He looked to his left and noticed her bed. It sat high on risers, covered in cream sheets and a thick duvet. A silver runner ran across the width of it, embellished with gold tassels.
The matching nightstands were mirrored and featured two oversized clear 1970’s retro-style lamps.
“This is nice. Not my style, but nice.”
“Thank you.” She turned to him, something flashing in her eyes. Wrapping her soft, warm hand around his neck, she rose on her toes and pressed her sweet mouth against his. He returned the favor and savored her as their tongues glided against one another. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night,” she said when she broke free, breathless. Lust filled her gaze. “It might be our last kiss, though.”
“Why?”
“Please sit down.” She pointed to one of the chairs. He obliged. “That way, I can dramatically call after you as you run out of my bedroom, down the steps, clutching the banister that needs work. I will then fall to my knees and start bawling when I hear your truck door slam, and your tire wheels squeal as you maneuver frantically out of my driveway. Hopefully, Alexa will choose a good sad song for me while I lick my wounds and discover minutes later that you’ve blocked my number.”
“Would you stop all of this silly bullshit, and just get to it?”
She grimaced, then sat across from him, on the couch.
“Here we go… This is the part where I sit you down and spill my guts, but before that, I feel the ridiculous need to begin by explaining the context. Everything I’m about to tell you is true. You deserve that much.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes nothin’. I’ve never told anyone this except my parents and brother and sister, Axel, and not even they know every single thing that happened. None of my ex-boyfriends or close friends know about it, either. I didn’t want to talk about it. Never had a reason to.”
“Got it. Please, for the love of rice and gravy, just tell me what’s goin’ on without all of this filler. I don’t need any side dishes. The main course alone will do.”
She started picking at her cuticle. “Please let me explain this in my own way… Don’t rush me. Don’t be rude, Axel. I’m serious.”
“I’m not, but damn! Okay, I’m sorry… that was… I just…” He sighed. “Please… just tell me what’s going on.”
She took a long, deep breath. “Anyway, years ago, when I was in college,” she glanced his way, then went right back to that cuticle. “I got involved with someone I shouldn’t have. I was exploring my beliefs at the time, as many people in their late teens and early twenties do, and I was also in a mental state where I was vulnerable.”
“Why were you vulnerable? I was a hellion at that age. Wild and free.”
“Well, instead of enjoying college parties and living it up, I was havin’ some personal issues. I had just broken up with my high school boyfriend—nothing crazy happened, we’d just grown apart—and my parents weren’t getting along. My brother was going through some stuff. He’d gotten in trouble at school, and my sister, who I had been pretty close to, had moved out of town.
“I was a freshman and felt a bit out of place, so on and so on.” She paused, got up, and walked over to a mini fridge. Upon her return, she handed him a bottle of Minute Maid lemonade and opened herself one, too. After taking a big gulp, she continued. “On campus, when I was in a study hall, a man approached me. He looked normal. He was nice looking, actually. Nothing over the top that would make you say, ‘Damn, who is that?’, but attractive enough. He was dressed nicely, too. The thing is though, he had a way about him… an aura. He introduced himself. Explained that he was between classes and had to stop and speak to me. He was an American history and African American studies major, so that got my interest because, as you know, that’s my thing. Long story short, we started talking that day, got a coffee and some bagels at the café, and had a great conversation. He was extremely personable, laid back… and he made me feel comfortable speaking to him.
“Unfortunately, due to my lack of discernment at the time, I didn’t realize he was priming me—trying to see if I’d be appropriate for grooming.” She sighed and bit on her bottom lip before going on. “He had some rather unusual religious beliefs, but he explained that they were part of our culture, of our African ancestors, and that we’d been brainwashed by the White man’s religion.”
“What were his religious beliefs?”
She hesitated while she mulled the question. “It’s complicated, but I would describe his convoluted version of spirituality as a mixture between Judaism, Bahá’í Faith, and Islam, if I had to put a title or description on it. In spite of his eccentric views, I believe most people would have regarded him as quite intelligent. He knew how to slick-talk folks, too. He used actual texts to prove his points, and that could trip some people up. He mixed all of this with African American culture, in order to pull on the pain and emotionalism of the atrocities that had occurred to Black people in this country, in the past, and to this day. Things like, Black people were the original people. I agree with that. The first humans were believed to have come from Africa. He also said, we were kings and queens.