Courtship: A 'Snowflake' Novel

by Nia Forrester

  “Like what?”

  “Imagine a computer that will tell you that though it looks cloudy outside, you can be confident with almost one-hundred-percent certainty that today it will not rain. That though you see traffic, your current route is actually faster than the shortcut you’re considering …”

  “And that’s what’s so exciting? Predicting traffic and the weather?”

  “Yes, as well as predicting the likelihood of cancer, or obesity. Anything you can think of. With the right code, you will be able to analyze and produce scenarios for small things, but enormous things as well. Life itself will be more manageable.”

  “Well … if you figure out a way to make life more manageable, you’ll be a very, very rich man.”

  Raj laughed again. “Oh, I plan to be, Ibrahim. I plan to be.”

  19

  Then

  “Kyle is being real shady right now,” Lisa was saying. “How come y’all sitting here in the same library and he’s all the way over there? Acting like he doesn’t even see you.”

  “I don’t care,” Jada said honestly. “We’re broken up. We’ve been broken up for forever. So, whatever.”

  “That doesn’t mean he has to be all up under Christine like he is. Rubbing it in your face.”

  Jada lifted her head and glanced over at where, three tables away, Kyle was indeed sitting next to Christine McMillan, leaning in, his head close to hers while they examined a textbook.

  They looked cute together, Kyle and Christine. Jada wished he would get over everything already. It had been long enough for him to have moved on but bruised male egos didn’t heal quickly.

  “I thought y’all would still go to prom together at least,” Lisa said. “Me and Earl’ll probably still go.”

  Jada made a noncommittal sound, then took a breath.

  “But maybe just in case, you should think of someone else to go with,” Jada said. “You know. Just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Lisa asked.

  Jada sighed inwardly. Everyone knew that Earl was messing around with Laurel now. Not just considering it, but full-fledged. She doubted he would spare Lisa a second thought ever again unless Laurel dumped him.

  “I don’t know,” Jada began, trying to sound casual. “In case you want to have different op…”

  The words she was about to speak stuck in her throat as her eye caught someone standing at the entrance to the main lounge.

  In his signature plain white t-shirt and jeans, white K-Swiss on his feet, there was Prophet.

  Ibrahim. She would have to train herself not to think of him as Prophet anymore since he said he didn’t want her to call him that.

  Lisa looked at her, then followed her gaze just as he began making his way across the room toward her. He looked out-of-context, but more vivid than anything else within Jada’s line of sight. Everything and everyone else had gone fuzzy around the edges.

  “Who’s that?” Lisa whispered.

  Saying nothing, Jada swallowed hard. And then he was there, standing over their table and looking down at her, his expression inscrutable.

  “I said you’d see me soon, right?”

  His voice was deep, raspy, sonorous. The kind of voice that made people at neighboring tables, most of them from her school, look up.

  He shrugged. “So, here I am.”

  Jada smiled, but still couldn’t find her tongue.

  “I’ma find something to read,” he said, seeming not to have noticed he had rendered her mute. “Be right back.”

  Jada was still staring after him when Lisa nudged her hard in the arm.

  “Who is that?” she demanded.

  “Ibrahim,” Jada said, her voice low. She was still watching him, as he made his way toward the nearby stacks, stopping to tilt his head to one side and read the spines of books.

  “Who?”

  “I met him at a party a while ago,” Jada said, leaving out their more recent history. “His name’s Ibrahim.”

  “Ibrahim,” Lisa said. “Dang.”

  Jada didn’t bother asking whether she was responding to the name or to the man himself. Both were dang-worthy as far as she was concerned.

  “So how come he’s here?” Lisa, who never whispered, was whispering now.

  “I …” Jada shrugged. “I guess I told him this is where I am after school. If I’m not at practice. And so he came.” She smiled.

  ~~~

  “This guy must really like you.”

  “What guy must really like me?” Ibrahim asked.

  He, and Jada were leaning against the car, close enough that the hairs on his arms prickled, reacting to hers, a fraction of an inch away.

  “The guy who keeps loaning you this car to drive all over town.”

  “Nasim. Yeah, I guess he likes me fine. He’s an OG from ‘round the way. Looks out for me sometimes. Though I don’t know why, to tell you the truth.”

  “Probably sees something in you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ibrahim turned to look at her. “Something like what?”

  “I don’t know. Something.”

  “What do you see?” He moved a little closer, enjoying the way her breathing sped up just the tiniest bit when he did.

  Jada smiled. “Stuff. I don’t know.”

  “Your friends in there saw some stuff too, I think. They looked real surprised to see a guy like me roll up. I’m guessin’ I’m not your usual type.”

  “I don’t have a usual type.”

  “No boyfriends? Or ex-boyfriends?”

  “Actually yes. One. He was at the table near the restrooms. With a blue sweatshirt. With the hood?”

  Ibrahim nodded. “Yup. I saw him. Gave me the hairy eyeball the whole time I was in there sitting next to you.”

  Jada laughed. “The what?”

  “It means he was giving me dirty looks,” Ibrahim said, laughing with her. “I heard someone say that in a movie once and kinda liked how it sounded. Thought I’d find a way to use it one day. And here it is … my big chance.”

  Jada was still looking at him her warm, brown eyes amused. Her gaze fell to his mouth and Ibrahim pulled in his lower lip. He had a feeling her mind was drifting to precisely the same place his had been.

  They were in the parking lot of the library. He’d offered to drop her off at home, but she turned him down, saying she always left with her friend, Lisa, but that she would walk him out. And they’d been out here for about a half-hour now, just leaning on the car, talking. And doing a whole lot of smiling.

  He was waiting for the most opportune moment to kiss her, when there weren’t too many people in Crestlawn uniforms walking by and watching them with curious gazes. He didn’t want subject Jada to gossip because he knew from the way some of them stared that they had him pegged as a gangbanger.

  Something about the way he wore his clothes, the conspicuous whiteness of his sneakers, or maybe even the way he moved. Not to mention the look of scandalized excitement in her friend Lisa’s eyes when they were introduced, like Jada had brought home a tiger as a pet.

  “His name is Kyle,” Jada said. “And we broke up a while ago. A long while ago.”

  “I bet you’re hard to get over though,” Ibrahim said.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Jada’s face became serious, and her eyes met his. “But I’m long over him.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  This was it. This was the moment. Ibrahim tilted his head to one side and leaned in. She met him halfway, and through half-shut eyes, he saw the moment her lips parted slightly, waiting for his.

  Hers were soft and smooth, and she tasted a little sweet. He pulled back a little.

  “You been having ice cream without me?” he asked.

  Jada spluttered, pulling back a little and putting a hand to her lips. “What?”

  “You taste like it.”

  She pulled in her lower lip and tasted it for herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
/>
  “Maybe I’m wrong,” Ibrahim said, leaning in again. “Lemme check one more time to make sure …” The last word was said against her lips.

  Jada smiled against his and then he felt the tip of her tongue and pressed in closer, sliding his to meet it. Turning completely around, he stood facing her, his arms braced on either side of her head, on roof of the car.

  “Jada?”

  Ibrahim pulled away, and Jada rested a hand on his waist as she craned to look around him.

  It was her friend, Lisa.

  “Are we leaving, or …?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She was a little breathless. “I was just … saying goodbye to Ibrahim.”

  “Sure I can’t drop you two somewhere?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Lisa. He could have moved, but he liked how Jada’s hand felt resting there on his waist.

  “Thank ...” Lisa began.

  “No. It’s fine,” Jada said, cutting her off. “We always take the bus. Lisa, give me a second?”

  Ibrahim only knew her friend had left them alone again because Jada put her other hand on his waist, and got up on her toes to speak directly into his ear.

  “She’s nosey,” she explained. “She’d only spend the entire ride getting all in your business.”

  Ibrahim shrugged. “Don’t bother me none. It’s not like she could make me say anything I don’t want to say.”

  “It’s probably not a good idea anyway.” Jada shook her head. “My mother’s home and it would be a whole big thing …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Okay,” he said. “Maybe another time.”

  Jada nodded. “Another time,” she agreed. “So … you’ll call me?”

  “Yeah,” he said, moving aside to make way for her to go find her friend. “Soon.”

  But Jada pulled him back toward her, tugging on the hem of his shirt, getting on her toes and kissing him one last time.

  ~~~

  “This ain’t gon’ work for me,” Ibrahim said, shaking his head. “Swing back by the house and drop me off first.”

  Next to him, Immanuel shook his head, impatience etched across his features.

  “Look, you said you wanted to …”

  “I’m not tryna go back inside, man. Drop me off. This looks like it’s ‘bout to be a whole lotta nonsense.”

  The moment they rolled up to the party, Ibrahim could tell it would be nothing but drama. Out at the gate, a dude he didn’t know was having a loud argument with a girl in a short, short skirt. When she tried to walk away, he had wrenched her arm, dragging her back toward him while she howled in pain. Even though that seemed to be persuasion enough for her to resume the conversation, this time a little more quietly, Ibrahim was not reassured.

  It was a warm evening, and there was an energy on the block he didn’t like. It was that amped-up and frenetic sense of something-about-to-go-down that he could feel like a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Every part of the city had its own rhythm, and if you were from there, you could feel when the beat was just the tiniest bit … off. It wasn’t anything mystical or magical, just the fine-tuning of senses like a tiger develops from living in a jungle.

  “So you want me to drop you off.” Immanuel sounded resigned now. “Even though it’s been a minute since you and me kicked it like we used to.”

  Ibrahim shrugged.

  “You got somebody, huh?” Immanuel said. “Some chick who keep you on a short leash?”

  “I’m keepin’ myself on a short leash,” Ibrahim said, evading the question. “Because I am not tryna do another bid over some dumb shit.”

  He eyed the guy with the girl at the gate. His pants sagged a little lower on one side. He was packing. All it would take was a noise complaint, and one patrol car and things would go south quick and in a hurry.

  Most of the time, all the cops did was break up the party, yelling and making idle threats they were too lazy to keep. But if they were feeling like a little John Wayne action, they might roust whoever was sporting colors. And if they did, they might search some folks and even if they found nothing, they might feel ambitious, line dudes up on the curb and call in to check for warrants, or records.

  Ibrahim’s probation conditions included not “associating with any known felons” and “abstaining from the consumption of alcohol or other substances.” The first condition was a joke since both his brothers had jackets, and only on paper did they live elsewhere. So, he associated with known felons daily.

  As for the alcohol and “other substances” he found complying with that part surprisingly easy. But going to too many ‘hood parties was tempting fate. There was probably enough weed being smoked in that house that he’d piss dirty just from being around it all night.

  “I ain’ sayin’ you gotta go home but you gots to get me the hell up outta here.” He tried to lighten the mood with an old joke.

  Immanuel shook his head.

  “Damn,” he said. “C’mon then. I’ma grab a couple forties and we can chill back at the crib.”

  When he pulled away from the curb, Ibrahim breathed a little easier. As they drove, at first in silence, his mind drifted toward Jada, the way it had a habit of doing lately, with greater and greater frequency.

  It was Friday. He wondered what she was up to, whether she was hanging out with her girls, or got asked out by one of those kids from her school. The one she said was her ex-boyfriend had been a brown-skinned kid with wavy hair who looked like an extra on The Cosby Show as ne of the rotation of pretty boys who showed up as Denise’s latest boyfriend. Jada’s ex looked just about as squeaky clean as most of the sitcom’s characters did.

  Seeing Ibrahim sitting with Jada, he had looked over at their table a few times too many. And when Jada laughed out loud at something Ibrahim said, dude had gotten hot, all but ignoring the girl he was sitting with, and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  When Ibrahim stood to go swap out the book he was browsing for something new, dude had openly sized him up. Probably wondering what Jada was doing with someone like him. Ibrahim tried not to wonder the same thing.

  “For real though,” Immanuel said when he pulled up in front of the liquor store. “You ain’t never on the block no more. What you been up to?”

  They sat in the car for a few moments, Manny waiting for him to answer, Ibrahim wondering whether he should.

  Fuck it, he thought. May as well let it all out.

  Immanuel listened without comment as he described the gig Nasim had hooked him up with, staring straight ahead rather than looking Ibrahim in the eye.

  “I just … I wanna see if there’s something different out there for me, y’know? And I don’t mean cleaning offices, but I don’t know, just … something different.”

  When he was done talking, his brother relaxed into his seat, letting his head fall back so he was looking up at the ceiling of the car.

  Exhaling slowly, Immanuel turned and looked at him, nodding slowly. Ibrahim couldn’t fully see his eyes in the partial gloom.

  “She …” Manny’s voice broke a little and he cleared his throat. “She woulda been proud,” he said. He didn’t explain who ‘she’ was. But then, he didn’t have to.

  Then he got out of the car and went into the liquor store to buy the alcohol. None of which Ibrahim would drink.

  20

  Then

  “You don’t just … just … kiss people in library parking lots and then not call them for a week.”

  Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jada shut her eyes in humiliation at how dumb it sounded. Thankfully she and Ibrahim were having this conversation over the phone and not in person.

  She had been working on being patient and trying to wait him out, remembering what Lisa said about calling guys. She said she never did it. Never.

  According to her it was good to make them sweat a little. So, Jada waited for a while, fully expecting that a day or two after seeing each other at the library, Ibrahim would call her. She was confident that he would bec
ause the kissing, both before and after the interruption, had been perfection.

  Ibrahim didn’t get grabby and over-eager with her, he was slow and patient, like the kissing itself was the pinnacle of what he might with, and it was more than enough. Kyle, once they started having sex, always got ahead of himself, and ahead of her, reaching down for her crotch almost moment their lips touched.

  Ibrahim kissed not as the prelude to lovemaking, but as lovemaking itself. She wasn’t alone in feeling that. She knew she wasn’t. So she was sure he would call. Except he hadn’t. And each day that went by, something closer to desperation began to overtake her already strained patience.

  Finally, when she remembered that Lisa’s track record with guys was far from what anyone could call enviable, and that she was probably better off following her own instincts, she broke down and dialed his number. She even mustered up a little righteous indignation to power her through. That feeling only strengthened when Ibrahim answered the phone with what sounded like weary indifference.

  Only, he had no idea she was the one calling, so it was unlikely he was indifferent, probably more like … oblivious. He would have no idea she was on the other end of the line because Jada had never called him before.

  Anyway, the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. How could he be so casual and unconcerned? Meanwhile she had been moping around at home, prowling the living room like a zombie, willing the phone to ring every night between seven and nine, when she told him was the best time to call.

  “I’m just … You should have called, that’s all. I mean because …”

  “You’re right,” Ibrahim said.

  Jada hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She had been gearing up for a little bit of a fight, so his easy capitulation required a new strategy.

  “I know you’re busy and all, so …”

  “Not that busy …” Ibrahim began.

  She held her breath.

  “… that I couldn’t call. I should have.”