“You’re Dio’s shorty?” I heard a voice behind me.
I turned to see a guy with a little girl in his arms. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
“He’s a strong nigga. He’s going to make it through. You just stay away from that nigga Jesaiah. Sometimes coincidences don’t just happen.”
“So, Jesaiah is purposely trying to destroy us?”
“He’s trying to do something,” he mumbled. “It’s college; nobody plays fair. It’s like psychology. All of it’s a mental judo.”
The guy walked off with the baby. I was headed back into the house when my friends came out. Phoebe and Streets were going back and forth while Paige was trying to be the mediator. “Calm down.”
“Xavier, listen to me!” Phoebe shouted.
He flipped up his visor. “Phoebe, dog, chill!” he shouted.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?”
He glanced down at her. “If I talk to you, will you leave me alone?”
She looked at all of us, then at him. “Yes.”
I watched them walk off to talk about saving whatever they had, while I was on the outside, struggling to find a way to talk to Dio.
APPLE
PRESSPLAY
It felt good to walk away from Jesaiah. He probably thought I was going to start begging him to say something to me in a moment, but I didn’t. When I left the party, I didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t even go talk to my best friend because it was obvious she had something against me. I felt like everyone around me, everyone I thought I could trust, was secretly trying to destroy this life I had built for myself. I was becoming more broken by the day, and each time I felt confident about something, the universe found a way to knock me down. I should have let Samara walk into that bathroom to see what was going on, but the Greek life was something everyone couldn’t handle. Hell, I barely made it out when I was pledging. Although Jesaiah and I had reached a point where I felt I hated him, I still respected the organization enough not to let outsiders ruin the process.
I let the music lead the way as I drove. When I pulled into the parking spot of Harlem’s apartments, I knew I had to be losing my mind. However, I felt like if nobody else would listen to me vent, he would. I got out of the car and walked to his door. I gave it a few lighttaps and waited. When the door opened, Harlem stood there with a smile as if he knew I was coming over.
“Are you busy?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, yet he stepped back, allowing me to come in. “What can I do for you? I’m not selling you any pills if that’s why you’re here.”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “No, I just wanted to talk. Can we do that?”
He eyed me curiously. “Sure.”
Every time he switched up how he talked, I found it interesting. I walked around and sat on his dingy brown couch. “Thank you for coming to the pageant,” I told him.
He shrugged as he came to sit next to me. “No, thank you for looking as pretty as you did. When I realized you were out of it at Hoodoo’s that night, and I brought you here. I didn’t tell you, but you cried. You were so sad, and for me, it was an eye opener that even though you could have the world in the palm of your hands, you could still be unhappy.”
A wave of embarrassment hit me when he told me I had been crying in front of him. I shied away until he placed his hand on my leg.
“I’m not judging you. What I am saying is that the girl I saw step onto that campus her freshman year with confidence, grace, smarts, and flyness isn’t the same girl who is sitting in front of me right now. It’s so easy to get caught up in college life, especially at an HBCU. The first thing we think of is parties, Greek life, social outings, and trying to be the best rather than taking in Black experiences and making them our own. Everyone wants excellence but doesn’t see it within themselves. Apple, you’re everything you think you are, but if you don’t know it, shit, any and everything I’m saying is null and void.”
A smile started to form on my face. Harlem was enlightening. His words were inspirational and healing.
“Thank you for that,” I mumbled.
He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch. “You’re welcome. Use what I said. I graduate this year, and I won’t be able to do this again.”
“Who said it has to end when you graduate?”
His head rolled my way. “What are you saying?”
I leaned forward. “You know what I’m saying.”
