Should Have Known Better

“No need to feel sorry for me.” Sasha straightened up in her seat and exhaled. “I’m in counseling now and I realize that I’ve been picking the jerks. I need to make better decisions for myself.”

“That’s right, girl,” I said. “There are good men out there.”

“Exactly! Look at Reginald,” she said. “He’s a good guy. Husband. Father. Who would’ve thought you two would’ve lasted this long? It’s been . . . what . . . twelve years since Spelman. Who would’ve thought you’d still be together?”

I looked at Reginald with a soft smile.

Sasha had been there when Reginald was outside of our dorm giving his little speeches about the ailments of the black upper class. I felt sorry for him. I stopped. I thought his ideas were silly, easily disproved, but I was impressed by his belief in the things he was saying. Most of the men I knew only meant what they said for a time, when they were in public, when people were watching. But in Reginald’s eyes, I saw sincerity. When Sasha tried to pull me past him, saying he was just an angry lawn-mower man, I thought I saw someone who loved his people and really wanted what was best. When he finally asked me out, I said yes.

“Who wouldn’t think we’d still be together?” Reginald asked, though he knew exactly what Sasha meant. And any answer she could give would simply indulge him in confirming all of the things he’d always thought about her and “you people” back then.

“I’m just saying, Dawn was seven years younger than you. She was a Spelman girl. There were Alpha brothers across the street at Morehouse just dying to get with our Dawn.”

I laughed, but quickly straightened my face when I saw how Reginald was looking at me.

“No, they weren’t,” I said, brushing her off.

“Oh yes, they were!” she insisted.

“Well, she made a good choice,” Reginald interjected. “Seeing as how they’re all gay and have five baby mamas and want their women to pay for stuff and all—Dawn doesn’t have to worry about that stuff. She has a good man. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yes, babe,” I said.

“Your house is paid for. You don’t have to work. And while your kids aren’t in private schools, they live in a great community and never have to wonder where their next meal is coming from. You have everything a woman could want.”

He smiled and pinched my cheek.

The door to the guest room where Sasha was staying was ajar.

A spare quilt wrapped neatly over my arm, I pushed the door open a little.

“I brought you an extra blanket,” I started before peeking inside and seeing Sasha bent over her suitcase in nothing but a red thong. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I stepped back out quickly and shut the door, embarrassed at my intrusion.

“Oh, it’s OK. Come on in,” Sasha called from inside of the room.

I pushed the door back open, sure Sasha had taken the few seconds alone to put on a T-shirt or robe, but there she was, standing in front of her suitcase looking as if she’d just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret thong photo shoot.

I rubbed my hand against the unpredictable patterns of the quilt my grandmother had made before she died, pulling it against my cotton nightgown. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Sasha was almost naked. I couldn’t remember ever looking like that in my underwear.

“I’m sorry for pushing in. We don’t really have very many unlocked doors around here when we’re changing clothes,” I said awkwardly. “It’s the kids.”

“Oh, I understand.” She slid on a thin red chemise she’d pulled from the suitcase.

“I brought a blanket for you. It gets cold in here at night, even with the weather changing. I thought you might need it.”

“Thanks, soror; always looking out for me.” Sasha came over and took the blanket before kissing me on the cheek. “Stay and chat me up for a bit. I know I won’t be able to sleep after all that debating.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping into the room. “Reginald just gets so caught up . . . and then he goes on and on—”

Sasha had placed red cinnamon-scented candles all around the room. She had jazz playing on her laptop.

“It’s no biggie. He’s fine.”

“You travel with candles?”

“Yes,” Sasha said. “And wine!” She pulled a bottle of red wine from her suitcase and bounced onto the bed laughing.

“I guess that’s a fine way to travel.”