“Damn,” I said. Was there really this much fun to be had at the library?
“That’s when he said it,” Tamia whispered.
“What. What did he say?”
“He was stroking me—and I mean stroking me good, like better than I’d ever expect from a damn white boy.” I let out a little laugh and covered my mouth. “And then he said, ‘I knew this black pussy would feel good.’”
“What?” I said a little louder than I should have.
“Exactly, Troy.”
“What did he say? Say that shit again.”
“His white ass said, ‘I knew this black pussy would feel good.’”
I turned to look at Alex, my mouth still hanging wide open. I turned and looked back at Tamia.
“What?”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Hell, I can’t believe it now,” I said. I really couldn’t.
“I mean, I felt like a damn slave girl. Like Halle Berry in Queen. Like he was out at the old slave quarters or something.”
“Getting some of that black-girl juice.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t know, Mia,” I said, running through the situation in my mind. While Alex’s comment was a little out of place, in another place and time…and with someone else…it would’ve been a turn-on for me. “To be honest, I used to call Julian all kinds of black shit in bed.” I laughed. “He called me names too. I loved it.” I grinned slyly. “Nothing wrong with a little Roots bedroom action. I am not afraid to help my man make it to freedom.”
“Now that’s just wrong and nasty,” Tamia said, laughing. “For real, though. I’ll admit that I’ve been called ‘caramel’ and ‘chocolate’ in bed before, but always by brothers. It just felt different coming from a white man.”
“I’m saying, Tamia, I just think maybe you’re being a bit unfair. Alex should be able to appreciate your body, your blackness, just as much as any black man. Hell, he should appreciate it more. Just imagine how that poor white boy felt looking at that big black ass in front of him?” We both laughed. “He must’ve felt like he was at Disney World. It’s a wonder he didn’t climax in the middle of the first stroke.”
“I know, Troy. I guess I just wanted Alex to want me for my mind is all,” Tamia said, still laughing. “Like I didn’t want to feel as if he was just seeing me to experience the whole ‘sex with a black girl’ thing.”
“Tamia, who gets the best grades in this class?” I asked.
“Me,” Tamia replied.
“And who did Alex choose as a study partner last month because she was ‘so brilliant’?”
“Me.”
“And you’re still wondering if he sees your mind? The two of us have known Alex for almost two years that we’ve been in the program together. You two are friends.” I paused. “I’m just saying, make sure you’re not making this about Alex’s color complex, when it’s really about your own insecurities.”
“I know…I know.” Tamia picked up her bag and put her flash cards back inside. “I just can’t seem to put it out of my mind.” When she went to put the bag back down it fell to the side and a little red pill bottle with the words “Stay Up” written across the front fell to the floor.
“‘Stay Up’?” I read, bending over to pick up the bottle. “What’s this?”
“Give me those.” Tamia took the bottle from me and stashed it back in the bag.
“You know that shit is bad for you, Tamia,” I said, looking at her. Our senior year I caught Tamia following four No-Dozes with two scoops of freshly ground coffee (no water) to stay awake to study for a midterm. While it certainly was not odd for any of us to take something to stay up, I noticed that it had become a nightly routine for Tamia and it was really bad for her since her mother had died of a heart condition. Tamia never had symptoms of her own, but her doctor told her it was a possibility and that she should avoid stimulants that affected her heart.
That night Tasha and I cornered Tamia in her dorm room for a 3T Intervention. We didn’t want things to get worse for her. We certainly had problems of our own, as neither of us were quite as focused during the semester as Tamia, but as her girlfriends we decided that we couldn’t sit by and watch her risk her life. We sat up with her for hours, comforting her as she cried and explained that she couldn’t take all the pressure her father was putting on her to be number one in the class (she was number two). She’d promised she would talk to him about it and stop taking the pills right after midterms.
“It’s no biggie,” Tamia said now, putting her bag back down. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t worry about it.”