by Landis Lain
Spanish. She called me pretty and shook her head when she met me.”
“That’s interesting,” said Dr. Michelle.
“I didn’t realize,” said Sasha. “I let him cost me my friendship with Gabby. I was stupid.”
“In order to have a friend, you have to be a friend.”
“That’s why I have none,” said Sasha. “I was a terrible friend.”
“Maybe you’ll make some when you start college next week,” said Dr. Michelle. “Are you excited?”
Sasha looked at her with wide eyes. “Terrified.”
VICTIMIZED
Sept. 9,
Beauty is a paradox. I’d rather be invisible than beautiful. Beautiful gets a butterfly pinned to a board in a museum, transfixed for all time. I know, I saw one in the museum on campus. It was called a black swallowtail and looked like black velvet with daubs of periwinkle on the bottom of its wings. But it was still dead.
Pretty should be a cuss word. When I lived at the shelter, I started pulling my hair up in a tight bun and wearing baggy clothes. There wasn’t much else to wear when I kept getting bigger and had no money. Being pregnant was the worst. It drove Mama crazy when I kept the baggy look after I had Ricky. She said I looked like a bag lady, but I feel safer in my big clothes. No flowing princess locs or pretty wings to attract attention. On campus, it’s super casual. Nobody cares what you wear. I thought I could walk around free. I did not want to attract any more scavengers. They wouldn’t see me if I dressed in mild mannered reverse princess alter-ego gear. It’s just a matter of time before beauty attracts a hungry predator. It is like being fresh meat sitting in a hyena cage. But for a predator, it’s a scent thing, too.
“Hey, sweet thing, can I talk to you?”
Sasha sped up.
She was walking on Michigan State’s campus, from the administration building back to Spartan village. It was a beautiful fall day; the second since Sasha moved in to the adult housing project that was connected to MSU. She’d had to get financial aid information. She’d already been to the bookstore to get her books. The campus was bustling with new and returning students. Sasha was just passing Holden Hall, one of the dorms.
“Hey! What perfume are you wearing? You smell so good.”
Sasha didn’t even glance around. She needed to get back to Spartan Village so that she could pick up Ricky from his first day of day care. Sasha had gotten a job at the daycare center so that her costs would be reduced. She started work next week when classes started.
“Hey,” the young man stepped in front her, forcing her to halt.
“Excuse me,” said Sasha. Fear stabbed her gut. She glanced around and looked up as they flanked her. Tall with the slender muscular body of youth, the three young men were around eighteen. The white one had a blond Mohawk and wore a green MSU t-shirt and cargo shorts. The one with the ebony skin was wearing a white Spartans baseball cap to match his white Spartans shirt and blue jean shorts. The third boy had a sandy colored afro and wore glasses. He too had on a green MSU t-shirt and cargo shorts. Sasha sidestepped. They stepped with her, one front-facing her and one on either side of her.
“Hey, I’m Kelvin,” said white t-shirt. “What’s your name?”
“I really don’t have time to talk,” said Sasha, her throat tight.
“Just tell me your name,” he said. “You are so beautiful.”
“None of your business.”
Kelvin fell into step beside her.
“Go away!” sand Sasha.
“Dang,” said afro, walking backwards. “How rude. I’m Arvid and this is Troy.”
“I don’t care,” said Sasha, speeding up. “I’ve got stuff to do and I don’t want to talk to you.” The boys followed, heckling her. She started to run but they loped along as a pack, and easily kept pace with her.
“Need your name and number,” said Kelvin, blowing her a kiss.
Finally, winded, Sasha tripped on the train tracks and staggered to a stop.
“Just leave me alone,” she said, panting.
Arvid reached over and plucked the book out of her hands.
“Give that back,” she yelled in frustration. She grabbed at the book and he tossed it to Kelvin. She whirled, and he tossed it to Troy. They ran through the trees and she followed, seething with fear.
“We just want to know your name,” said Kelvin. He tossed the book to Arvid. Sasha ran toward Arvid, rage building as they conducted the impromptu monkey in the middle game. She was dizzy with loathing; ready to give up and just run away but she was certain she couldn’t outrun the boys. Who knew what they might do to her if she ran.
“Are these boys bothering you, Miss?”
They whirled to face the man standing a few feet from them, backlit by the late afternoon sun, and abruptly went still. He was older, taller than any of the boys and much broader through the shoulders. He was wearing green running shorts, black cross trainers and a baggy black sleeveless t-shirt with USMC blazoned across the chest in red and gold letters. He had a sculpted long runner’s face overlaid with smooth snicker bar brown skin, high cheek bones and black eyes. His close cropped black hair completed the compelling picture.
“Hey, dude,” said Arvid, sticking out his chest. “Mind your business. We’re just trying to talk to the lady.”
“Not what it looked like to me,” he said, smiling with gleaming white even teeth. “So why don’t ya’ll go play with a little girl who actually wants to play? I’m sure there are plenty of them on campus.” His voice was deep and smooth.
“It’s a free country,” said Troy, Mohawk quivering with indignation. “We were just fooling around with her.”
“Maybe her sense of humor is not up to ya’ll, today,” said black t-shirt, folding muscular arms across his chest.
“There are three of us and only one of you,” said Troy. “Mind your business.” He poked his finger at black t-shirt. The testosterone level ratchetted up at warp speed. Black t-shirt stilled, and the congenial, almost friendly expression wiped from his face as he contemplated the three boys. Menace wafted off him in waves. Sasha gasped and took a step back.
Black t-shirt took two steps to his right and reached to his side, where there was clump of small trees and vegetation. He wrapped both hands around a sapling. Muscles, bunching, rippling and straining, he slowly pulled the sapling out of the dirt and tossed it, roots first, on the ground at the boys’ feet.
“Dang,” said Kelvin, eyes round. He eyed the U.S. Marines tattoo marring the gleaming brown muscles on black shirt’s left bicep and backed up a step.
“You were saying?” Marine Tattoo dusted off his hands.
“Dude,” said Kelvin. “You swole. You play football?”
“No.”
“We don’t want no trouble, man,” said Arvid, slowly backing away.
“You should apologize,” he said. “And give the lady back her book.”
“Yeah, give the girl her book,” said Kelvin. He smacked Troy on the arm.
Troy held out the book. Sasha snatched it out of his hand. The boys turned to walk away.
“I said apologize.” Marine Tattoo took a step toward them. The boys threw a quick sorry over their shoulders and sprinted back toward the dormitory.
Marine Tattoo turned to Sasha.
Her eyes were big. “Did you just pull up a tree?”
He flashed a wicked grin.
“It’s a big weed,” he said. “I work grounds crew. The school had it marked for extraction. And the ground was already disturbed, so it came up easily. With all the other vegetation, the three idiots didn’t notice.”
“Oh,” said Sasha. “But still, that was crazy.”
“You okay?”
“Yes,” said Sasha. She glanced at the retreating backs of the three boys. She took a big breath and sighed. “They were so stupid.”
“They are boys,” he said. “Young, dumb and full of…” He broke off as Sasha winced and stomped away from him. He caught up to her.
&nb
sp; “Sorry about that,” he said. “I’m trying to give up the trash mouth. The Marines was full of it.”
Sasha shrugged.
“It’s a free country,” she said, parroting Troy. “You can say what you want.”
He paced alongside her.
“Yeah, I know, but it was…”
“Gross,” said Sasha. “I’ve heard it before.” She turned to walk away.
“You are welcome,” he said. Sasha turned back to him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Can I walk with you?” he asked. He fell into step beside her. Sasha could feel her skin tingle, he was so fine. Tall. Dark. Dangerous. And swole. She shook off the feeling. This was how it always started.
This is how they get you!
“I live in Spartan Village,” he said, pointing.
“I live there, too,” she said, reluctant to give even that much information. He held out his hand.
“My name is Suleiman Richardson,” he said. “I’m a freshman.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be a freshman?”
He smiled. “I was in the Marine Corps for four years. So, yeah, I’m old. I’m 24. You gonna leave me hanging?”
Sasha looked at his outstretched hand for a moment and took it reluctantly. His warm, slightly calloused hand engulfed hers completely.
“Sasha Anderson,” she said, letting go quickly. “I’ll be twenty-one my next birthday. I’m a freshman, too.”
“Hi, Sasha Anderson,” he said, with a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. Pretty name for a pretty lady.”
Sasha rolled her eyes.
Here it comes.
“Wow,” said Suleiman. “That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten that reaction.”
“I don’t really like compliments,” said Sasha. “They usually mean somebody wants something from me.”
“That’s way cynical for such a young lady,” he said seriously. Sasha shrugged.
“So, I thought true freshman had to live in the dorm?” he asked. They stopped for the red light at Harrison Road. The light changed, and they crossed the street.
“Not if they have special circumstances,” said Sasha.
“I lived out here last year, too,” he said. “The dorm drove me straight nuts. I took a few months to get used to civilian life and then signed back up for school.” He rattled off his address, which was several buildings away from hers. He pointed out the building he lived in, which Sasha would have to pass every time she went to her own apartment. She lived further back in the complex, near the daycare building.
Sasha nodded and said nothing, taking note of his apartment location, in case she had to duck out of sight to avoid Suleiman in the future.
“Hey, you want to grab a bite to eat or something?”
“No.”
Suleiman winced. “That was harsh.”
Sasha stopped and faced him. He stopped, too. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She glanced around, noting that the farther they walked from campus, the less people there were. She and Suleiman were isolated for the moment. She did not want to jump from the pan to the flames.
“Look, Suleiman,” she said, looking up at him. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in the offing,” he said.
“No offense. I don’t mean to be rude…”
“Which means you are going to,” he quipped.
“I’m not interested in whatever you are about to suggest,” said Sasha. “I’ve got a kid to take care of and I don’t have time to play. I don’t want to talk to you, eat with you, go out with you, nothing, okay?”
He held up his hands in surrender.
“Understood,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “When you strive to be inoffensive, you go all the way don’t you? I was just being friendly.”
“I ended up in a wrestling match with the last dude who invited me out to eat as a friend,” said Sasha, resuming her walk. “Guys never take no for an answer.” He didn’t follow.
She walked faster toward her apartment. She could feel his eyes boring into her back but didn’t turn back to look at him. This was going to be her life.
Alone.
ENRAGED
September 21,
I hate my life! That is my first thought when I wake up every morning. And then Ricky cries and the day catapults into nonstop class, baby throw-up and apple juice at the daycare job, and then, I’ve got to get knee-deep in my books if I want to pass, let alone get good grades. How do I write papers on gentrification of old neighborhoods and figure out the atomic weight of carbon when the baby is howling? Who cares about the atomic weight of carbon? MSU campus is huge and my classes are all over the place. I stagger home through the weather, which is getting chilly, grab Ricky from daycare, fix something to eat, study and fall into bed. Then I get up and do it again. Adulthood is not for kids.
I remember my Daddy and I used to sit and dream about what life was going to be like for us after he hit the lottery. Hitting the lottery should not be a goal; it’s a dream. Call me stupid but I
just realized that if he was a forty-year-old man still dreaming about what his life would be like if – then why should I expect any more than what
I’ve got at twenty? Kids should not be taught to dream about magic. It just makes reality like
sticking your tongue on an ice cube. First, it’s
cool and soothing. Then the numbness creeps in. The freezer burn comes later and lasts forever. Nothing worked out like I dreamed it would. How did I get from five-year-old princess….to this?
“You don’t think you should dream, eh?”
“Not when I’m not sure I’ll ever get where I want to,” said Sasha. She sighed. “Stuff is just so stupid.” She sat in brooding silence for about five minutes. She looked at her feet.
“Do you want to talk about it or should I just leave you to your pout?” asked Dr. Michelle, sounding amused.
“I’m supposed to be grown,” protested Sasha. “Grownups can’t pout!”
“And yet, you are giving me a very grand rendition of a major one,” said Dr. Michelle. “In my opinion, a good sulk should be indulged in occasionally. Do it, then let it go.”
“Sometimes I just want to scream,” said Sasha. “Just scream and scream.”
“What about?”
“I got stuck with the baby,” said Sasha, feeling bitter. “And I didn’t do anything more than he did. He got to go on with his life and not look back.”
“The old ‘maternity is a matter of fact and paternity is a matter of opinion’, huh?”
“Yeah, Mamma’s baby, Daddy’s maybe,” snarled Sasha. “It’s just not fair. Why is stuff so unfair?” She got out of the chair and paced around, hands clenched. Dr. Michelle watched her.
“Fair is a concept in a book,” said Dr. Michelle. “It is an ideal. We are dealing with reality and human beings.”
“So?”
“Human beings don’t always play fair.”
“I know. I hate that.”
“Then scream.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep,” said Dr. Michelle. “Stand up. I’m gonna time you. You’ve got one hundred seconds.”
She looked at her wrist watch.
“Get to screaming.”
Sasha did. She screamed. She screamed until she ran out of breath.
“That was only thirty seconds,” said Dr. Michelle. “Keep going.”
Sasha sucked in her breath and screamed again. Dr. Michelle finally called time. Sasha was out of breath.
“That was hard,” she panted.
“Feel better?”
Sasha took stock. “A little.”
“I already told you about keeping that balloon too full of air,” said Dr. Michelle. “Gotta let off steam sometimes, eh.”
Sasha slumped into the chair.
“What were we talking about?”
“About why you don’t think you should dream,” replied Dr. Michelle.
“Dreams don’t always come true.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But sometimes, they do,” said Dr. Michelle. “You got your possible dream of Disney with your daddy, didn’t you, even if it wasn’t exactly like you envisioned it?”
“Yeah,” said Sasha.
“Well, then,” said Dr. Michelle.
“What?”
“Maybe you should stop mixing up dreams with reality,” said Dr. Michelle. “There is no limit to what you can dream about doing. But you can’t expect or make anybody else dream exactly like you do, so sometimes reality is different.”
“Oh.”
“Think about changing your attitude about what’s going on in your life,” said Dr. Michelle. “Maybe you can ask for some help.”
“Like what?”
“Like ask your mom to babysit two days a month, so you could have some time to yourself,” said Dr. Michelle. “Make a friend! Stop isolating yourself from people. Then maybe reality won’t seem so daunting.”
“People hurt me.”
“That’s true, sometimes.”
“I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”
“I understand.”
“No.” said Sasha. “You don’t.”
“I will if you tell me.”
“I hate people.”
“Not everyone is your enemy,” said Dr. Michelle. “Try not to go into relationships thinking that everyone is going to hurt you.”
“How can I tell the difference?”
“You can’t if you don’t try.”
PANICKED
September 30
I remember how terrified I was when I figured out that I was pregnant. My mind kept asking how did this happen? The panic started immediately and just escalated. Nobody told me that having a baby was some next-level stuff; that it’s the end of the world as you know it. Then the baby comes in all this pain and blood and screaming, and the drama just ramps up along with diapers and bottles and hemorrhoids. I think, okay, I survived the birth so now things can just go back to normal because people have been having babies for millennia. And then my head got bumped to the fact that there is a new normal where I’m invisible and it is all about the baby. Why did I think invisible was the thing to be? I have no instructions or directions on how stuff is going to go down. I’m terrified all over again because the baby’s plan is not decipherable. Help!
