who are so-called different ALL the time.” I’d had to look at him incredulously when he said that.

“The Greeks?!” I repeated. “Stokely Night, PLEASE tell me you didn’t just bring up the got damn Greeks as an example of the ‘good’ in Black GSU.”

“They serve a purpose-“

“No, there is a purpose they SHOULD serve,” I corrected him, “yet a purpose they don’t serve at all. Not a single chapter on this campus lives up to what it was founded for. Not one. Scholarship? Half of the niggas in the fraternities are flunking out. The Omegas are the only ones with an average GPA that’s higher than a 2.5. Service? The AKA’s going to an old folks’ home with girls who are interested in the organization does not count, that’s not legitimate. The Zetas, when they were on campus, were the only organization that actually went out and helped the community, outside of just campus.”

“Okay, first of all, Clarity, a lot of these organizations DO do community service, sometimes it’s just chapter specific. Just because you don’t see them do it, doesn’t mean they’re not doing it.”

“Bullshit,” I mumbled.

“Secondly,” Stokely continued, as though he hadn’t heard me, “the purpose that these organizations serve has changed. Yes, they were all founded for certain ideals, and yes, they should all strive to adhere to them. But this ain’t the early twentieth century anymore. There is no need for Greeks to be the pillars and rallying points that they were in times past, because times are different now. Black people aren’t as excluded as they were, especially not on college campuses. So the reason for their existence has changed: they don’t exist to be ‘the example,’ they exist to be a means to continue and enhance community.”

“Continue and enhance community? Really, Stokely?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Many of the male organizations pimp out the females on this campus and take advantage of them. The female organizations reduce young ladies to NOTHING before trying to ‘build them up in sisterhood.’ If anything, the Greeks divide the community even more so. People refuse to hold the Greeks accountable to do the shit they’re supposed to do. Yes, they should be the pillars and rallying points now, too. The whole Greek council- ”

“The NPHC,” Stokely interrupted me.

“Whoever the hell they are, they should have been right there working with us on that counter-rally. They should fighting for the OAASS&P. Yes, I know they came out and supported us, but they should have been on the field, not in the stands. Actually, you know what? I’m glad they didn’t, because now hopefully the Black community sees you don’t HAVE to be Greek to do something important. But nobody holds the Greeks accountable. We know the Greeks are wack, but instead of saying, ‘Do better,’ we go out to their parties and events and miss events we COULD benefit from. Folks are afraid to say something for some reason. Why? Because you think if you speak out, if you tell them what they NEED to hear instead of what they want to hear, they’re not going to put you on the next line? Bullshit.

“And Stokely,” I concluded, “pardon me for saying so, but your ass is a little bit biased on the Greek topic, don’t you think?” He frowned at me, but I didn’t care. I’m telling the truth, I thought. He knows I am, too.

“Clarity, you let one experience dictate the rest of your experiences with Black GSU. And for that, I think it’s safe to say you’re biased, too.” We both fell silent after that. Somehow, I had known he’d pull that card. It was an unfair one to play, one that a man couldn’t possibly understand how unfair it was… but the only one Stokely could put out there given what I’d said. For a brief moment, my mind replayed my first two years at GSU, the event that had transpired that MAY have formed the bias Stokely was talking about. It was easier to say “may have” than it was to admit to anything. It allowed me to claim at least some responsibility in that, so that I wouldn’t have to feel as powerless as I’d felt back then when I was in that position.

“Do you ever think about it?” Stokely asked suddenly. My initial thought was to say, Are you serious, Stokely? What the hell kind of question is that to ask me?! But I talked myself through the anger and frustration that had bubbled up over this conversation, reminded myself that Stokely’s intentions were good and that he wasn’t one of the guys who’d hung me out to dry. Then I responded.

“Think about what?”

“About what could have been.” He was sitting next to me on the couch now, looking straight at me. The look in his eyes was fearless, as though he was committed to not backing down, but equally committed to protecting me. There was so much asked in those five words, at least to me. I hoped that the look in my eyes didn’t give away how vulnerable I was feeling. That’s not what he’s asking, I told myself, and immediately pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I reminded myself of the second rule of war.

“Sometimes,” I said softly. “Sometimes I do. But then I remind myself that I wouldn’t be who or where I am had things gone differently. And that’s enough to keep me going.” I reached out and put a hand on Stokely’s lap, patted it twice. “We should probably get back to work.”

“We should,” he agreed. He moved back over to his place in the armchair next to the couch. Our conversation was over. There were more important things to worry about now, like this midterm. But maybe at another time, we’d continue our conversation and confront the ghosts that hid behind our motives, the pasts we’d been trying to avoid. Later. Soon. At another time.

ACT TWO – Episode IX

If that’s the case, sweetie, why don’t you tell me where Graham was last Thursday night? I’ll give you a hint: F-U-C-K-I-N-G R-O-X-I-E. You get that, Kandyce?

“I’m fine! I’m fucking great!”

“Kandyce, calm down! Damn, I’m on your side!”

“Back the FUCK away from me! That skank-ass, trick-ass, lying-ass…”

“It’s over! Okay? It’s over! Calm down!”

“Clare, I love you, but I will slap the SHIT outta you if you don’t let me go right this instant!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re angry. You know better…”

“I know one thing, y’all better not fight in my damn car. Clarity, stop instigating shit.”

Oh, look, the ho can spell! Good for you, Roxie! That means you know what’s about to happen when I say I’m going to T-K-motherfuckin’-O your Gary Coleman short ass!

“Okay… okay… I’m calm. I’m calm, y’all, for real. Clare, let me go… wait, that trick coming into the parking lot?! Oh, shit! Let me out! Let me out!”

“Stokely, don’t you unlock these damn doors…!”

“Hello? Yes, she’s fine, Graham. Look, dawg, I’ma have to call you back…”

“Wait, is that Graham? Stokely, if that’s Graham, give me the phone. Let me talk to his lyin’ and cheatin’ ass! I’ma get this shit straight right now, real talk!”

“Kandyce, I’ma need you to fuckin’ ‘whoosah’ or something before I have to knock some sense into your ass. You’re my girl, but this the wrong damn time…”

“What? No, you can’t speak to Kandyce, are you crazy?! Do you HEAR her?!”

“Yeah, Graham, can you hear me now, nigga? Can you hear me now?!”

***

One hour and a half later, Tuesday afternoon. After we’d finally gotten Kandyce calmed down, Stokely had driven her and I back to the apartment to do some kind of “damage control.” In all the time I’d known her, I’d never seen Kandyce so angry. She stormed into the apartment, went into the kitchen and wrapped some ice in a paper towel, and then beelined into her room, slamming the door behind her. I’d looked at Stokely and he’d just shrugged. “Give her some time,” he’d told me.

Everything had happened so fast. I remembered Stokely holding my hands in his, time seeming to stand still as he looked into my eyes and I into his. I don’t know what I had expected to happen. I was afraid to lean up into him because I didn’t know how he’d react, how I’d react to how he’d react. But then Stokely had looked up and away from me. His eyes had widened. He practically sprinted from where we were standing over to one of the tree-covered areas of the campus commons. Not knowing what else to do, I’d ran after him.

I pressed and squeezed between folks, trying to follow the path Stokely had pretty much plowed through the crowd of people. I saw two girls fighting another one, and another girl was clearly knocked out up against a tree. The girl getting ganged up on broke out, threw a punch that practically cold clocked the white girl that tried to restrain her. Then she tackled the shorter dark-skinned girl and the two of them went at it. I didn’t fully realize that Kandyce was the girl on top until Stokely pulled her away (the fact that the girl had shouted “Beechnut, ho, that’s where I stay!” as Stokely pulled her up helped, too). As the shorter girl got to her feet, she made a motion to lunge at Kandyce; but out of nowhere, Graham had grabbed and restrained her. Just before Stokely started heading back towards me, I got a good look at that other girl. Roxie, I remember thinking. Yeah, I knew her, all right. From a past life…

“I’m going in,” Stokely said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. We were sitting on the front couch together, him with his “thinking face” on, me playing my game, both of us really just trying to get our minds off what had happened.

“Going in where?” I asked him. He tilted his head in the direction of Kandyce’s room. “Oh, hell naw. Stokely, come on, now, the girl is pissed…”

“It’s been a whole hour, Clarity. She’ll have cooled off by now.” I couldn’t help looking at him like he was crazy.

“Stokely, have you seen the movie Soul Food before?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Do you remember that part where Vanessa Williams finds out her husband cheated on her?”

“Yeah,” he said again. “But I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“Okay, Nightingale. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. When you knock on that door and Kandyce looks all calm at first… but then she mollywops your ass and comes after you with a knife for trying to be nice, don’t come crying to me.” He laughed at that, but I was actually pretty serious.

“Clarity, trust me. I know my best friend.” Maybe so, I thought. But she ain’t your best friend right now, she’s a mad Black woman. Stokely had clearly made up his mind, though. I sighed deeply. It was the only answer I could give him that I knew he would actually hear out.

I paused the game and watched Stokely as he got up off the couch and slowly walked up to Kandyce’s door. He knocked twice. Something told me to grab a pillow off the couch and dive for cover, but I was too anxious to see what would happen. A few seconds passed after Stokely’s second knock before a feeble “Yeah” came out from behind the door. Stokely turned back to look at me, grinning and doing a fist pump to rival Tiger Woods’s.

“Hey, Kandyce,” Stokely started, his voice in a soft tone. It was something unfamiliar, yet something I thought I knew. From a past life, maybe, I thought to myself. “It’s Stokely. Mind if I come in?”

“I don’t want to be bothered,” the feeble voice responded. Stokely looked back at me and I stuck my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes at that.

“Look, K… I’m just going to listen, alright?” he continued in that soft voice of his. “You can do all the talking. I’m just going to listen.” It was silent for a few moments after that. Then, suddenly, the door opened a crack. Stokely didn’t even bother looking back that time; he just walked right in and closed the door behind him. A funny thought entered my mind. I un-paused my game, kept it on so that the music would keep playing loudly. Then I silently crept up to the Kandyce’s door and pressed my ear against it, hoping Stokely and Kandyce wouldn’t mind an extra listener.

***

“Let me be patient/ Let me be kind/Make me unselfish, without bein’ blind/ And though I may suffer, I’ll envy it not/ And endure what comes…”

“I don’t want to be bothered,” I shouted at the voice that had called my name from behind the door. At least, in my mind, it sounded like a shout. I really DIDN’T want to be bothered. I was a mental train wreck and all I needed to hear right now was this song that was playing, Lauryn Hill’s “Tell Him.” Lauryn Hill was therapy music, enduring music… and after today, possibly getting over a forthcoming breakup music. I pulled myself up on my bed to where I was sitting on the pillows Indian-style with my back against the wall, folded my arms across my chest and bobbed my head to the beat.

“Look, K…” I heard over the music again. “I’m just going to listen, alright? You can do all the talking, I’m just going to listen.” Against my better judgment, I looked over at the door. Why listen to me? I thought. You could be listening to Clarity, why me? I shook those thoughts out of my head and rolled out of my bed with a sigh, then opened the door slightly before going back to sit on the bed. Stokely came in and closed the door, then stood with his back against it. He crossed his arms, almost like he was mimicking my position on the bed.

“Lauryn Hill,” he said after a moment. “So you mad, huh?” I looked up at him and couldn’t resist letting out a “Humph.”

“Well, you let me in here now, so…” Stokely stopped and walked over to my iPod dock, turned down the volume on my Lauryn Hill before continuing. “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

I raised a hand to the side of my head, massaged the small knot that seemed to be forming there. That had happened when I’d been bum-rushed by the white girl from the Buckhead clique. Just rubbing the knot made me think about the fight again, which made me think about Roxie’s punk-ass again… which made me think about Graham again…

“I feel betrayed, Stokely.” For a minute, that was all I could muster out. “What do you do when everything you think you know turns out to be a lie?”

“What makes you think everything is a lie?” Stokely asked. I looked up at him, tried to find some kind of comfort or hope or… something in those brown eyes of his.

“Just…” I started. “Clarity tried to warn me, you know. About Graham. She told me to expect something like this.” Against my better judgment, I caught myself sniffling. I tried to fix my face up so that I wouldn’t cry.

“Stupid guys. You’re all the same. You start out all nice and saying all the right things in the beginning… then the magic ends and you find out your prince is a gotdamn bullfrog with all kinds of flies in his shit.” I heard Stokely chuckle at that and I had to glare at him. How dare he find amusement in my misery, I thought.

“It’s not funny,” I told him.

“Your analogy was funny,” he replied. “The situation is not, though, you’re right. Look, Kandyce, I know Graham, alright? I’ve known Graham. He’s my best friend. He’s done some messed-up things in the past, sure. Don’t we all have things we regret? But I know since he’s been with you, he’s been very different. Very faithful.” I searched Stokely’s eyes to see if there was some telling sign he might be lying. It’s a known fact that guys cover for their friends; good girls do the same, emphasis on “good.” But there was nothing deceiving about his gaze. I looked back down at my bed again.

“I never thought I’d fight over a guy.” The words left my mouth before I could catch them. The next thing I knew, I was overflowing. “You know? I’m supposed to be Kandyce White, the classy one, the good girl. And now I just got in a damn fight, in PUBLIC, on CAMPUS. And all I have to show for it is this.” I opened up my balled fist and threw my little trophy onto the mattress, the piece of hair I’d pulled out of Roxie’s fake-ass weave. Stokely leaned forward to see what it was and laughed out loud. I wanted to glare at him again, but I found myself chuckling at the piece of weave, too. He walked over and sat on the bed next to me.

“Maybe that just means that… that you’ve found the person worth fighting for,” he told me. He said that last part almost with a bit of hesitation. “Not necessarily physically speaking, but metaphorically, you know. He brings out your best and your worst. But that’s okay. Because he brings out both, not one more than the other. Graham gives you balance.” Balance, I thought. Funny, it feels pretty unbalanced to me.

“It feels pretty unbalanced to me,” I repeated aloud. “Let’s say you’re right about this Roxie girl. This ain’t the first story I’ve heard about him, Stokely. I was told… Je’Nah told me that…” I paused and took a deep breath. I was afraid that I might be speaking it into existence where it might before have just been rumor. But it had been on my mind for so long. I needed to let it fall off.

“Je’Nah told me that Graham and Clarity used to sleep together.” Stokely’s eyes had darted up at me when I said that. Aha! I thought in my mind. So it IS true!

“That’s not… that’s not exactly what happened, Kandyce,” Stokely said softly. I’d had to raise an eyebrow at that.

“Kandyce, why didn’t you tell me about you and Graham?” he asked. “I would’ve never known had I not heard Roxie screaming about it during the fight.” I opened my mouth to answer, but Stokely cut me off – and that was probably a good thing, because I had had no idea what I was going to say. “Sometimes friends don’t tell their friends things to protect them. Because it’s in their best interest not to know. Right?” I nodded slowly, still a bit confused.

“Maybe. But what does this have to do with me and Gra-“

“Graham never slept with Clarity. I did.” I blinked. I half-expected Stokely to burst out laughing and say it was all a joke, but he never did.

“That was back when Graham and I both were going out for Kappa line, his freshman year. I met Clarity at a function, one thing led to another, and we got a little something going on. When the story is told, it’s always about ‘some guy on Kappa line.’ People always think it’s about Graham because he actually crossed. But it’s not. It’s about me.

“I’m kind of ashamed of it now because it was mostly sex, you know? We didn’t have anything foundational. And then we broke it off junior year.” I was at a loss. So many things, so many thoughts swirled through my head.

“Why… why are you telling me this?” I had to ask him.

“Because that’s what real friends do: they give it to each other straight.”

“At the cost of me feeling betrayed behind it?”

“Call it what you want,” Stokely replied, looking into my eyes. I wanted to look down, tried to look away, but I wasn’t able to. “You don’t lie to your best friend. Graham’s a good guy, he’s good for you, you’re good for him. I couldn’t let that get ruined behind some rumor. And Clarity’s good people, too. She doesn’t deserve having her name ruined behind something that’s not true. It wouldn’t have been wrong of me to keep the truth about your best friend and your boyfriend from you.”

I tried to process what Stokely had told me in the silence that followed. Slowly, everything started to make sense. Clarity wouldn’t have told me because she knew Stokely and I were best friends, I thought to myself. Graham wouldn’t have told me out of loyalty to HIS best friend. And Stokely… Stokely being Stokely probably thought he was looking out for me. But this means Graham was never in the wrong. I was about to let him go over some foolish rumor. Stokely had basically kept what Graham and I had from falling to pieces.

Suddenly, Stokely reached over and extended an arm as if he was trying to hug me. Before he could wrap his arm around my shoulder, though, I pulled away. I didn’t even quite realize it had happened until I saw the expression on Stokely’s face. I couldn’t read it, but I could tell he was hurt. I saw it in his eyes.

“Stokely, thank you,” I said softly. “But you should probably go.” He seemed disoriented for a minute, as if he didn’t know what to do… as if he wanted to do something, anything BUT go. But Stokely finally got off the bed, patted his hand on the mattress as if to still get in that touch that I wouldn’t allow him to in a hug, then left. I put my Lauryn Hill “Tell Me” song back on, hoping it would keep me from hearing myself think.

“… I’ll never be jealous/ I’ll never be too prou-oud/ ‘Cause love is not boastful/ (ooh) and love is not loud/ Tell him I love him/ Tell him I need him…”

But it didn’t work. There were still some things that didn’t add up to me. For one, Stokely’s story didn’t explain why Clarity was so against Graham sometimes. As well, there was still that Roxie loophole. Stokely had made me a bit more hopeful about Graham, but I’d still have to ask Graham about that myself. But I DID believe that Stokely had told me the truth. In doing that, Stokely had changed something between us. It didn’t really matter, and I’m sure later on, it would matter even less.

But I’d known Clarity for two years, and I’d known Stokely for even longer, I thought. Why didn’t he think it was important to tell me about he and Clarity’s past? And more importantly, why did it matter so much to me?