“Oh my gosh! That was GREAT!”
“Eh, it was okay,” Stokely said, though I could see him fighting to keep a smile from spreading across his face as we got out of the car.
“Nightingale, you, sir, are a hater,” I retorted. “You can’t tell me… Zach Snyder is a creative GENIUS. The way he set up Dr. Manhattan… and how Night Owl’s ship was almost just like it was in the comic. And Rorschach! Oh, that tortured soul.”
“I agree with the first part,” Stokely conceded. “Zach Snyder is a creative genius. But 300 was a lot better. Hey, it’s true!” He backed away before I could hit him in the arm.
“Again I say, such a hater,” I told him.
“See, that term is abused these days,” Stokely remarked, dodging another one of my swings. “Any time someone has an opinion, they’re called a hater. That’s not fair at all.”
“Whatever, Nightingale,” I replied, rolling my eyes at him. “Hey, I need to go to the ladies’ room real quick. You mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll be over at the Snack Bar… getting some Milk Duds!”
Silly boy, I thought to myself as I headed into the women’s restroom. I went in, did my business, then washed my hands and took advantage of a moment to check myself in the mirror. Before I even knew it, I had broken some makeup out of my clutch purse and gone to work adding more color to my eyelashes and cheeks. I almost freshened up my lipstick, but I caught myself just as I was bringing the tip to my lips. Clarity, what are you doing? It’s just the movies, girl. I couldn’t help laughing at myself. It WAS just the movies, true. But still…
It was Friday night of Spring Break. Because we were both stuck around GSU for the break, I’d convinced Stokely that it was past time for us to hang out. Stokely had suggested we catch the midnight showing of the new movie Watchmen, based on a comic book of the same name; though I had been a huge fan of the comic, I had wanted to check out the horror movie The Last House on the Left. We’d rock-paper-scissor’ed over it earlier this afternoon, and Stokely won two out of three rounds (all because I’d relied on rock one time too many – veteran mistake). So here we were, at the Starlight Six Drive-In Theater out in Atlanta. It had certainly been a new experience for me, sitting in the car watching the movie as the sound of everything was transmitted through the car radio. But I’d enjoyed every bit of it: the nostalgic feel, the big screen and fresh popcorn… the intimacy that sitting in the car with Stokely allowed. It definitely got a bit interesting when the sex scene in the movie came onscreen and the people in the cars around us were visibly tonguing each other down.
I’d been hesitant to ask him out in the first place. While it was true that I had wanted to do something with Stokely for a minute, I had been worried to even ask. The only reason I’d even asked him to begin with, was because of the conversation I’d had with Ms. Pickens just three days ago on Tuesday.
“Clarity… you’ve been holding all THAT in for the last… what, almost two years now?” she’d asked, almost incredulously, when I’d finished recounting to her the story of what I felt was my downfall in GSU’s Black community. I’d nodded.
“Well, it’s certainly admirable that you were able to go through that and still bounce back. You should give yourself credit for that, you know? Sometimes difficult things happen to us and we get more concerned about what we went through instead of celebrating that we got through it.” I’d continued sipping my Macchiato when she’d said that, unsure if I was supposed to respond or not.
“But as I told you before,” Ms. Pickens continued, “you still can’t let one circumstance scar you for life. You can’t change it, sure… but you HAVE to move past it. You have too bright a future ahead of you to still be concerned about something like this. When’s the last time you talked to Lloyd?”
“Not since back then,” I’d admitted. “I mean, what could I possibly HAVE talked to him about, you know? ‘Hi, Lloyd, I just wanted to let you know that, even though you ruined my undergraduate experience, I’m okay with that now, so let’s hold hands and sing kumbaya?’ No. I knew if I ever saw Lloyd again, I’d want to go off on him.”
“Even now?” Ms. Pickens had prodded.
“Even now. You don’t go through something like that and just walk away from it, Ms. Pickens. That kind of thing sticks with you, and I’m not just talking about in the community. That affects your confidence, that affects how you handle future friendships and relationships. You ask yourself when you’re applying for jobs, ‘what if they find out about this? Will they not hire me behind this? Will my fellow employees think they can take advantage of me behind this?’” Ms. Pickens had nodded solemnly, as though she had understood where I was coming from.
“Clarity,” Ms. Pickens started, “my only concern is that, because of this one instance, you’ll put walls up against people, guys you’re interested in especially, that they’ll never be able to climb over. Young men especially have a hard time dealing with young ladies they can’t get through over a certain amount of time.”
“But how do you know who to trust?” I’d asked. “How CAN you trust anyone when the person you expected to hold you down lets you fall?”
“You leap again. That’s all you can do, Clarity. I’m sure that may seem like a lot, but you won’t know if you don’t try. I mean, shoot.” She’d stopped to chuckle to herself. “If I hadn’t taken a leap on my husband, we’d have never gotten married. I’d been interested in him back in college somewhat, but I wasn’t ready for a relationship. But deep down, I’d always felt some kind of connection to him, always felt like I’d get to be with him at another time when I was more ready. And then years later, I saw him again, at a bar, ironically enough. Now, I hadn’t seen him in years, Clarity. Didn’t know if he was seeing anybody or single or had kids or what. But I just leaped, because he still seemed like the good guy he had been and I refused to let assumptions cloud what I saw as a good thing.
“If something or someone matters to you, you need to take a chance on them, Clarity,” Ms. Pickens had advised me. “You either do or you don’t. You do, and you get your answer… or you don’t, and you get caught asking yourself ‘what if’s’ at 3:30 in the morning when you should be sleeping.”
Armed with Ms. Pickens’ advice, I’d asked Stokely. That took a lot. One, because a lot of guys don’t take well to “aggressive” girls who take the initiative in asking them out, even though this wasn’t a traditional date. And two… well, it wasn’t because Stokely wasn’t a good guy, because he was, because he IS. It was because I knew I couldn’t stand getting my heart broken by someone I cared about again. But maybe that’s getting ahead of myself. I straightened my hair, took a deep breath, and smiled at the beautiful girl in the mirror. Then I headed back out of the bathroom and out of my thoughts into the real world again.
“Well, damn, took you long enough,” Stokely said when I met him back at his car, throwing a handful of Milk Duds in his mouth. “I almost ran in there to see if you were alright. Did you fall in the toilet or something?” I rolled my eyes at him.
“No,” I replied. “I just had to take a dump. Which reminds me…” I reached over to touch him on the arm and he’d jerked away like I was on fire. I burst out laughing.
“I hope you washed your hands!” he told me with a nervous laugh of his own, and I couldn’t stop cracking up.
“Boy, I’m just playing with you, Nightingale! Calm down.” I giggled again. “And I DID wash my hands. See?” I held out my palms and Stokely looked down at both of them, assessing my hands with his nose in the air jokingly.
“Alright… alright,” Stokely conceded. “But for real, though, that was disgusting, Clarity.” I started laughing again, and Stokely started laughing with me, too. “I’m laughing, but I’m serious, though!”
“Well, then, Serious Man, what’s next?” I asked him. “Are we going to call it a night?” Stokely had looked at me curiously, his eyes moving up and down like he was sizing me up. Then a sly grin spread across his face.
“Actually,” he started, “if you still have some free time, I have an idea.”
***
The small tide came in and licked the edges of the sandy shore. The cool water tickled my feet a little bit, causing to flinch at the sensation.
“What?” Stokely asked, rising up slightly from his place next to me on the towel and looking forward for the culprit that had disturbed my peace and, consequently, his own.
“Nothing, nothing,” I assured him. “The water just tickled my feet a little bit. Made me jump.”
“Ah.” With that, Stokely went back to lying down on the long towel. I, on the other hand, was content just resting up on my elbows, taking in the beautiful sight of the moon dancing on top of the water in the late night hours.
I couldn’t tell you if he had premeditated this or what. Part of me sincerely thought he had had this planned all along. But Stokely’s “idea” turned out to be us having a sort of twilight picnic here on the beach on Lake Oconee. We’d stopped through a Canyon’s Burger Company and picked up some burgers and fries, but Stokely had actually had a picnic basket stashed in his car and packed with a beach towel and his “famous butter pound cake.” Then we’d drove out here and snuck through the gates onto the beach, since the beach was usually closed after 10 PM every night. We had eaten and talked underneath the stars.
“Stokely,” I said softly, trying not to disturb the serenity around us, but I got no answer. “Stokely?” I looked over and down at him. He was sleeping on his stomach, his broad shoulders rising and falling in the dusk. Without even realizing it, I had extended a hand and ran a finger over his back muscles, as he’d taken off his shirt in the heat of the night and was just wearing a wife-beater over his jeans now. I traced gentle circles over the area just below his shoulder where the skin was exposed and smiled. Stokely stirred slightly.
“What’s that?” he asked, raising his head slightly but not getting up.
“It’s just me,” I replied softly. “Just running my fingers down your back. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
“No,” he mumbled. “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to stop if you don’t want.” He laid his head back down on the towel and, in keeping with his instructions, I continued to draw gentle circles on his back. It’s funny how life works sometimes. I would have never guessed going out with Stokely, that we’d be right back in the position we were two years ago. Him laying down, me sitting up running my fingers across the tight muscles on his back. Feelings that had once existed but never really died came back up to the surface and flooded my mind.
What’s wrong, Clarity? He’d asked me back then, and I couldn’t stop crying.
Everything, Stokely. Everything’s gone wrong. Patiently, he’d listened to the story. Or maybe he just pretended to listen, I don’t know. All I know, and what’s stuck with me ever since then, is the relief I got from his slow nod and the look in his eyes. When I was done, he’d put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into him. I’d expected him to push me away or to look at me with disgust. He did neither.
You’re not… you’re not mad at me? I remembered feeling like a little girl when I’d asked him that. But Stokely’s opinion had mattered so much at the time. It was going to let me know whether I was really the victim I thought I was, or whether I was as much to blame for what happened.
No, he’d replied. You deserve better than that, Clarity. Someone who really cares about you wouldn’t make you do something like that. Funny thing is, I wouldn’t put it past Lloyd. Or Graham, even.
You believe me? No one else had back then. I’d needed someone to.
Of course I do. I’d smiled, grinned through what was left of my tears. He had smiled back. Two people betrayed, both of us by something and someone we’d wanted to believe in. Two people seeking safe harbor in a storm. We’d looked in each other’s eyes for a minute, then his eyes got closer and closer to mine. He kissed me gently on the lips and backed away. Smiled at me again. I’d taken that as an invitation. I leaned towards Stokely and pressed my lips upon his, pressed my body against his. Felt his arms wrap around me. The kisses became deep, more intense. Buttons undone. Shirts over heads. Fingers tracing the tapers of his fade. Falling over. Rolling around. Two people seeking safe harbor in a storm by creating a thunder of their own.
When it was all over, he lay down next to me on his stomach. I sat up on my elbows, tracing circles along his back. Then the silent darkness was interrupted. A loud click, then a bright light flooded the room.
Oh shit! The man in the doorway squinted his eyes, trying to confirm his suspicions. I was caught off-guard and didn’t know what to do, so I simply stared at the man in the doorway. But either the light or the man’s voice had woken Stokely up, because he’d immediately rose up and pulled the blanket over me. I listened to them from under the covers.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Hmm. Took the words right out of my mouth.
Nigga, you ain’t got to say nothing to me. I didn’t think you had it in you. But do what you gotta do. I heard the door close. Then the covers had lifted slightly. Stokely’s eyes peered down at mine. No words were needed.
I’d got up and gotten dressed. Stokely had walked me out of the room, down the hallway. Even though I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, my hair was on serious “bedhead” mode, disheveled and everything. We’d walked by the front desk of the residence hall, neither one of us looking at the person working there. It had had all the ingredients of a “walk of shame” at four in the morning: girl wearing the same clothes she’d come in with the night before; guy wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt; heads hung down to avoid awkward or curious stares from anyone in the lobby or at the desk. Stokely led me outside. It had been raining then. Neither of us had thought to consider that, so I grabbed a copy of The Sentinel in the paper rack just outside of the residence hall’s doors to cover my head with. I hugged him goodnight… or good morning. I had held on to him a little longer than I intended to. I went out into the rain and jogged to my own dorm further down campus.
Something wet hit the top of my forehead, pulling me out of my memory. What the hell?! I thought to myself. I blinked a few times, saw the moon out over the water, and remembered where I was. I sighed in relief. For a second there, I really did think I was reliving that night…
Another drop of water hit my arm. Then another. Then another. It was starting to drizzle. Surprisingly, Stokely was still sleeping. I hated to disturb him. This was probably the most rest he’d gotten in a few weeks, I admitted in my head.
“Stokely,” I said, shaking him gently. He didn’t move. “Stokely! Get up, boy, it’s starting to rain.” He groaned loudly.
“Man, this is a shower, Clarity,” he said, groaning again as he got up on his knees. “All I’m missing is soap.”
I rolled my eyes at him, then started packing up the picnic basket and everything. The drizzle began to come down faster. Stokely gathered up the beach towel and held it up over our heads as we dashed across the beach and back through the gate to get to the car. We spent most of the ride back to my apartment in silence. But then Stokely turned on his radio.
“… Wish I could see through/ See deep in-to youuu/ And know, what you’re thinking, now/ And if I were to need it/ I need some kind of sign…”
It was Anthony Hamilton’s song, “Do You Feel Me.” Ironic that THAT song, of all songs, would be playing right now. Before I even realized it, I started singing along with the song on the radio.
“… You play it so cool/ won’t let nothin’, show through/ Won’t show what you’re feeling now, no/ And you like to keep keepin’ me/ keepin’ me here in the dark/ And I can’t see through, into your heart…”
Stokely looked over at me with a half-awed, half-surprised expression on his face. I don’t know why he looked so shocked, I thought as I smiled back at him. After all, I DID sing in the church choir down here. I started rocking my body to the beat of the song now, nudging Stokely from over the armrest with my shoulder whenever I leaned in his direction. Even though he was focused on the road, he gave in to me and started bobbing his head and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in tune with the beat.
Just as the song was going off, the car started coming to a gradual stop. We had reached my apartment. Stokely turned down the radio, so that all that could be heard was the soft tick-tick-tick from the engine and the softer patter of the rain as it beat all over the car.
“So,” Stokely said after a minute. He looked over at me and I looked at him. My eyes melted into his. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. But I didn’t want to ruin the moment. If it even was a moment.
“Clarity, thanks for inviting me out,” he said. “It was just like old times. I hate to admit it, but I probably needed it. It’s the first time I’ve actually hung out with someone since… you know…”
“Since you broke up with No-mi.” I finished for him. It got quiet in the car again for a minute. It seemed like we were just sitting there listening to the rain and the car running. I half-wondered if the soft thump I was hearing outside of those two sounds was Stokely’s heartbeat, or even my own. I took a deep breath, perhaps more loudly than I had intended to, because Stokely looked over at me again.
“You okay?” he asked. Our eyes locked up again. Time stood as still as the cold air around us. I nodded.
“You?” I asked him.
“Yeah, I’m good.” His eyes never left mine.
“Stokely,” I started, then stopped.
“Yep?”
“I really enjoyed tonight, too. Remember when we used to do stuff like this all the time? Just hang out and go off on some random adventure?” I was rambling now. Shut up, Clarity, I told myself, before he thinks you’re crazy. But a small smile of reminiscence spread across Stokely’s face.
“Yeah,” he replied, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I remember. Why don’t we do that anymore?” Because things between us
“-changed.” I jumped when I heard the words coming out of my mouth. Had what I was thinking really just spilled out like that?
“Changed?” Stokely asked. “What changed?” We did. Especially after that night.
And then I felt something warm on the side of my face. It startled me for a moment, but then I realized it was Stokely’s hand on my cheek… which startled me even more so. I tried to find in his eyes the answer I was looking for. What did he want? I thought. Me? No. No, he can’t want me. But his hand never left my cheek. I knew what I wanted to do, I just wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.
It was the sixth rule of war: Act on instinct… but always anticipate the other person’s reaction before acting. Stokely was too hard to read. I didn’t want to do something we’d both regret. But I didn’t want him to see something in me and think I didn’t see the same in him. Because I did. Suddenly, he leaned in towards me, slowly. I didn’t lean in with him, but I was careful not to jerk back, either. I didn’t trust my emotions, I didn’t trust myself right now.
But slowly, surely, he leaned in closer and closer to me. Still couldn’t tell what the look in his eyes meant. Our noses were practically touching now. I closed my eyes and lifted my head slightly. Please don’t let me regret this, I thought. My lips touched air. I opened my eyes. Stokely had kissed me on the cheek. I thought I had been prepared for everything… everything BUT that. I pulled away from my safe harbor in the storm, tried to mask the sadness and disappointment that I felt in the smile I was giving him.
“Call me next week,” I said, giving him more of a subtle order than a timid request, and he nodded.
“Good night, Nightingale.”
“Good night, Clarity,” he replied softly. He looked away then, and I saw his eyebrows furrow, like he was puzzled or at least thinking hard about something. I got out of the car and walked to my first-floor apartment door, seeing the rain falling all around me but feeling none of it touch me. When I reached the door, I looked back and waved at Stokely to let him know I was okay. He honked his horn twice, then drove off into the night.
It was my mistake. I tried to tell myself that it wouldn’t have been fair to Stokely. He was on the rebound and so he only kissed me on my cheek out of respect. If Stokely was really interested in me, I wanted him to want me because I was a good thing for him, not because I was the best available thing for him when he needed me. But I knew I was just trying to find a reason not to believe what my heart already knew: that even though he seemed to be over his ex, that didn’t mean he was over Kandyce. She would be the biggest hurdle of them all for him. Stokely had covered up for me in telling her he’d slept with me. It hadn’t been a total lie, but part of me wondered if he’d ever tell Kandyce the whole truth.
I stepped back outside of my thoughts and unlocked my apartment door, then went inside. I closed the door and pressed my back up against it. I felt my heart sink all the way down into my stomach; my body followed suit, sliding down to the floor. I buried my head in my arms. How could I have been so foolish? I chastised myself for thinking Stokely could ever see me as more than just a friend, for making the beach picnic and the movie out to be more than they had actually been. That one night changed everything between us, I thought to myself. If not for that night, Stokely and I would be just fine. We’d probably have been friends and a whole lot more. But it HAD happened. And because of that night… it was hard to tell what we were anymore.
