by Renée Watson
“What!” Essence stands with her hands on her hips. “He married a white woman?” She sits back down, shaking her head in disbelief. “That could be us one day,” Essence says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Ronnie, Malachi, and Devin—three young black men who are definitely going to be successful one day. What if they end up with some white girl on their arm?”
Nikki sighs. “They’re not going anywhere. Yes, there are plenty of girls who want them, but that doesn’t mean they want those girls. You know how it is—black boys who have something going for themselves are a rare commodity around here. But they know what they have with us. Trust me.”
We watch more of the show, and when the commercial comes on, Nikki says, “We’re sitting here thinking about the possibility of some other girls coming for our men—but it could be the other way around, you know. I mean, Maya has been doing homework with Tony, too. Maybe Devin has some competition.”
Essence turns around. “And why didn’t I know about this?”
“There’s nothing to know,” I say. “We’re working on a special project for student council. Charles and Star are with us every time we get together,” I explain. The four of us decided to meet over winter break so we could come up with an event to do at Richmond that Principal Green won’t veto.
Nikki says, “So tell us, Maya—if you and Devin weren’t together, would you ever date Tony?”
Essence turns the TV off. “Good question.”
“Why would you ask me that?” I say.
“Just a question. Would you?” Nikki asks.
We used to play this game in middle school, asking who we had a crush on and who we would date. I almost always said no to Nikki’s and Essence’s options. They called me picky.
“Answer the question,” Essence says.
“Yeah, why are you hesitating? It was just a hypothetical question, but since you’re taking so long to answer, I’m wondering if Devin really does have some competition.” Nikki laughs. She takes one of my pillows and holds it in her lap so she can lean into it. “We’re just messing with you. We know you love Devin.”
“Besides,” Essence says, “if Maya isn’t with Devin, she sure isn’t going to be with Tony or any other white boy. She’s too—”
“I’m too what?” I probe.
“Too … I don’t know, I can’t find the word,” Nikki says. “But it just seems like, well, relationships—no matter how good they are and what the people have in common—are difficult. So why make it more complicated?” Nikki asks.
Essence agrees. “Yeah, I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want to be constantly having to explain my culture.”
“So then, we should just stay in our bubble and not get to know anyone else?” I ask.
Nikki crosses her legs. “That’s not what we’re saying.”
“Well, what are you saying?” I am so torn right now. I agree with them. I do. But I disagree, too.
Essence says, “You know, I guess it just comes down to what your type is. I just ain’t never liked no white boy. Don’t think I ever will. But I will admit it, Tony is cute,” she says. “For a white boy.”
“That’s kind of messed up, Essence,” I say. “You act like Tony is an exception to some rule. What if someone said you were cute for a black girl?”
Essence picks up a magazine from the table next to my bed and flips through it. “Okay, you’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, I’ve never been attracted to a white guy. I mean, yes, there are plenty of cute ones. Tony happens to be the cutest I’ve met,” she explains. “But I really do think it’s about what you want. I mean, let’s take race out of it,” she says. “What if a guy had only three teeth, was missing two fingers, and walked around with a neck twitch. Would you date him?”
Nikki and I burst into laughter. We are laughing so loud, Mom calls out to us and tells us to quiet down.
“But really,” Essence says. “It wouldn’t matter how nice he was. You wouldn’t date him because that’s not the type of guy you prefer. We all have our list—whether we admit it or not—of our ideal person. All I’m saying is, a white guy has never been on my list.”
I play with my hair and reach for the rubber band that’s wrapped around my bedpost. “You’ve got a point,” I say. “I guess it’s complicated. I mean, keeping race out of it, what if you like someone, love him, even, but more like a deep friendship. You know? And then there’s someone else that makes you feel things you’ve never felt. Makes you—”
Nikki gets up from my bed and slides her feet into her slippers. “Is this hypothetical?” She looks at me with her twin vision, trying to read me.
“Just a question,” I say.
“Well,” she says. “I think feelings come and go. Sometimes you have to go with logic. I mean, if you have a deep friendship with someone, why give that up? Friendships make relationships stronger. Look at Mom and Dad.”
“High school sweethearts, just like Malachi and me,” Essence says.
“Mom is always talking about how she chose to love Dad. It wasn’t about the butterflies at first but they came.”
“Right,” I say.
Nikki walks to the door. “I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink. Want anything?” she asks us.
Essence and I say no.
Nikki turns and looks at me again. “Hypothetical question, right?”
“Right.”
When she comes back to the room, she has a menu in her hand. “Want to order a pizza?”
“I don’t have any money for that,” Essence says.
“I got you,” Nikki and I say at the same time.
Nikki and Essence go back and forth about what kind of pizza to get. I lie down on top of the covers and close my eyes.
Why did I hesitate to answer their question about Tony? Why do I get that feeling every time someone mentions his name, or when his eyes look into mine?
Nikki picks the phone up to dial for delivery. “Maya, do you know what you want?”
I thought I did.
Chapter 30
The next morning, Nikki’s alarm goes off, and she doesn’t even budge. She is asleep in my bed, and Essence is on the air mattress. I get out of bed and go across the hallway to Nikki’s room. Her alarm gets louder the closer I get to it. I turn it off and lie on her bed. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get back to sleep. I look at the stuff she has spread across her end table and see two college brochures. One from the University of Oregon and the other, Washington State. Just when I pick them up, Nikki is standing at the door. “Why are you in my bed?”
“You’re not going to Spelman?”
Nikki rubs her eyes and snatches the brochures from me. “Why are you in my room?”
“Both you and Essence are just going to go to other schools like we haven’t planned this?”
Nikki puts the catalogs on her dresser. “I just want to explore other options,” she says. “Ms. Bryant says it’s a good idea to apply to several schools.”
“Right, but U of O? Washington State? We’ve always said we’d go to a historical black college.”
Nikki doesn’t say anything.
It’s one thing for me to think of not having Essence with me in college. But Nikki? How can I exist without my sister by my side? I don’t even know how to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t have her close to me.
“I am not saying I don’t want to go to Spelman. I am just applying to other schools, too.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Do I have to tell you everything?” Nikki says.
I open my mouth to answer, but then I just get up, go back to my room.
No. We don’t have to tell each other everything.
Chapter 31
Snow is still on the ground but the beauty of it has melted into dingy slush. I meet Charles and Star at Tony’s house for another meeting. After Charles and Star leave, Tony asks me if I want to stay so we can watch his Alfred H
itchcock collection.
We walk downstairs into the basement, which is no longer a creepy dungeon but a game lounge. There’s a pool table and dartboard, and framed playbills and movie posters are hanging on the wall. On the other side of the basement, there’s a sofa and two armchairs.
We sit on the sofa.
“Whose turn is it?” Tony asks. Another game of questions is about to begin. Tony and I have made this our ritual every time we’re together.
“It’s your turn,” I say.
“You sure?” He leans back on the sofa and stretches his legs out.
I realize how close we are sitting, and I get a tidal wave in my stomach. “I’m positive. It’s your turn.”
“Okay, here’s my question,” Tony says. Then he asks, “Do you know how much I like you?” He says this as if he’s asking me what time it is.
I can’t even open my mouth to answer.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he says. “Well, I do. And I have since the first day we talked.” Tony turns to me, scoots even closer to me so there is no space between us. “I know it’s your turn,” he says. “But can I ask another question?”
I still can’t speak.
“Do you like me as much as I like you?”
What happened to questions about favorites and hobbies? I guess we’re past that.
“I can’t,” I say in a soft whisper. “I can’t.”
Tony scoots back. “You and Devin don’t seem—”
“We’ve known each other our entire lives,” I tell him.
“You didn’t answer my question. I asked you if you liked me as much as I like you.”
I know I didn’t answer his question, but I feel like he needs to understand that with Devin there’s history.
Tony starts laughing. “I’ve never seen you speechless. You always—always—have something to say.”
I smile. And even though I know the answer to his question, I just can’t bring myself to answer him.
Tony puts the DVD in and hits the Play button. “I’ll let it go … for now,” he says.
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe how happy I am that it is.
We must watch five episodes and just as the credits roll, I blurt out, “I don’t like him.” It’s a declaration. “I don’t.” The second time I say it, I believe myself even more.
“Then why did you say you can’t?” Tony is trying to sound neutral, like before. But I can hear a twinge of frustration in his voice. Frustration or maybe sadness. Sometimes they sound the same.
“I—it’s just how it’s supposed to be,” I tell Tony. And then, as if the words can’t help themselves from spilling out of my mouth, I say, “I’m not supposed to like you.” I cover my mouth quickly and gasp, trying to inhale the words back in but it’s too late. “What I meant was—”
“Because I’m white?”
“No. I-I didn’t mean that.” I get choked on my words. They are tangled and twisted on my tongue and nothing is coming out right. I take a deep breath. My tongue betrays me again, and before I can tell it not to, it says, “Tony, I like you. Okay? I like you a lot. Even though I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to like me? What does that mean?”
Now no words will come.
“If I like you and you like me, what’s the problem?”
There is no easy answer to his question.
“It’s not the fifties, you know.” Tony takes my hand. And those feelings return, my hiccuping heart, the tidal waves in my belly. This time I don’t push them away. Instead, when his lips touch mine, I kiss them back. Tony’s fingers play in my hair. The skinny twists wrap around his fingers. Has he ever touched a black girl’s hair? How do I feel in his hand?
The basement is lit by a lamp in the corner. Upstairs, I can hear footsteps walking in and out of rooms. I back away from Tony. “What if your mom comes down here?”
“She won’t.” Tony continues kissing me.
“What about your dad?”
“He won’t.” Tony pulls me closer to him.
I have lost time. Kissing Tony starts and stops and starts again until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Hours have passed, and the only reason I wake up is because I hear noise upstairs. Footsteps walking again, and then a voice. “Tony? Are you down there?” Tony’s dad is standing at the doorstep. Tony jumps up. “Uh, yeah, I’m … yeah. Watching TV still.”
My blurry eyes adjust on the digital clock. It’s midnight.
“Just checking.” Tony’s dad doesn’t walk away. I can feel him standing there at the top of the stairs. Tony and I stay still. I try not to breathe too hard. A few minutes pass, and Mr. Jacobs closes the door and walks away.
Tony gets up from the sofa. “I, uh, you should get home,” he says. He takes his arm from around me and gets up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you here so late.”
I am already getting my story together for Mom and Dad. I’ll tell them I was with Essence, that Malachi dropped me off. I get my stuff together and follow Tony upstairs. Instead of walking up both flights of stairs, Tony stops at the back door and opens it. “I’ll walk you across the street,” he whispers.
“That’s okay. I’m fine.”
He gives me his “are you sure?” look.
“Really. I’m fine.”
Tony kisses me once more. Soft.
As soon as I step outside, the cold hits me and what happened tonight feels exposed. My feet crunch the snow as I walk from his backyard to the front. The streetlights create shadows on the leftover snow, and I can tell that a cat has walked this way. His paw prints create a path toward my driveway. I cross the street.
I tiptoe in my house and make it to bed without waking anyone. Once I’m in bed, I am wide awake. All I can think about is Tony, his lips, our kiss. And I feel really silly admitting this, but as I wait to fall asleep, I whisper his name over and over.
Tony Jacobs.
Tony Jacobs.
Tony Jacobs.
And I like how the n kisses the roof of my mouth. How my lips open wide to pronounce the o. His name is a sweet lullaby.
Tony Jacobs.
Tony Jacobs.
Tony Jacobs.
Chapter 32
I’m supposed to see Essence today. On my way to the bus stop, I walk past Devin’s block. I stand on the corner, knowing I need to turn right, walk to his house, tell him. But before I do that, I stand a bit longer. It is raining, and the slushy snow that was piled at the curb is dissolving even more. I breathe in, out, turn right.
Devin lives on a dead-end street. Cars accidentally turn onto this block, and the drivers soon realize they can’t get where they want to go. It is a street of mistakes, a disappointment. His house is at the end of the block, hidden behind untamed bushes. The grass is stiff. Even though there’s a gate around his house, the latch is broken, so I just walk up to the porch and knock on the door because the doorbell doesn’t work.
I knock a few more times but no one comes to the door. And I know it’s the cowardly thing to do but I go into my purse and take out a piece of paper. Yes, I could call or wait until I see Devin face-to-face, but this is easier. I write him a letter, telling him that I can’t be in a relationship with him. I leave out the part about me thinking we don’t have much in common other than being black and growing up in the same neighborhood. I leave out the part about having so much fun with Tony, about how we laugh and how we both are motivated to make a difference at Richmond. And I definitely don’t tell him about the kiss. For all Devin knows, I’m busy with school and college applications and I just don’t have time. He’ll understand that.
I fold the paper, put his name on it, and slide it in his mailbox. A car drives onto the street. I think maybe it is his aunt coming home. But I am wrong. The car pulls into the driveway and backs up, turning around so it can go back to Jackson Avenue.
I walk away, leaving this dead-end street.
On the bus, halfway to Essence’s house, my phone v
ibrates in my pocket. I take it out, see Devin’s name flashing on the screen. I don’t answer.
Chapter 33
I am in the den when the doorbell rings. Dad calls out, “I got it!” So I don’t bother to get up. But then I hear Devin’s voice, so I go to the door and crack it open, just enough so I can peek through to make sure it’s him.
Just as I’m about to close the door and hide, Mom sees me. “Devin’s here,” she says. “Your dad is finally finishing my sewing room today. They’re painting the walls.”
“Oh, uh, that’s, that’s good. ’Bout time, huh?” I haven’t told anyone that I broke up with Devin. This probably isn’t a good time.
Mom looks at me like she’s trying to figure something out. “You’re not going to come and say hello? I hear he has good news.”
I come out and walk with Mom to the kitchen. Dad is smiling so hard, I am sure his cheeks will hurt later. He kisses me on my forehead. “I can’t believe you kept this from me, Maya.”
I look at Devin.
Devin stutters, “Oh, uh—no, she, I didn’t tell her yet.”
Dad steps back, looks at both of us. “Sorry I ruined the surprise.”
Devin says, “It’s okay.” He looks down at the floor.
Mom looks at me, her face confused. “Well, aren’t you going to congratulate him? It’s not every day a student gets a full ride to Morehouse College.”
I don’t even realize the tear rolling down my cheek until she hands me a napkin. I hear her whisper to Dad that they should leave, and when they do, I reach out to Devin, take his hand. He pulls me into himself and we hug. Tight. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper. “And I’m so sorry I—I still care, I just—”
Devin wipes my tears. “Don’t apologize. I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m busy with school, too. Senior year is hectic,” he says. “But maybe we can try it again in Atlanta.”
I don’t know if I should ruin this moment for him. It’s not fair to make this about me, about us, when really it should be about him accomplishing the thing he worked so hard for.
