The Other Side of the Pillow

I drove home in silence. No radio on. I was sure that if Winsome were doing the do, she would either be in her bedroom or someplace else. The next morning, I was going to look online for sofas that I liked and that she could afford. I planned to be chilling out in the living room watching my favorite shows on my DVR within the next few days.

Chapter Seven

“Trust is such a huge word. It either makes something or destroys it.”

—Unknown

A few weeks passed and I was still torn and confused, and sounding like one of those insecure women with low self-esteem who write in to advice columns to figure out something that is common sense. Tevin still had not given me any reason to distrust him, and believe me, I was searching for one. He seemed like a perfect man and we all know that true perfection does not exist. Everyone has flaws, dammit. Where were his?

We had been on several dates, and no, he didn’t force me to go. Every time I considered sending his calls to voice mail or blocking him altogether, I couldn’t justify it. Plus, I really did think that he was thebomb.com. What I appreciated about him was that once I had said something about text messaging, he had made it a point to show me attention either in person or via phone. He had never asked me for my email address or asked to connect with me on a social network. In an age when so many people communicate virally, it was a welcomed change.

I had Facebook and Twitter accounts, but I rarely posted anything at all. I was not about to risk my livelihood over posting some foolishness online. Several teachers and principals had failed to recognize that and were fired. They should have been the main ones avoiding doing it, considering that students were getting suspended or expelled for cyberbullying daily. Added to that tragedy was the fact that many of my seniors over the years had lost full-ride scholarships over trying to pretend to be baby gangsters on their pages. Posting themselves smoking weed, holding guns, or even talking crazy and making idle threats had cost many of them their futures. Some of them came from very good homes and their parents—single or married—had struggled to provide them with a stable environment, had attended every PTA meeting and parent-teacher conference, had made sure they completed their homework and that they were attending school. It was truly sad to have to explain to them that all of it was for nothing. That they would have to send their kids to community college instead of driving them to a major university that had previously offered them close to two hundred grand in scholarship money.

So no, hell no, I was not about to get caught up like that. Especially since I was so opinionated, like all Virgos. I

could envision how it all would have gone down. I would have run across something that pissed me off in my newsfeed and ended up in a debate. The only reason I had the accounts was to go on and attempt to prevent some of my staff and students from going too far. I would often pull kids into my office and tell them to take things down before they ruined all of their opportunities. I also had my four guidance counselors constantly on the prowl.

The Internet was a powerful tool for gaining knowledge, following world news, and cutting down on having to fax and send important things via snail mail, but it was also a curse for many who could not control themselves and wanted to capture their fifteen minutes of fame. That was proven by the fact that the African-American site with the most web traffic at the time was WorldStarHipHop where people sent in videos of people acting a fool, and millions of people watched them daily. A lot of them ended up facing charges and jail time behind those videos, especially the parents who taped themselves whipping their children with belts or electrical cords because they had been twerking on Youtube. Instead of punishing them in a responsible way in private, they decided to post a retaliation video of them practically maiming their own offspring to prove a point. Many of them were now proving that point on lockdown while their kids were still twerking and doing them, but with the added malice toward their parents.

There was always drama at Medgar Evers High School. On this particular day, it came in the form of Uniqua Mays, mother of Brian Mays, a junior who had maintained a good GPA all throughout school and was looking forward to applying to Morehouse College in Atlanta in the fall of his senior year.

“Ms. Mays, how can I help you today?” I asked as she sat across from me in an outfit that looked like she had just finished working the pole at The Stadium Club off New York Avenue. “Mrs. Parker said you have some concerns about Brian.” I scanned through his school records. “His midterm report card has him making honor roll yet again.”

“You damn right my boo is making honor roll!”

I wasn’t going to have a lot of patience with her. She already had a fucked-up attitude; she was glaring at me like she wanted to jump me, and I was not that chick. I wanted to ask her what kind of mother calls her son her “boo,” but it was a waste of time. Unfortunately, a lot of single mothers acted like their sons were their men instead of their children. All of that led to them trying to run young women away from them, fearing them fleeing the nest, and leaving them abandoned. The sons either ignored them altogether or allowed the mothers to completely emasculate them. Brian planned to get the hell away from her and now I could see why.

“So, what seems to be the problem then?” I asked, trying to maintain some composure.

“I want him moved to another math class.”

I glanced down at Brian’s records again. “He currently has an A in AP Algebra. Mr. Adkins is one of our best instructors and Brian seems to be—”

“Mr. Adkins is a fag and ain’t no fag going to be teaching my son.” She sat up on the edge of the chair and grasped her fake designer handbag tighter. “Men like him should not be allowed around young boys.”

Oh yes, I’m about to be tested today!

“Ms. Mays, I would appreciate it if you would not use such a nasty and disrespectful term like fag around me. That is very hurtful and inappropriate.”

“What the fuck ever! Is homosexual better?”

I could feel my blood pressure rising. “Yes, that is better, but your delivery is still full of implications. But, to address your main point, Mr. Adkins is an excellent teacher and Brian will remain in his class.”

“So you just gonna sit back and watch that man molest my son and other people’s sons?”

I sighed. “Mr. Adkins has been teaching in DC public schools for more than twenty years and there has never been a single complaint or accusation lodged against him about doing anything inappropriate with a student. You will not come in here and slander his name, nor accuse me of any type of conspiracy to molest children.”

“Well, that’s exactly what the fuck I am doing, bitch!”

It took every ounce of restraint in me not to get up, walk around my desk, and try to knock her block off.

“You will not address me in that tone.” I stood up and walked to the door, then opened it. “You need to leave my office. Not now, but right now.”

She stood up and brushed up close to me. “You’re the principal. You’re supposed to be in charge.”

“I am in charge and I addressed your concern. Brian is not being moved and I will not have any further discussions with you about Mr. Adkins’s sexual preference. It is none of your business and it is none of mine. If you would like to discuss the matter any further, you can contact the school superintendent.”

You can go be his fucking problem!