by Jade Alyse
“I completely understand your relationship with him,” Scotty said soothingly.
“You do?”
“Yes…if you were some slut, he wouldn’t have invited you here…”
“That’s comforting…”
“Actually, if you don’t mind me saying…he wanted to hook us up…”
Natalie felt her heart stop. “He wanted to what?”
“He gave me your number,” Scotty explained. “I hope that’s alright. I’ve been too chicken to call, so he figured that this would be a good opportunity for us to hang out and get to know each other…he thought we’d be perfect together…”
She excused herself to the bathroom mere seconds later, pushed her way into an empty stall and shut the door behind her. She could feel the anger climb her limbs, fill her body, warm her cheeks. This had been a setup! Did he think that she could be so easily pawned off? Did he think that she was so pathetic that she couldn’t find someone of her own? Did he not know that she didn’t need anybody? Or maybe he thought that she’d give it up as easily as Jasmine had done with Scotty just before Christmas break. Jasmine still bragged about her nightly endeavors with the cute, white DJ! Did that Brandon Greene simply think that she was that easily swayed?
She exited the bathroom and Brandon stood on the other side of it with his arms crossed.
“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said. “You make it very hard to keep you safe with you disappearing like that…”
She started to tap her foot like her mother. She crossed her arms at her chest and narrowed her eyes.
“What? Did they run out of toilet paper?”
She grumbled something indecipherable and moved past him, tossing her arms in the air.
He reached for her arm and pulled her back. “Whoa, whoa…what was that for?”
“I see why you wanted to be my ‘friend’ so badly,” she sniped. “So you could set up the Brandon Greene Dating Service for the Young and Pathetic…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Giving him my number? This whole thing was a setup, wasn’t it? This whole semester, you’ve been trying to butter me up with the friend crap so you could set me up with your friend?”
“So, you consider yourself pathetic?”
“Don’t mock me…”
“I’m not…you’re a pretty girl, he’s a good-looking guy…the connection only made sense…”
“Yes, yes, I think you’re right,” she replied. “Dating a white boy who pretends to be black, who had sex with one of my friends the same night that I met him…yes, makes all of the sense in the world…”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“All bitter and hateful and touchy?”
“Great, now you’re belittling me?”
“Natalie, look, he’s a great guy…”
“Good, then Jasmine can have him…”
And she walked away.
Scotty got so drunk that not only could he not drive his own car, Brandon and Natalie were forced to drag him the four blocks back to the parking lot where the SUV was, beneath a quiet sky, flashing lights and a frosty draft.
They hadn’t spoken to each other since their bathroom spat, which left them with the only power to give zealous, odious stares in one another’s direction.
Brandon laid his best friend, who still spouted drunken rants and laughter, along the backseat.
“Brandon, Brandon…I love you, man…have I told you that lately? I love you, man…you’re the greatest…and Natalie? Natalie fuckin’ Chandler…I love you too, girl!”
He then climbed behind the steering wheel, Natalie in the front passenger seat, and commenced roaming through the quiet streets of the city. The Pharcyde sang, “You can’t keep running away” from the speakers…
“You must have a lot of respect for me,” Natalie mumbled, her arms crossed at her chest.
“Here you go again,” Brandon replied, huffing.
“I’m just saying…why him?”
“He’s just drunk right now,” he told her. “You can’t hold that against him…”
“I can’t?”
“We’re sorry if we aren’t as perfect as you, Natalie Chandler…”
“So, this is where our friendship ends, right? I can’t rely on a friendship that revolves around deceit…”
“Then, you’ll be a lonely person, Ms. Chandler…”
He pulled into the driveway of the house on Trent road and killed the engine. “I just want to put him to bed before I take you home…it’ll only take a second…you can stay in the car if you’d like…”
Natalie shook her head. So, she and Brandon drug a passed out Scotty into the dark house, down the short corridor and into Scotty’s room. They tossed Scotty on his bed, Brandon said, “Here you go, Buddy,” and clapped his hands together. When she slid on a stack of records, he reached for her hands and wrapped himself around her to balance her.
“You’re okay,” he coached as he got her back to her feet.
She followed him to the kitchen.
“I just want to grab something to drink,” he whispered in moon-bathed shadow. “Is that alright?”
She nodded. She watched as he retrieved a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator, popped it open and took a few gulps.
“There,” he said, replacing the carton in the refrigerator. “Much better…”
They exited the house together, got back into the car and as he stuck his key in the ignition, he whispered, “I know you probably hate me right now…but, do you want to go with me somewhere?”
“Are you crazy? It’s freezing…”
“I’ll make it a short trip, I promise…”
Natalie wanted to blame curiosity as the root to all of her attraction to establishing a friendship with Brandon Greene. There was an unfathomable pull toward him, as if he single-handedly held the key to all of the exciting possibilities that her college experience could potentially offer her.
She studied his face. Common sense at the moment would have told him to take her home that instant, where she could be away from him. After all, it was after two in the morning, and she wanted to get plenty of sleep, so that she could wake up and study for her test that she was certain that she would fail. However, her undying inquisitiveness told her stick with him, see it out.
She nodded, and soon after, he was pulling out of the short driveway in Scotty’s black SUV.
She rode for hours it seemed, drove for miles and miles, tracking through the night, along empty streets, through a whistling draft and silence. And Musiq Soulchild crooned of a girl next door from Scotty’s radio. There was peace around them, a certain kind that she hadn’t felt since she left the countryside, the stillness and consistency that ensued.
She was completely unsure why she trusted him. In any ordinary situation, she would be tired of his whisking her away, of him attempting to take her here and attempting to take her there. But heck, if this is what garnered a “friendship” with him, then she would accept it, right?
Brandon parked the vehicle at a twinkling overlook an hour later.
“Come with me,” he quietly demanded.
So, she did. They exited truck together.
“Here, let me help you,” he offered, reaching for her waist. She stopped his hands, said, “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” and slid onto the hood of the truck herself. He followed suit. Parked against an incline, they could see clearly a vast field ahead of them, moon-shadowed, with overgrown grass, swaying in the wind. Above were the stars in a quiet sky. At a curve in the field, they could see Athens’ lights ahead. The smell of burning wood floated in the air.
Natalie expected nothing less from him, she was sure of it. She concluded that no one else but Brandon could whisk her to Atlanta and the countryside in the capacity of one night.
“What do you think?” he asked her quietly.
She was no less than pleased, surely. “It’s nice,” she replied.
> “I thought so too,” he agreed, smiling. “This is what comes with being friends with me…”
“I see,” she said. “Is this what you do for all of your friends?”
He laughed a little. “Maybe so…maybe not…nevertheless, I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
“How quickly you forget,” he told her. “About trying to set you up…I just saw an opportunity and I ran with it…”
“Oh…”
“Besides, I just figured that if you weren’t dating my best friend, then I would never get to see you…we would never be friends…”
“You have my number,” she admitted. “I have nowhere to hide from you now…”
“And so does Scotty…”
“Yes, so does he,” Natalie said, looking at him. “Well, since you have my number…you can call me and we can hang out…”
“Really? You can promise that?”
“I think I can…you just name it, then I’ll be there…”
“Glad you say that,” he began. “Because I think I want to start hanging out with you tomorrow night…”
“Sure, if it involves studying…”
He chuckled. “I was thinking something more along the lines of a movie or a party…”
“No parties…”
“You’ve only been to two…”
“That’s the only two I want to go to…”
“You’ll enjoy this one…”
“Can you promise that?”
“Actually, I think that I can…”
They’d spent the majority of the following Saturday in the library, going over John Stuart Mill and his ideas of Utilitarianism, and Libertarianism and Hospers.
“No, no,” Brandon would try to explain to her. “It’s the Pleasure Principle…not this…you’re thinking too hard, Nat…just try seeing it in a simpler way…if you do that then there’s no way that you’ll fail, trust me…”
They rewarded themselves by going to the party on Jackson Avenue, in a worn brick house with dark blue shutters, and an oversized UGA flag waving in the front. As alternative music played, Natalie found comfort and common ground with Brandon in standing in a corner, laughing at how silly drunk people looked and acted. It was Natalie’s suggestion.
“You’re right,” he’d told her. “This is much better than getting drunk…did I look this stupid on my birthday?”
“Yes, I can honestly say that you did…”
“Well, I’m even more sorry than I was before…”
Natalie locked her arm with his.
Afterwards, they went back to their spot at the overlook and watched the stars. Natalie talked of her ambitions, of her fears, of who she was, of where she came from. She was a sweet, country girl, who wanted nothing more than to get her education, and pay back her mother for all of the great things that she’d given to her over the years.
Brandon talked of his future, which, of course, included a concise discussion of Sophia’s importance to him, how they met, and why he loved her so much. There was something unfailingly sincere about him, something expressive, something vulnerable. And Natalie soaked it in. In the peaceful whispers of the night, she’d learned that Sophia was his first love, that Sophia was his first secure relationship, that, although Sophia had high hopes of their marriage to one another one day, he was more than skeptical, more than fearful, more than unwilling.
And Natalie only listened. That was what she was best at: listening. She felt that listening to a friend’s woes was much more satisfying than trying to administer advice. They sat on the hood of the green Explorer for hours, it seemed, reminding her of the first night that they met. It astonished her as to how much two people could grow together in a matter of days, minutes it seemed. Natalie, who once detained a fear of the disparity between them, allowed it to subside at that moment beneath the stars.
Brandy
THE HOUSE ON TRENT ROAD became her second home. She got more of her studying done there then she ever could in the library or in her dorm room, where her roommate and her pitiful boyfriend still prevailed. She was there during the week, with her books in tow, coming over to teach Brandon how to cook a meal, she was there on the weekends, watching reruns and ordering pizza. She generally was there when Sophia wasn’t, whenever she was bored and needed someone to talk to, or when Brandon needed someone to vent to about Sophia’s many rants of his behavior.
“Where do you go every night, Natalie?” Sammy asked her as they watched a rerun.
She wanted to tell her roommate that she’d finally found a place of peace, her place of escape. Instead, she chose to be as secretive as possible; she got a kick out of being a young woman of mystery.
“Just someplace,” she said quietly.
If she wasn’t sure of how important Brandon was to her, she most certainly realized it the Friday night that Scotty called her from Brandon’s phone, early into her sophomore year. It had been a slow night for her and she, who had chosen to stay in her dorm room, and lounge on her bed, watched television. She’d just dosed off when her cellular phone rang. She didn’t answer it initially, couldn’t think of one person that she wanted to talk to that late at night. When it rang again, she grew nervous, thinking it could be someone from her family. She rolled over groggily, slid off the bed, and went to retrieve the small device off her desk.
She’d cleared her throat, and had answered no more than above a whisper.
“Yes? What do you want?”
“Natalie, it’s me, Scotty.”
She, who leaned against the desk for support, now raised her body, opened her eyes a little more, thinking the worst immediately. If the way her stomach churned wasn’t an indication that she cared for the boy, then surely her heart pounding was.
“What’s up?” she’d responded.
“It’s Brandon…”
There was a lot of noise in the background, and a couple of times, she swore she heard Brandon, attempting to yell into the phone.
“Clearly,” Natalie said.
“Did I wake you?”
“That’s not important right now,” she told him. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He told me to call you,” Scotty said. “He told me that he wanted to see you…”
Natalie huffed. “And it couldn’t wait till morning?”
“He said it was important…”
“Scotty…”
She heard Scotty clear his throat, and in a very low voice, told her, “He’s been drinking, Nat…”
“And you can’t drive?”
“No,” he told her. “But if I could, I would drop him off by the dorms. Natalie, he’s really messed up, and he won’t shut up, and he won’t leave the bar until he sees you…”
“Good, Lord,” Natalie sighed. “Alright, alright…tell him that I’m on my way…”
She was allowed to bring her car to school that year if she promised to take care of it. It was her sister Sidney’s old car; a small, black, Toyota Camry. It donned a cracked headlight and the engine had a tendency to overheat in hot temperatures, and did absolutely nothing year-round but sit in their driveway at home, taking up space. Her younger sister Maya, barely a high school senior, who’d only been driving their mother’s tan minivan for over a year, wanted it for herself, but her mama had given it to Natalie, because she was older, far more responsible and needed it the most.
She barely drove it, wanted to conserve as much gas as possible, kept the tank full at all times, and tried to keep the car looking as pristine as possible. The only times that she did drive it were when she got hungry and had forgotten to go to the grocery store, or when she was driving into downtown to buy a book from Greg’s Book Shoppe on Foundry Street.
She’d parked in an illegal spot on Washington Street. She walked the length of the sidewalk in nothing more than a pair of slouchy jeans and a pullover, her hair pulled back into a loose chignon, stopping before the doors of Boars Head, hearing rock music and the smell of stale beer, filter out into the streets.
She attempted to call Brandon from her dying cell phone, but only got his voicemail. Then, she tried Scotty. No answer. She tried them both again, feeling her frustration climb, watching people walk in and out of the bar. When she received no answer, she walked into the bar, shoved past the people, saw neither Scott Kelly, nor Brandon Greene. Her frustration turned into anger.
She would ring that Brandon Greene’s neck when she saw him! She’d had enough of him! Enough of the games, dear, Lord! When she saw him, she would give him a piece of her mind.
Her cellular phone vibrated in her hand. She huffed, pulled it into view, and looked at the screen.
Brandon G. calling…
“Where on God’s green earth…?”
“Natalie, it’s Scotty…”
“I’m here, and where are you?”
“We’re around back…the line was too long in the bathroom…Brandon started throwing up…”
“We had a fight, Nat,” Brandon slurred to her on the way back to the house on Trent road. “Sophia and me, we had a huge fight.”
“That doesn’t surprise me…”
“It’s almost over, Natalie,” he continued, with a victorious laugh. “I can feel it, damn it! Goddamnit, it’s almost over, Natalie Chandler…”
“Brandon, if your language doesn’t change, I’m pulling over and letting you out, and you can walk back…”
“Don’t threaten me, girl,” he said. “You—you—you wouldn’t do that…”
“Lord, can you get it out? Your language is perfect right now, I swear…”
He looked at her, heavy-lidded and wide-grinned. “You’re better than her…”
“I didn’t know that there was a need to compare…”
“She’s perfect,” he said. “But you’re better…”
“She’s your girlfriend,” she sighed. “No one should be better than your girlfriend…”
“She’s a bitch…” Though frustrated, Natalie couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the emphasis he put on the word bitch.
“Brandon Greene, I swear…”
“She doesn’t think that I should go to grad school here…”
