Back to you, p.8
Back to You, page 8
“I like dat nose ring.”
“Thanks.” I cover my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that. I hadn’t meant to say anything. Manners are entrenched in me. It’s like I have to respond when someone pays me a compliment.
“Did you take any pictures of yer’self? Any...what do you young people call dem? Selfies?”
I nod.
“May I see dem?”
My right shoulder goes up. I don’t care that she sees them but she’s the one who has my phone for the hour. She removes it from the lock box and sits beside me.
“Show me.” She hands me my phone. I unlock it and navigate to my photos. The last photo that appears is the one JJ sent me yesterday after our run.
I must admit it was a beautiful surprise. I met him at the spot where he told me to meet him. Since Daylight Savings Time had arrived, the sky was still dark and completely filled with stars. It took me a minute to figure out what to workout in so I was a few minutes late. I walked briskly to our agreed upon meeting spot.
JJ stood waiting for me just like he said he would.
“How long you been waiting?” I asked him when I arrived.
“Not long. Did you walk or run?”
I gave him a knowing look. He knew I wasn’t about the running life. I was just slightly out of breath but I eyed him up and down quickly. The morning air was nippy. He had on basketball shorts, a tight long sleeve shirt, and a slouchy beanie. I, on the other hand, was bundled in every warm thing I could find.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Aren’t you?” His shorts and long sleeves had me confused about what weather he was dressed for.
He ignored my question and tapped his watch. “Okay, so don’t be mad at me, but we need to run now.”
“What?”
He took off running. At first, I just watched his stride but when he turned the corner, I realized I needed to catch up.
Once I caught up with him, we matched each other stride for stride. For a few minutes I was fine, but then I started to breathe harder and I felt like I needed a break.
“Breathe like this,” JJ ran backwards to show me how he breathed. I mimicked it and it helped a little but I still wanted to stop.
“Almost there,” he said.
I didn’t know where “there” was, but I kept running with him. We were running east underneath a path of street lights, but then he deviated from the path and slowed down to go up a steep, grassy hill.
I contemplated it because it seemed like a giant. My energy and stamina had left me. There was no way my body was going to allow me up that hill. It was too big and if we were going all the way to the top, I was sure I’d collapse before making it up there. I was out of breath, sweaty and breathing hard. I hesitated.
JJ extended his hand to me. “Come on, Clove. I got you. Trust me.”
I trusted him, so I reached my arm out and his hand firmly grasped mine. He pulled me up to the top, doing all the work, because my feet and body were done.
My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, my throat was raw from trying to take in so much of the cold air, and my lips were on the verge of bleeding from being so dry. But then, we finally reached the top of the hill, which seemed like a mini Mount Everest in my eyes.
The stars were gradually fading and the sky above the treetops was like a lighter shade of blue.
JJ leaned against a tree desolate of its leaves. Spring had come early, but that tree either didn’t get the memo or had gone on to greener pastures.
I began to understand why JJ wore shorts. Sweat fell from my forehead and down my temple. I removed my hoodie and hung it over one of the branches of the dead tree. Then I sat down and leaned my back against the tree bark.
JJ sat next to me. You should keep your sweatshirt on. You’re perspiring to cool you off, but it’s also opening your pores. You’re going to be very cold in a moment.”
I didn’t listen at first. JJ continued talking. “There are three types of twilight; Astronomical, Nautical, and Civil. Right now, we’re in the Nautical. The sun is between 12 and 18 degrees below the horizon.”
I didn’t quite understand what he meant but I was sure that he was right. He knew the sky and the stars. It was his thing.
The morning was quiet and peaceful. After several minutes, I began to shiver and took my sweatshirt down from the tree.
“Told you,” JJ smiled.
I pushed his shoulder playfully. “Do you always come here when you run?” If he did, I could see why he ran every morning.
He kept watching the skyline above the trees. “Not all the time.”
We talked very little and I listened to the sounds of the birds chirping. They were singing like crazy as if they were cheering the daylight on.
“Those birds are really happy.” I said.
JJ nodded. “If you’d spent the whole night in the cold darkness, wouldn’t you be happy to see the light?” He looked at me and I got lost in his eyes again. Not wanting to stare too long, I focused on the sky. The shades of blue were becoming pink at the horizon, something like a different version of a rainbow.
We watched the sky change for several minutes. As the sun began to ascend, my mouth parted at the beauty before me. It was amazing. JJ had a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “What do you think?” he asked.
I sat there in awe, breathless but not from the run. “I love it,” I whispered. “It’s like watching the Earth get kissed by the sun, an awakening.”
My eyes stayed focused on the view but I could feel JJ’s eyes staring at me.
“That sounds poetic, Clove. You should write that down.”
We stayed until the sun was above the horizon. After I got back home, I decided to take his advice and wrote a poem in the journal Dr. O'dea gave me. It was the first thing I’d written that wasn't a feeling of anger.
Dr. O’dea points to the silhouetted photo that JJ took of me watching the sunrise. “Tell me ‘bout dis pic’cha,” she says.
I think it’s self-explanatory really but I briefly tell her how JJ and I went running and walking to watch the sunrise.
“Who is JJ?”
“He’s my best friend.”
She nods, then she swipes—without permission—to the next photo. It’s another photo that he sent me. He’d held his hand high and we took a selfie together or maybe it’s called a twosie or something. I don’t know. Anyway, in the photo, we’re close together and smiling for the camera.
“Look at all that pretty red hair he has. He’s very handsome. You say the two of you are just friends?”
My eyebrows lower. “Yes, just friends,” I answer, echoing the end of her question.
Dr. O’dea has amusement in her eyes. “Hmmmm,” she says, giving me my phone back. “Did you write any ting down in yer jernal?”
“Poetry.” Or I should say I attempted poetry. JJ had made me think I was a poet when we got back to my house but on paper it didn’t look so great.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Dr. O’dea asks.
I reach inside my backpack and pull out the journal she gave me.
I turn directly to the poem I wrote yesterday and begin to recite.
“Your light shines down on me
like kisses to awaken my soul,
warming me with your touch,
healing me with your love.
Your brightness is a lamp,
making me glow and gleam with every move you make.
Your beauty is obsessive, enthralling and captivating.
I’m in awe of you.”
I can feel Dr. O’dea beaming at me. “Well Miss Clove, it sounds like you are in love, chile.”
I shake my head. I’m not in love. I don’t think I understand love. “Right now, I can only love that sunrise I saw. That’s all I was referring to in the poem.” I tell her.
Dr. O’dea nods slowly again. She doesn’t believe me.
Looking For A Hero
Dad tries to make small talk by asking me about my session with Dr. O’dea. I don’t want to talk to him. I’d rather keep pretending to be depressed. Besides, I think whatever I discuss with Dr. O’dea is supposed to stay private.
“Phone,” he says holding out his hand. I give it back to him. Fine by me. My screensaver lights up allowing Dad to see the photo JJ took of me watching the sunrise.
“When’d you take this?” he asks looking at the photo.
Now I have to say something. “I went running with JJ yesterday morning. Am I allowed to do that? Or would you prefer to keep me like veal, caged and in the dark?”
“Don’t get smart with me. I was just asking you a question because it’s a nice photo.”
Instantly, I feel bad for the way I responded. “Thanks,” I mumble. When I get home, I return to my desk to finish my homework.
There’s a knock on my door but I don’t respond. Dad comes in seconds later. He sits down at the end of my bed. “I need you to do something for me.”
I keep writing.
Dad taps my shoulder. “Clove, be respectful. Stop what you’re doing and look at me.”
I put my pencil down. “One of our church members, Sister Brenda, is having her annual Easter Supper for her family. Your mom always made a few desserts for her and she wanted to know if you would make them. You’re the only one I know that can make things like your mother used to. You know her recipes.”
I do know her recipes, but I’ve never made them by myself. I’m also not so sure I’m up for the task. Wasn’t Sister Brenda the one who snitched on me about my nose ring?
“Can’t they make it at the bakery? Or can’t I just give them the recipes so that they can make it?”
Dad lets out his breath. “She’s requested you specifically. Not the bakery.”
This has to be some kind of ploy to get me out of whatever depression or funk he thinks I’m in.
“She’s willing to pay you.”
That gets my attention. “How much?”
“How much do you want? It’ll be two pies and two cakes. One Chess, one Chocolate Chess, Pineapple Upside Down, and a Strawberry Poke Cake.”
I’d never made a Strawberry Poke cake, but the Pineapple one I had done plenty of times. People used to rave about Mama’s Strawberry Poke cake. Whenever she made it, the whole house would smell so good that I could hardly wait for it to cool. Whenever the bakery tried copying her recipe it didn’t come out right. Plus, it wasn’t always a very pretty cake. It needed to be put into a casserole dish because it was so messy. Messy but really good.
If I can do this right, I can make some money before going on the trip, assuming Ms. Brenda will pay me in advance. “I’ll get back to you on the price,” I tell Dad. I need to calculate how much it would cost for all the ingredients plus enough for me to make a profit.
“They won’t need it until Easter. You have plenty of time to do some practice runs if you need to. I volunteer myself as a taste tester.”
Of course he volunteers himself.
“Brenda said she’ll pay you upon completion. So you’ll need to buy your supplies with your savings.”
Doggone it!
“Dad, can I see my phone? I need to text Jessa about something for school.”
He takes my phone out of his pocket. “No texting. Call her.”
Fine.
I dial Jessa and wait for her to pick up. But it goes to voicemail. Good. “Hey Jess, call me back.” I hang up.
Dad folds his arms over his chest because he knows what I’m about to ask. “Fifteen minutes,” he says. “I want your phone back in fifteen minutes.”
I text Jessa as soon as he leaves my room.
Me: Don't call me back. Need an outfit for the dance
Jessa: sorry couldn’t answer when u called. Ur still going with Trevor??
I’m not 100 percent on going with Trevor. But at this point he’s my first choice since JJ is going with Tisha. Not that I wanted to go with JJ, just...well anyway, it’s more about the thrill of going to my first real dance that’s not at the church.
Me: Yes. Need ideas.
There’s no reply from Jessa at first. But then a message comes through.
Jessa: It should be something easy.
Me: That’s what Trevor said
Jessa: He said that???
Me: He said easy to get into and easy to get out of.
Jessa sends a surprised-face emoticon.
Jessa: Idk. U really want to go w/ him? Can u ask someone else? Is ur dad letting u go?
Me: Who else could I go with? No. I haven’t asked dad if I can go yet
Now she sends a worried face emoticon.
Jessa: Really really don’t think this is good idea.
I sigh and bite my nails.
Me: R u going to help me or not? I wanna go. I’ve never been to a school dance.
I wait several seconds for Jessa’s reply, but there’s nothing. After two minutes I go back to my homework but then I text Jessa once more. Tisha suggested I go as Storm.
Still no response. Maybe she’s busy. I text Trevor, What should we go as for this dance?
Trevor: Is this your official ask? Don’t I get candy or flowers?
I snicker to myself.
Me: No this is it.
Trevor: Ok then. How about u be Storm?
Ughhh, there goes that suggestion again.
Me: No
Trevor: Catwoman? I bet a tight catsuit would be sexy on u
I blush. Sexy? Me?
Me: No
Trevor: :(
There has to be some superhero duos that haven’t been overdone.
Trevor: I don’t know much abt superheroes. Sorry.
My time with my phone is dwindling. Who knows about superheroes? Xavier and JJ.
I text them both.
Me to JJ and Xavier: Superhero suggestions? Be quick!
Xavier: How’d u get ur phone back?
Oh lord. I said be quick.
Me: I have 5 minutes.
Xavier: Black Panther
Who? Xavier sends me a photo of one of his comics. It’s super old. I’d never heard of it.
Xavier: This is going to be a movie next year
Hmmm. I put a pin in that to research later but I want to see what else there is.
JJ: Why not be a real superhero, someone not fictional?
That’s a good idea too.
Me: Examples?
JJ: Raven Wilkinson, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, Harriet Tubman.
Me: That sounds great but Harriet Tubman?? may be hard to dance in a long dress and coat. That’s not hot.
Xavier: Actually you WILL be hot with all those clothes on
JJ sends crying laughing emoticons. I swear my friends are so corny.
Xavier: Josephine Baker, she danced in banana leaves in France. She was topless though.
Well that doesn’t help either.
JJ: U r creative enough to make anything work. Don’t overthink it, b original like only u can be.
Best advice I’ve been given so far. Xavier sends a hand clap meant for JJ I’m guessing.
My time is up and I have to give my dad back my phone. Quickly, I text Trevor my idea.
Trevor: but who can I b?
Me: Study your history and figure it out. Don’t text me back. Have to give my phone to my dad.
Trevor: ok
I give my phone back and then go to my room. Just as I remember that I probably should’ve turned my phone off, Dad comes back in and reads my phone. “Trevor says he’ll pick you up at eight. Where y’all headed?”
Shoot! I told him not to text me back!
Resistance
“Not happenin’,” My dad tells me.
I just explained to Dad the reasons why I want to go to the school dance and why he should let me.
Reason #1: He can trust me
Reason #2: I’ve been very responsible minus the whole nose piercing thing, but I still don’t think that’s a big deal.
Reason #3: I should be allowed to go because he went to dances when he was my age and so did Mama.
But my reasons fall on deaf ears. Dad’s not having it.
“Why can’t I go?” I ask him.
I’ve dared to challenge my father and he stares at me with a blank expression. I swear I don’t think anyone has a father as strict as mine. I’m over all these rules that I’ve never questioned. Why can’t I go to the dance? What’s the point of not letting me have my phone when I really only have three good friends that I talk to on a regular basis?
I’ve asked my dad both these questions and he didn’t have a valid reason for the phone so he gave it back. “I know what these young boys think they can get away with at dances,” he says.
“What can they get away with?” I ask honestly because I don’t know.
He fidgets and rubs his head. “Well, for starters, I know that the dance starts at seven and this boy-Terrence-”
“Trevor, Dad. His name is Trevor,” I correct him.
“Well whoever, he’s already starting off all wrong here, by trying to pick you up an hour late. Second, there’s the music that they play. It’ll influence you, it’ll make you feel things and if not you, then him and he’ll try to...um...he’ll ...How old is this guy?”
I ignore his question because it’s irrelevant if he’s not going to let me attend.
Dad seems very uneasy. He shakes his head. “Look, you just can’t go, alright?”
No, it’s not alright. And that type of response is not good enough for me. Why deny me the part of high school that is high school?
“Did you go to dances?”
He smooths his hand around his goatee. His silence tells me everything. I already knew the answer anyway.
Dad sits on my bed and takes a very deep breath. “Are you...are you sexually active?”
Where did that come from? How did we get from going to a dance to sex? Now I’m the one who’s uncomfortable. I squeeze my hands between my knees.
“No. Never even had a boyfriend so definitely not. What does that have to do with this dance?”
“Sometimes guys think it’s an expectation at the end of the night.”
“But I don’t have that expectation for myself. I just wanna dance. I’m not trying to get busy.”
