“You know what I mean.”
“Well?You live in a dorm full of sorority girls.” We’ve spent considerable time on this subject. I know I’m well within the boundaries of our friendship to talk with her frankly. “And there are only a couple of other black girls living here as far as I can tell.”
“First off—and you already know this—I’m only staying here because Iplan to be an RA next year. It’s helping me to understand the needs and desires of the residents firsthand.”
That’s incredible,I think to myself.So unselfish.“I can’t imagine anyone else doing something like that. You’ll be the best RA ever.”
“Well, I hope so.” Our rug has been curling up on the edge and she mashes the corner down with her foot. “Can I tell you something you don’t know?”
“Sure.” I back up and sit on the edge of my bed.
“You’re playing a big part in all that. Living with you is helping me to understand white girls and how y’all think.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m glad.”
“As far as a sorority goes, I might join. But it’ll be a black one.” She takes off her headscarf. “You can be sure of that.” When her braids fall around her shoulders, she reaches back and ties the scarf securely around them, making a big fat ponytail. “Look around today. You won’t see many chocolate sisters going out for your Rush.”
I shrug. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“And why the ones whodo,do it in the first place—has me unzipped. You know what I’m sayin’?” The way she emphasizes “unzipped,” and teeters back and forth—like she’s a bobblehead—makes me laugh out loud.
But something else about what she said pulls me down. “There’s something really sad and wrong about all that. Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… we’re still so divided around here.”
“It’s not just here, Cali; it’s everywhere.”
“I know. And I’m not sure of the answer, but I still hate it.”
She bends toward me. “All we can do is our part. And I think we”—she flicks a finger back and forth between us—“are doing just that.”
“We are. I know that. But… I wanna do more. That’s why I want to be governor one day. I really want to make a difference in people’s lives.”
When Jasmine reaches out to hug me I stand up, pull her in tight. After she lets go she keeps her hands on my shoulders. “You are a sweet person, Cali Watkins. You’re always concerned about me and everybody else. I love that about you.”
“You’re a sweet person yourself, Jasmine Crawford. And I’ll always beconcerned about you. Probably till I’m ninety and can’t remember my own name.”
“We might be old ladies together. Never can tell.” She turns around to make her bed.
So I do the same. As I’m fluffing my pillow, I turn back around. “Does that mean we’ll move to Florida and knit all day?”
She looks over her shoulder. “Either that or crochet. And when we’re finished, we’ll get in the car and drive twenty miles an hour down the beach highway.”
“It would have to be in a convertible.”
“Of course it’ll be in a convertible.” She tugs on her pajama shorts. “We’ll wear granny bikinis. Take our tops off and swing them high in the air while we’re driving.”
The thought of that—the two of us topless with the top down—gets me laughing. “And then we’ll park the car, run across the sand, and take a buck-naked dip in the ocean.”
A hard pounding on the door interrupts our banter.
“Who is it?” Jasmine says, in a loud voice.
“The Resident Advisor’s boyfriend.” It’s no guy. It’s a girl, disguising her voice, and it’s followed by laughter from a gaggle of ninth-floor rushees. “Open up.Now.”
Jasmine sashays over, snatches the door open. “Why if it’s not the ninth-floor Martinian sextuplets. Come on in,” she says, waving them inside.
