When You Come to Me, Page 3

  “Sophia?” she asked.

  He nodded, sighed heavily, and reached for his keys. “Jeez, you catch on so quickly…”

  “Last time I checked, I didn’t have a penis…”

  “I didn’t think pretty, innocent freshman girls were allowed to say that word…”

  She pursed her lips and balled her hand into a fist, threatening to hit him. He flinched slightly and only laughed at her.

  “Sorry about that,” he told her. “If I even mentioned the name Natalie, she would have flipped…I’ll tell you now, I don’t have very many girl friends because of her…”

  “Well,” Natalie sighed, playing with the remains of her melted vanilla cake cone. “This was fun while it lasted, right?”

  Natalie got to her feet, tossed the rest of her cone in the trash can nearby, and dusted off her bottom.

  “Do you mind giving me a ride? Or will Sophia have a heart attack? If she calls again, I can do a mean man’s voice…”

  He laughed. “Hopefully, that won’t be necessary…I can definitely take you home…”

  The green Explorer pulled up to Allen dormitory and he killed the engine.

  Looking at her, Brandon said, “Would you like me to walk you up?”

  She smiled, and whispered, “So chivalry isn’t dead…”

  “I’m halfway decent, I suppose…I can park and we can walk...”

  “Why don’t we just call it a night here?”

  He sighed. His eyes indicated that he still wanted to push the issue; instead, he flopped back into his leather seat, gripped the steering wheel and nodded.

  “You independent girls make me sick,” he chuckled. “You make the guys that actually want to do something for you look bad…”

  She opened the door to his car, and stepped out slowly, retrieving her bag in the process. She gave him an expression of a solid thank you and a solid goodbye, figuring in her mind that this would be the last time she’d see this person.

  “Goodnight, Brandon,” she’d said quietly, smiling softly at him.

  “Natalie,” he’d returned, obviously reading her expression, knowing.

  #

  The December frostbitten air kept her inside more often, and she found it a struggle to go to class each morning. The cold weather simply made her uncomfortable. She was relieved when final exams had passed, anticipating the moment when she could return home to Decatur, to her family, to comfort, to safety, to a honey cured ham, sweet potato pie, and collard greens, to slinky red stockings with each family members name on them written in black permanent marker hanging over a humble fireplace, to an off-key rendition of “Silent Night” provided by her drunken Uncle Joe, to helping her younger cousins put out cookies and milk for Santa, and reading them a story before bed, hoping that they slept through the entire night.

  Natalie became friends with three girls who lived on the same floor as she shortly after midterms were done. She knew that they weren’t the kind of friends that would last her, and she could easily admit that their childish antics, especially in the pranks that they played on the boys that lived below them, would be something she wouldn’t be able to stand in the long run. But Brie, short, big-headed and authoritative, Kina, wild and flirtatious, and Jasmine, big, loud, and entertaining, gave her enough laughs that could last her the rest of the year, and always encouraged her to dress better, wear a little make-up on her plain brown face, and never wasted time picking on her taste in R&B.

  Yes, at times, they could be irritating, yes, they stayed in her room, more and longer than she wanted them to, and they invited the attention of too many boys. Nevertheless, they were fun to be around, kept her on her toes, kept her from calling her mama every five seconds, kept her submersed in her cultural upbringing, kept her from being lonely.

  “Come with us, Nat,” Kina encouraged, busting into her room one Saturday night.

  Brie followed shortly after. “Yes, finals are over…so now you have no excuses…”

  There was a Christmas party after finals, at an apartment five minutes from campus. It was a part of Athens she’d only heard about but never, in her wildest dreams, expected to be. The area, not only served as a breeding ground for its vivacious and slightly dangerous drunken college fools, of any race, but served as a hotspot for law enforcement, who always seemed to get a kick out of breaking up as many parties as possible. A weekend didn’t go by where her three hall mates returned to Allen with a riveting story about how they got chased by these guys or that group of guys, or how they barely escaped the cops’ clutches.

  The three girls, all dressed and ready to go, had to drag her out her dorm room.

  "Damn it, Natalie, just come on," Jasmine said. "You'll have fun, I promise...and we won't let anything bad happen to you..."

  She wasn’t sure why she gave into them that night or why she felt bold enough to steal Sammy’s slinky black shirt from her closet. It was the same shirt that Sammy had been wearing at the last party she’d gone to.

  Jasmine, the only one of them that had a car, liked her music loud, loved to scream obscene rap music at the top of her lungs, and prided herself in being the largest of them. She was the dancer of them, could easily lure any black boy in this side of Georgia into her plus size web, using her curves and her shining smile to her advantage, wowing them with her knowledge of rap music.

  For a week, Jas had bragged about being friends with the DJ, who was spinning at the party; some amazingly talented white boy who talked the slang, loved the music, and wasn’t too bad to look at. Jas admitted that she’d met him awhile ago, at another party before Fall Break. She had expressed her love of rap, he had concurred, and a quick musical connection had been born.

  That was the night that Natalie met Scotland Kelly, a soft-spoken, curly-headed something, with a slender frame, and a southern slouch. He’d come from behind the turntables that night, had removed his ridiculously large headphones from his ears, had shaken her hand firmly, smiling his pretty white bread smile.

  “Natalie, nice to meet you, pretty girl,” he’d said.

  They called him Scotty, and he was known at all the black parties as “DJ K”, and she learned that he got hired on a regular basis.

  Scotty, from Memphis, was an old junior, had just turned twenty-two that November, and the sweetest drawl escaped his sandy-bearded mouth.

  He was funny, flirted easily with Jas, and Natalie took a liking to him instantly, though she watched his interaction with Jas from afar.

  Scotty had invited the four brown girls to his house the next night so that they could listen to some new music that he’d discovered. They, all eager, ignorant freshmen, all agreed to this, Natalie, noticing the expression on his face, indicating that he’d gotten many girls in the same fashion.

  “Great,” he’d said. “I’m sure that my roommates won’t mind…they’re never there…they’re up their girlfriend’s asses…”

  “Where do you live?” Kina had asked.

  “At a house on Trent road, a couple of miles from campus,” he’d said. “The rent’s really decent and the guys I stay with I’ve been friends with for years…”

  “Even though they’re up their girlfriend’s asses?” Brie had teased.

  Scotty laughed. “Yes…even though…”

  “Are they as cool as you?” Kina had asked, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

  Scotty seemed to blush. “Well, I don’t know about all of that…but they are definitely cool people…a couple of them are graduating this semester…it’s pretty depressing…it’ll only be me and my buddy, Brandon…”

  Something clicked in Natalie’s head.

  Brandon…Trent road, house…

  “Is this Brandon as cute as you are,” Jasmine teased, pinching the boy’s cheek tightly.

  Scotty smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I don’t judge dudes, but, see for yourself, he’s around here somewhere…”

  Natalie felt a chill run through her. She certainly couldn’t picture the pinn
acle of white privilege that was Brandon Greene being in an establishment such as this, but she turned her head anyway, spotted him up against the wall, standing alone, shrouded in darkness, people-watching.

  She left her hall mates standing there, walked toward the lofty figure, looking a little uncomfortable, standing out more than anyone else there. He was dressed comfortably, appearing as if he’d attempted to blend in as much as possible. On the contrary, Natalie knew then, looking at him, that there would be nothing that the generous white prince could do to blend in – in any situation.

  He caught her looking up at him, smiled a little, visibly loosening up his stiff stance.

  “You,” he’d said over the loud music.

  “Me…”

  “I forgot to get your number…”

  “It’s been months…”

  “I noticed…got a little colder since the last time I saw you,” he said, grinning. “I see that you dressed appropriately this time…”

  “I see that you don’t have a beer bottle this time…”

  “You’re funny,” he said sarcastically. “No, I decided to cool it…actually, Scotty told me to cool it…”

  “Not Sophia?”

  “So hilarious, I swear,” he said. “Not Sophia…”

  She remembered him smelling amazing that night.

  “I just met Scotty,” she told him. “I like him already…my favorite roommate in the house on Trent road…”

  Brandon’s eyes went to Scotty’s standing place. “Yes, he seems to have that effect on all the pretty girls…I can put you onto him…if you’re interested…”

  “Oh, so he’s into the brown?”

  “If you mean, has he dated girls of other races, then yes…”

  Natalie followed Brandon’s gaze to Scotty. “Hmm, maybe…”

  “Well, that’s great,” he said. “That’s my job tonight…I’m the wingman…which basically means that I have to stand here and steer all the pretty girls in his direction…”

  “Doesn’t sound very fun,” she said, turning her lip up. “You can’t even keep one for yourself?”

  “I’m generous,” he smiled. “Besides, working on being faithful, here…told you that…”

  “Oh, right,” Natalie said. “So…is the competition stiff?”

  Brandon looked her up and down. “Want the honest truth? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen here…”

  “I’ve seen better…”

  “That’s arguable…”

  Natalie leaned against the wall with him. “Are you enjoying my company? My job is to make you as look comfortable as possible…”

  “That’s a hard to position to fill,” he chuckled. “Do I look like I belong at a party like this? Do I know any of the music? Hell no. Do I know anyone here? A big hell no. Why am I here? Who the hell knows…”

  “Do I look like I belong here?”

  He looked down at her. “No, you look like you belong at home. Not around…hooligans…like this…”

  “So…black people are hooligans? And who says that word?”

  “My father,” he began. “And I wasn’t talking about black people…I was talking about drunken fools, like everyone in here except you and me…”

  “Oh…do you feel left out?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m trying to be a good kid, like you…”

  “That’ll take some time…”

  “Exactly why I have to keep hanging around you…so some of your goodness can rub off on me…”

  Natalie smiled. She’d lost sight of everything happening around her. How on earth did that happen?

  “We’ll see what Sophia thinks of that…”

  “Natalie Savannah—as in Georgia—Chandler…you’re just a myriad of jokes, aren’t you?”

  “I told you…funniest person you’ve ever heard…”

  “If you mean funny-looking, then I’ll agree…”

  She punched him in the arm, watching him laugh at his own corny joke, and another song began to play.

  “Tea, do you drink it?” He asked.

  “If you mean sweet tea, then yes…”

  “I mean hot tea, Natalie…”

  “Never had it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders once. “Must be a white thing…”

  “Why does drinking tea have to be a racial thing?”

  She couldn’t answer.

  “I drink it when I’m at home with my parents…”

  “Oh…so it’s a northern thing?”

  “You’re making this a regional thing now?”

  “Like I said, Brandon, I’ve never had any…”

  “Well…let’s go get some…”

  “It’s one in the morning…what’s open at one in the morning?”

  “I know of a place…”

  “You don’t want to stay here?” She asked.

  “You don’t want to either…”

  “I can’t leave my friends…”

  “They’ll be fine…my car’s outside…”

  Brandon took her wrist. She looked back. “What about Scotty?”

  “He’ll probably go home with someone…the boy’s definitely on tonight…”

  “He’s like that?”

  “Oh, most certainly,” Brandon laughed. “Welcome to college…”

  A small café stayed open late on the weekends, in a small corner of town. The interior was warm, inviting and the worn wooden floor creaked beneath their feet as they walked toward a small round table in the back, illuminated only by a single votive candle.

  Brandon Greene ordered them two cups of chamomile tea, telling her that it was the same kind of tea his mother gave him and his brothers when they were young, when they couldn’t go to sleep at night. He then got into the subject of how his mother’s unfailing devotion made it hard for him to find a girl that could live up to those standards, explaining that his mother was everything, and anything in between, explaining that he’d do anything for her. She wanted to mention Sophia, wanted to ask why she wasn’t that girl, what made her so great. But, she kept quiet, played with her nails nervously, didn’t know him well enough to go probing through his personal business.

  Their tea came quickly, and he instructed her on how she should drink it.

  “Slowly,” he’d coached. “Very slowly…you can take in the aromas and the flavor better that way…”

  She felt funny then, sitting in front of someone with such sophistication, she, having hailed form a background that knew nothing better than how to eat all of the meat off of the chicken bone.

  “It’s good,” she told him.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Even though it’s…a ‘white thing’…”

  “I’m sorry, did that offend you?”

  “Of course not…things don’t bother me the way they seem to bother you…”

  “That’s questionable…”

  “I only go by what I see…”

  They drank their tea silently for a few moments, Natalie looking at him periodically from across the small table, catching glimpses of his movements, each of them, slow and fluid…

  “What are you doing for break?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Going home…”

  “Which is where? You never told me…”

  “Decatur…”

  “That’s not far…”

  Natalie shook her head. “My mother’s coming to get me on Monday…and you? What are your plans?”

  Brandon sighed, placing his cup down, sighing, and whispering, “To the Baldwin Farm in Columbia, South Carolina”

  “What for?”

  “Oh, you know, Sophia Baldwin’s family…”

  “What do your parents say about this? Surely they don’t want you to miss Christmas…”

  “Oh, I’m going to Saratoga too…but Sophia wants to come with me…my parents absolutely adore her…”

  “You don’t seem too happy about it,” she scoffed.

  “I’m trying to be…but…it’s soo
n, right? Spending Christmases together…that’s serious, right?”

  Natalie tapped the side of her cup. “Three years, Brandon…you two have been dating for three years, right?”

  Brandon nodded. “Yes…three years…”

  “I don’t know much about long term relationships,” she began. “Because I’ve never been in one…but I know that three years is a long time for things to not get serious…”

  “Duly noted…”

  “But I also believe that if you don’t want to do this, you shouldn’t have to,” Natalie said proudly. “No matter what your parents or her parents or what she says…it’s your life…”

  Brandon looked at her. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard in years…”

  “Shouldn’t be…it’s common sense…”

  “You try and ask white people what the definition of common sense is and I guarantee you that you won’t get a direct answer…”

  “I can see that,” she said.

  “You know what, Natalie? I’m most certainly going to need your number now…I have to talk to you…I have to talk to someone with some pure, fucking, common damn sense!”

  Natalie’s face curled. “You won’t get anything from me if you don’t fix that language…”

  He huffed, smiled grandly, placed his cup down again and said, “Duly noted…”

  She wasn’t sure what her academic advisor was thinking when she suggested that she register for a philosophy course her second semester of her freshman year. After all, she was a biochemistry major who wanted nothing more than to take chemistry and biology and math classes till she felt content. Those things made sense to her. Philosophy required abstract thinking, required sitting there for long periods of time, thinking of why some things were logical and why others weren’t, or pondering the true meaning of life. She’d much rather sit down with a page full of equations in front of her, where she could easily figure out the steps and solve the problems without hesitation or frustration. Still, her advisor said that she certainly wouldn’t graduate if she didn’t take the course, and she figured that she might as well get it out of the way.

  Natalie had had the most wonderful Christmas, which made it incredibly hard for her to have the desire to come back to the crammed dorm room she shared with Sammy and sometimes Billy, who, by the first of January had developed the nice habit of smoking weed. When Sammy came back to the room, she absolutely reeked of it, causing Natalie to crack the window above her bed, in thirty-degree weather.