Last Year

The days became routine. I’d get ready, get on the bus and sit in the back. No one would talk to me too much, other than asking to sit together or telling me that they were getting out. The group in the back got smaller and smaller as some started driving while others found rides.

In the mornings, I’d make my way over to where Alicia was. Jeremiah, a friend of ours who I had met in middle school, was always there. Jeremiah was a tough person to decipher. You could tell he was just another black boy caught in the typical life most led in the South, with just the same struggles and traps most black men faced. He grew up with the stereotypical expectations everyone put on him, and he made them come true.

Jeremiah and I talked during the summer, and in those times, I could tell he was just another human trapped in the racial injustice. Peers placed deadlines on him of how and when to be successful. Most times, Jeremiah followed them. It didn’t make him a bad person; he just made bad decisions, and in turn, those decisions changed him into a bad person. If he had cared for the women in his life at some point, he didn’t show it now. If he cared for anyone, he didn’t let it show.

He wasn’t the same Jeremiah when his friends were around, and his friends were around all the time.

It pained me to see him sitting there, acting tough, making crude jokes and touching the girls the way he did because I knew that if he could realize that he could be greater than this cycle, he wouldn’t do any of this. I wished I could change things, but you just can’t save everyone. There he sat, with Alicia on his lap, kissing her while his friends egged them on. One of them grabbed Alicia’s shirt and pulled down hard enough to expose her. She laughed it off, and I sighed, glad I was invisible.

“I wanna see the two of you kiss,” one of Jeremiah’s said to Alicia, motioning with his head towards me. Panic surged inside me and I looked for the way out. Alicia smiled and called me over, and I reluctantly moved over between her and Jeremiah, who promptly placed his hand on my thigh.

“I never got to kiss you when we dated,” she said. Only because you were too busy cheating on me, I thought. It was true; it was with Alicia that I realized I liked women too, and I had loved Alicia like that, but she was too flighty and was gone in a few days. I held on to those few days with hope that I’d feel it again, if not for her, then with another girl.

“We didn’t date for a long time,” I reminded her.

She ignored my comment and went in to kiss me, and I let her, letting my feelings for her surge back. I felt fear, then relief, then calmness when I kissed her. No one here would judge. I pulled away and looked up at her, and found she was already grinning at me.

“She is a damn good kisser. Where did you learn to kiss like that? I thought you were supposed to be the innocent one!” And with that, she was gone, off into some conversation with another guy.

Jeremiah turned to me, with his hand still on my thigh, “How about a little kiss for me?”

I pulled at his hand to remove it. “No, thank you. Can you move your hand?”

“I’ll fucking put my hand where I want to,” and raising his hand, he brought it down hard and quick on my thigh. Pain raised quickly through me, but anger was quicker. I grabbed my things and walked off. No one stopped me, not even Alicia, and it was then that I realized I was just a pawn in their social group, and that my presence meant nothing more than a body occupying space. My worth was determined by what I could give, and there was little I was willing to give up.

My mouth felt dry, and my eyes welled at the sight of the hand print on my thigh. I took a deep breath when exiting the bathroom and walked into the sea of people. It was soothing to feel so little and insignificant when I was so upset. No one paid me any mind, and I was comforted by the lonely privacy.

Classes came and went that Wednesday. I hadn’t talked to Brandon since that Saturday, so I decided to text him during lunch. He didn’t answer, and I told myself that it was because he was busy in school, but even now I had my doubts. I’d given up trying to win him over, and now I was just making desperate attempts to hold on to feeling just a little bit longer.

He texted me back after school. I was seated in the back, in the sweltering heat of early September. My phone was just as hot as outside, and I wondered how hot it could get before overheating. I could feel the pressure of the vibrations, urging me to check the three texts I had just received. It was too many to be an answer to “hope you’re having a good day!”, and I feared the worst.

The bus was filling up with people, but I didn’t notice. I had taken the second to last seat, one of the most important ones, but I didn’t care. Let them be mad at me; maybe I’ll feel something then too.

“I really don’t think this is gonna work out.”

“I don’t want to lead you on, but I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person either.”

“You’re really nice and I really like you, but we’re just not looking for the same thing right now.”

I exited out of the conversation without answering. I drew in a shaky breath, putting on the Arctic Monkeys as loud as it could go as someone sat next to me. I didn’t acknowledge them; I just stared at the album cover, willing the tears to come, but they never did. I felt them inside, hurting, rising, but I couldn’t cry. I was still numb, and nothing scared me more than knowing I was stuck where I was, and that maybe nothing would ever change.

“You like the Arctic Monkeys?” The guy next to me asked.

I looked up to see a pair of blue eyes staring straight at me. It was the same guy who had made the comment about me being Caleb’s girlfriend. He straightened and turned towards me, pushing his backpack underneath the seat.

“Yes, I do,” I answered softly, a small smile playing at my lips. He was by no means the most handsome man I’ve ever seen; at first sight, I mean. The more I looked at him, the more I saw how many strong, nice features he had.

He was a skinny guy, wearing simple shorts and t shirt. His curly hair was a mess in a cute way, and could be considered a small afro. His white skin contrasted his dark hair and blue eyes beautifully. His lips were large and full, and they stretched into an easy smile that made me smile.

“What’s your favorite album?” He asked.

“Um… I really don’t know. I’d say “Suck It and See”, but I haven’t listened to all of it, and it’s only my favorite because it has my favorite song on it.” I motioned towards my phone, and he nodded.

“That’s just my type of music. Have you heard of the Last Shadow Puppets?”

I shook my head at his question. “I really just got into them. I haven’t really explored around them yet. I just put their music on shuffle and add the songs I like.”

“I’m guessing you’ve only mostly listened to their newer album,” he said. He shifted in such a way so that I could see his phone, and we stayed like that for the entire ride. He showed me the bands he liked, and I listened intently. We were close, so close that if I wanted to, I could close the gap between us and touch his arm with mine, but I remained where I was. Conversation never ceased between us, and though his friends tried to pull him away to talk to them, he stayed, excitedly talking about music with me. In truth, some songs weren’t of my taste, but most were good.

“This next stop is mine,” I informed me as he showed me yet another band.

“Alright,” he acknowledged over the roar of the bus’s engine. He shifted his bag to the seat behind him where his best friend, Darren, was. I knew Darren from middle school. Alicia and I had had a best friend who liked Darren, and most time spent with Gwen was trying to get her and Darren together. It never worked.

“What’s your name?” I asked the guy next to me.

“Baylor, and you?”

“Rosaly,” I said with a small smile.

“It was nice to talk with you, Rosaly. Listen to the Last Shadow Puppets and let me know what you think,” he suggested. The bus came to a halt and Baylor sat on Darren’s lap and took him down to the floor, with plenty of sex moans and jokes during it all.

I laughed as I got off the bus. He was a playful guy, everything I envisioned someone I would like not to be. I always pictured myself with a solemn, serious guy, and that I would be the happy one to bring him some light in his life; someone who could take care of me, and in turn, I’d bring happiness to and take care of him, but it never really works that way does it?

My brother came to my room after dinner to talk to me. We talked for a little bit about childish things. He was six years old, and the best thing to ever happen to him. I devoted myself to him, hoping that I could help in any way that I could. I didn’t want him to have the life that I did, in any way, and I would kill to make sure of that.

I’m not saying that my life was hard; I had everything I wanted, I never needed anything, and I had a doting mother, father, and stepfather. However, the guilt of having just that, the guilt of being one of the main causes of my parents’ divorce, the guilt of being my father’s every day reminder of the woman he had loved and lost, the guilt of everything I had and nothing I deserved consumed me every day. As crazy or delusional or irrational as my reasoning may seem to be, a lifetime of being alone with my thoughts led me to see this, and one day I believe I will get over it.

My stepfather found us in my room, our feet in the air, laying on the ground. He told my brother pointedly to go take a shower and left. My brother silently and obediently got up to do so. His company made me feel just a little bit more normal, in the sense that I could once again feel like I used to, but when he left, a feeling of loneliness came over me. I washed it away with a cold shower that chilled me to the bones so the only thing I could think was just that.

I stepped outside to rinse away the cold, and for the first time, the heat didn’t bother me. I didn’t like it, but I was in too good a mood for that to dampen it. I had forgotten all about Brandon, and I was happy for once. I was so caught up on thinking about Baylor, that I even forgot to listen to the band he recommended. I was barely there for dinner, present but with no part in the conversation. I didn’t sleep that night, but I didn’t mind, because for the first time, I had something good to hope for.