Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility) (4 page)

“You will never believe…” was my response and as I oddly and freely began informing her of the events that had taken place.

“No, you’re staying here until either you get ready to go back home or you start classes…” Michelle demanded after gasping at the conclusion of each detail. That’s all I needed to hear. That’s how my relationship with Michelle was fashioned; I could share anything with her and not have to worry about judgment.

The next morning rolled around
. I hadn’t slept a wink but rose just before dawn. Grandmother offered me breakfast just to have me refuse. That morning I did a little laundry to prepare for my departure and spent the remaining hours with my baby sister. Nine o’clock rolled around and I headed out for Trust Fund Bank of New York. I walked to the nearest branch to my grandparents’, which was seven miles. I got there and immediately spoke with a teller. I recalled the lady who assisted in opening the account telling me to always have identification present and the account number when I need to make a withdrawal. The only problem was that I didn’t have an account number; I’d left all that paperwork at home.

“Oh, you don’t need your account number. Just write
the last four digits of your social security number on this piece of paper and I can access your account.” I smiled with instant relief upon receiving that information.

After downloading the account information she said, “Well
, ma’am, you have $28,532 available in your account. How much would you like to withdraw?”

I tried desperately to conceal my every emotion. I didn’t know O was making
that
kind of money! My mouth dried making it difficult for me to speak.

“All of it
,” I managed with trembling limbs. You would think I was robbing the bank with the amount of adrenaline rushing through my body.

“Okay, if you mean you would like to close your account you can speak with a floor representative located over there.” The teller pointed in the direction directly across from the counter.

My heart beat double time rapid as I ambled over to a robust woman with an olive complexion who smiled and appeared as she was expecting me.

“What is the reason for closing the account
, ma’am?” The representative with the nametag
Tami
displayed across the right side of her chest.

“Because I’m moving,” was the only explanation that escaped my lips, I was beyond nervous.

“Out of state?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions? Are you FBI or something?” I retorted.

“Oh, no
, ma’am.” The rep responded, embarrassingly. Her cheeks turned a rich shade of crimson. “These are standard questions we ask to those clients who wish to close their accounts. They are for customer service purposes.”

I just wanted to give her
whatever information she needed to get me out of there so that I could make my train on time. The idea of leaving Jersey behind seemed like the dream that would never happen on the slowed clock that ticked in my head. I endured the slow motion of my departure but it happened, within an hour from leaving the bank, I was on my way down to North Carolina to start a new chapter in my life.

I didn’t care what was
ahead; it had to be a hell of a lot better than that of my former life. One thing I promised myself was to never trust more than a person at a time. I also vowed to never love a man so freely. Between my mother’s gullibly infused love for my undeserving father that failed her at every turn and my youthful naiveté trust in O, I felt affliction that I never knew existed. I could swear the acute spikes of pain that flared in my chest at the thought of Samantha, Eric, O, Chyna, Akeem, Keysha, and J-Boog went far beyond emotions, it was physiological. But it was over; I would make sure of it.

Rayna

“When are you going to put that book away? You’ve been in here all night, girl!” Michelle admonished, standing in the threshold of my bedroom door. I knew she was antsy, waiting for me to finish with my studying so that we could hit the streets. “Girl, what are you gonna do after I leave?” she continued.

I was laid out at the foot of my bed with my feet splayed at the head and my books spread out in front of me. With narrowed eyes
, I glared at her impatience. Michelle was nearly done with her undergraduate studies; I’d had another year to go.

It was t
hree years later and I was a junior in college. Michelle was preparing to graduate in three weeks and move back out to California. Since I’d left Jersey that June three years prior, I would only return to visit Caldwell Prison to visit Akeem. I would schedule my flights around his hourly visits and be on my way back to the Carolinas within the blink of an eye.

I never contacted anyone from home, only Akeem and occasionally Chyna and my grandparents. Akeem would always fill me in on the happenings of the hood. I had no idea where O was
, though Akeem did. As far as I was concerned, it was over. According to Akeem, it was Keysha who told O the lie about J-Boog and me messing around. I recalled people telling me not to trust everyone. Akeem also informed me that LaTavia had mailed a baby shower invitation to our apartment, out of malevolence, six weeks after I’d left. The baby did belong to O. They had been sleeping together for months, few people knew.

Keysha was another one of O’s bedding victims. Keysha wasn’t his choice; he hated sleeping with his girl’s best friend but she
blackmailed him. She told him that if he didn’t comply with her wishes, she’d tell me everything she knew about his late night creeping. She’d especially tell about the time when he wouldn’t have sex with me for over a month because he had gotten crabs from an older girl named Lisa. So he fucked her two or three times and when he refused to continue she told him a lie that would permanently scar him. She told him that I’d been sleeping with J-Boog, hence his fatal confrontation. Hypercritical, yet true.

Akeem would encourage me to contact our mother
—
let the past be the past
is what he’d always say. I tried to explain it wasn’t that simple and not go much further than that. But the truth of the matter was that my mother, Samantha, represented a dark aspect of life that I didn’t want to revisit. It was one thing to know your mother got high, but it was a disgrace to know your one and only true love was her supplier. Yes. That was the reason why Akeem grew less supportive of my and O’s relationship. He had gotten wind of the news but had no proof. That night of the shooting, Akeem and J-Boog were going to confront O anyway. Unfortunately, O got to J-Boog first.

No one but Akeem could get in touch with me. I’d made arrangements for Chyna to visit me a handful of times but that would eventually cease. For the most part, Chyna loved being with
our grandparents and had become a part of their world as much as she was theirs. My mother, Samantha, on the other hand was still struggling to get clean. The last I’d heard she was moving out of the Malcolm X Housing Projects, but I had no knowledge of it ever happening. 

As for my father, Eric, he visit
ed Akeem a few times when he was first incarcerated. From what Akeem would speak of it, the two were very distant during each visit, but I’m sure at the prompting of my grandmother, Eric felt that the least he could do was visit his son who he basically abandoned on unredeemable soil.

There was no way that I could believe that O forgot about the account he had established and maintained in my name. I’d just hoped he figured after all the turmoil he put me through, I deserved every dime and then some. He did, however, want to know of my whereabouts. Akeem had heard through the prison walls that he put word out
, but nothing had come up for years. O learned from his cousin who was a friend of Akeem’s that only Akeem knew where I was and he was tight lipped about it. My father never attempted to reach out to me, furthering my fury for him.

As for me
, I was a new creature. College did me very well and knowing Michelle was equally as beneficial. The first thing I had to work on was my vocabulary. Every third word out of my mouth had become one of profanity or some sort of broken idiom since my ordeal back in Jersey. My vocabulary had to be lengthened to communicate articulately with professors and other intellectual students. Being from the hood was less evident with me than most girls with the same humble beginnings. With the help of Michelle, I worked very hard to create a new identity. I wanted to disassociate myself from my past, totally. But there were still a few nasty habits that were difficult to part with.

O
ne late May night, Michelle, April, another friend named Britni and I had gone to a club in Greensboro called
Night Life
. Michelle knew Britni and April from California. They somehow ended up at Duke together, so by mere association, I’d hang out with them from time to time.

I had created fashion awareness among my peers in North Carolina. If I’d learned anything in high school in Jersey it was how to dress. I wore a pair of
Calvin Klein blue denims with a Louis Vuitton silk scarf, which belonged to Michelle, wrapped around my upper torso leaving my arms and shoulders exposed with a pair of gold Nine West stilettos to complement the ensemble.

I’d always been in shape growing up because of sports, but my body had formed beautifully now that hormones had taken
over and weight settled in the right places. No longer did I run daily and I had begun eating more socially. I did, however exercise several times a week and was conscientious of what I ate. All of these behaviors were learned by association and taking science and nutrition courses during my tenure at school.

I loved the club and everything it brought with it.
I usually sat alone quietly, absorbing the humid, smoky atmosphere. I loved it. I would order two drinks to satisfy my alcoholic appetite and just observe the other patrons who played the dance floor. I would occasionally get up to cut a move, but generally I’d survey the environment. This particular night as I sat with my back turned to half the bar, watching the dance floor while nodding my head to the rhythm, I felt someone tapping my shoulder. 

It annoyed the hell out of me causing me to swivel my stoop to the individual. “Can I help you?” I hissed to the
mildly handsome gentleman inappropriately attempting my attention.

“I’m sorry. Would you like to dance?” His
eyes were a mix of green and hazel, and his clear caramel skin glowed even amidst the smoke clouds in the dim lighting. He had fairly handsome features from what I could make out, but I knew instantly that his exotic eyes would make up for any shortcomings his features may or may not have yielded. I’d soon learn the gentleman’s name was Tyquan.

“Why should I dance with you?” I was still perturbed by his lack of finesse.

“Well, why don’t we dance and you’ll see.” Tyquan winked. It was corny, but in a cute way.

I’d become accustomed to the guys I encountered not possessing the style and approach that I’d grown familiar with from home. I didn’t have much else going on at that time so I decided to warm up to him. I thought to myself,
He’s sort of handsome and I’ve finished my drinks. Hell, ain’t nothing but herbs in here anyway. Let me get it while it’s good.

“Okay.” I grabbed his hand while rising from my seat.

As I danced with Tyquan, we got past all the formalities of names, where we were from, and the little cute jokes that guys told to break the ice.

Tyquan was from Atlanta. He moved to North Carolina to be closer to his ailing
grandmother in Cary. He also had family in the Greensboro area. He had two children, both living in Florida with their mothers.
Yes, two baby mommas
. I didn’t speak too much about myself other than being from Jersey and attending Duke. Things got quiet providing the opportunity for other senses, I began to smell his cologne that made my nipples hard.

“Mmmmmm… Obsession huhn?

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Tyquan giggled.
So corny.

“That’s one of my many talents.”

“Oh yeah? What are some others?” Tyquan quizzed.

“
What the fuck
?” trilled from somewhere behind me. The voice was familiar but my buzz coated my sharp reasoning.

I turned to find Michelle who wore an expression of total shock as she was waiting for an answer from the girl across from her. I later learned the girl purposely bumped into Michelle and caused her to spill her drink all over her white outfit. The girl gave Michelle an unapologetic glower. My heart began to race in my chest and instinctively I dropped my arms from Tyquan’s shoulders
; my mood shifted gears. I hopped through the crowd to Michelle’s side and recognized the girl from a few pictures I’d seen. The girl was Tommy’s, Michelle’s current fling, ex-girlfriend. Michelle had been having problems with her, but never to this altitude. 

“What the fuck is going on here,
Shelly?” I fumed with fire in my eyes.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out!” Michelle stood awaiting an answer from the girl.

“Who is dis?” Tiny, Tommy’s ex, snapped. Tiny was short and chubby, a far cry from Michelle. Beauty is subjective, but desired body shapes usually hold a pattern. Michelle was slender and curvy in the hips and Tiny was shaped like a damn penguin, even wobbled.

“This is the bitch whose about to put her foot in yo’ ass if you don’t apologize to the lady for fucking up her Chanel setup
,” I demanded knowing damn well Michelle was not wearing Chanel. All you could hear from the crowd was, “Ooooo!”

“Whatever. Ain’t nobody doing shit to Tiny
,” the penguin scoffed.

“Okay,”
my voice remained leveled. I backed away and pulled Michelle into the bathroom to check on her. Before we walked into the bathroom, I asked Britni who came to the club with us to watch Tiny and her girls so they wouldn’t leave before we returned. “We’ll be right back.”

I hauled Michelle into the bathroom where two other friends, Tonia and April followed. They were all wo
ndering what I had up my sleeve.

“How is she going to make a threat and then walk away?” one girl
, Tonia, murmured thinking I didn’t catch it.

“I know Rayna is from Jersey and all, but I don’t wanna get into no trouble. I hope Michelle just forgets what happened and we all go right home
,” is what April tried whispering as well. For some reason they were reluctant to express those thoughts to me.

“You alright?” I asked as I closely examined Michelle’s face. I knew she was beside herself in the state of humiliation.

“I can’t believe that bitch did that! Ooooh! I wish Tommy was here! He would have gone off on her!” Michelle cried sounding as if she was going to hyperventilate.

“Yeah, well Tommy ain’t here. I am and that bitch is about to catch a beat down. What you think she’s five feet two inches at one hundred eighty five pounds?” I asked while removing my jewelry and finger combing my hair into a ponytail.

They were looking at me as if I were an animal. Where I come from what happened was a sign of disrespect that was acted out publicly so it should be handled publicly. I thought that if this country bumpkin and her girls got away with this, there would be others testing
us in no time. Michelle believed that Tommy should handle that, I believed that Tommy didn’t have a strawberry martini stain on his new shirt so it wasn’t exactly his beef anymore. I knew the girls weren’t habituated to this behavior; it was a culture shock to even see me behave as if the woman had hit
me
. In my opinion, the only reason people should fight would be because they were hit, anything else was uncivilized. I knew Michelle’s beliefs were identical to the other girls’, but she dare not share them. Michelle knew that as much as I had changed from the first time I’d met her, I was still Rayna and that was a girl from the hood who didn’t take any shit.

“Michelle
, I know that you ain’t no fighter so I’m gonna take this one.” I gazed in Michelle’s fearful eyes that were now emerald green. I knew she’d preferred going right home and bypassing it all but I couldn’t drop it. “The only thing that I ask from you is that if somebody jumps in, ya’ll pick up a stick, rock or whatever and knock them the hell out!” I shot April and Britni an admonitory glance with a “matter-of-fact” glare. “If ya’ll don’t intend on helping, leave. But when I see you, I am busting your ass!”

The opposing team of girls walked outside and talked amongst themselves, making threats as to what they were going to do. A few of the girls looked as afraid as April and Britni. Tiny yelled out, “So what y’all wanna do?”

Deep down inside Tiny didn’t think I had the heart to let anything go down. She thought that Michelle’s whole crew was as meek as she was.  But she had to offer something before leaving.

“We ‘bout to bang out…me and you, fam!” I declared to Tiny.

“Me and you? This your girl beef, not yours.” Tiny brows were knitted. I could tell she really wanted a taste of Michelle, but not if I could help it.