Coffee Will Make You Black (26 page)

“Look, Stevie, you should've drank more wine. You barely drank half a glass.”

“Because I didn't like the taste of it.”

“It's good wine,” Sean insisted. “It's Gallo. Bro knows his stuff.”

“Sean, you know I'm not a drinker.”

“But for something like this you might need a drink.”

“I just didn't expect it to hurt so much.”

“It gets better. It's important for a girl to relax.”

“How can somebody relax when she's being tortured?”

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't so uptight. You ain't got to be scared about getting pregnant. I was using a rubber. Maybe it hurt because I've got a big one,” Sean added.

“You're lucky I'm not a witch, I'd turn all dicks into the size of my index finger.”

“Stevie, that would be cold. You'd be sorry too. One day you'll be saying, ‘The bigger the better.'”

“Don't hold your breath, Sean.”

“Look, dig up, Stevie, drink some more wine and relax and we can try again.”

“Sean, I don't want to try again. I could think of so many other things I'd rather do, till it's not funny.”

I sat up against the rattan headboard and wrapped some of the sheet around me. I didn't know how I was going to face Carla. How could I ever explain this?

“What do you mean you don't want to try again?”

“Sean, I really wasn't into it.”

“Well, you need to
get
into it! We've been going together over six months now. I've been patient, I mean, I've been nice. But, Stevie, I'm going to be eighteen in June. I'm not a little boy anymore. I have a right to expect to get some on a regular basis.”

Sean lifted the sheet and wrapped his arms around me and pressed his naked body against mine. “If you want to see me beg, baby, I'll beg. Baby, I have no shame.”

“You've got a powerful rap, Sean.” I said as I felt his dick harden against my thigh.

“Stevie, I've got feelings for you deep enough to swim in.”

“Sean, I'm sorry, you're the only dude I would want to do it with, but I don't want to half step.”

“You ain't got to half step, baby, come on and be an all-the-way-woman.”

What if it was no use? I thought. What if I just wasn't an all-the-way woman? Then I'd have to pretend on a regular basis. I wished I could just climb up in Grandma's lap and all of my problems would be solved.

“My rap's not powerful enough, though, huh?”

“I'm just not ready, Sean.”

Sean jerked away from me and sat on the edge of the bed. He gulped down the rest of my wine. “When are you going to be ready, next week, next month? How long do you expect me to wait?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, I'm not settling for a hand job on my prom night.”

“Well, Sean, I can't make any guarantees.”

“Well, then, I can guarantee you won't be my prom date.”

“So are you saying that if I don't give you some, you won't take me to the prom? Is that what you're saying?”

Sean turned around and faced me. “Look, Stevie, it's time to shit or get off the pot. I don't want to push you. But I can't let you hold me back anymore, either.”

“So much for your little rap about gravy, huh, Sean? You had me thinking that you were different.”

“I
am
different, Stevie. Plenty of dudes wouldn't have stopped tonight. They would've just kept right on fucking you!”

I knew that I was losing my boyfriend, but I felt relieved. I realized that I had never been in love with Sean, just impressed with him. And that was a different feeling. It hadn't made me want to run outside and taste a snowflake.

I'd told Aunt Sheila to save her money, that I wasn't going to be needing that prom dress, after all. I'd explained to Mama and Aunt Sheila that Sean had dumped me because I wouldn't give it up. They had called him all kind of dogs. I figured that Carla would see things differently. I knew she'd be all up in my face, asking me how it was. So I beat her to the punch. I'd phoned Carla this morning and insisted that she come over. I'd refused to give her any details on the phone.

My lips had been sealed until we reached my basement. Daddy had paneled an area that we called the family room. I slumped back against the black vinyl couch.

“Sit down, Carla, you need to be sitting down.”

Carla plopped down in the red bean-bag chair across from me. She leaned forward with her chin in her hands like she couldn't wait to hear the dirt.

“Well, how was it?”

“Carla, things didn't go according to plan.”

“Well, what happened? Did his brother come home early or something?”

I shook my head. “I don't know where to begin.”

“Start with when things started getting juicy.”

“Okay, we were kissing and touching and stuff and Sean started undressing me.”

“That was a good move, he relieved you of your threads. Did he tease you? Was you dripping wet?”

“My love came down, I s'pose.”

“You s'pose?”

“Well, I got sort of scared when he pushed his thing inside of me.”

“That's understandable, but you put that fear by the wayside and you let him make you his woman! Woooo!” Carla clapped her hands like she was in church.

“Not exactly, Carla. I sort of told Sean to stop, that it was hurting me.”

“Knowing Sean, him being a gentleman and all, he eased up, and before you knew it, y'all was cooking with gas. That's normal, Stevie, it hurted me in the beginning too. But when you in love with a nigger, it's the sweetest pain.”

“Carla, it wasn't sweet and so I didn't go through with it.”

“Didn't go through with it! You really went and fucked things up now, didn't you!” Carla stamped her gym shoes against the floor. “Stevie, is you crazy?”

“Carla, why should I be tortured just to please Sean? Nurse Horn says that girls should wait until they're emotionally and physically ready before they have sex.”

“Nurse Horn,” Carla groaned. “I don't give a damn what that white heifer say. That's your problem, Stevie. You're choosing her white ass over Sean.”

“No, I'm not. What do you mean by that, Carla?” I asked nervously.

“I mean you seem more into Nurse Horn than you do Sean sometimes. You think I don't be noticing how your eyes be lighting up when you talk about her. Well, it ain't natural, Stevie.”

“Nurse Horn's just been nice to me, that's all. You're making it out to be something that it's not.”

“Okay, fine, then what did Sean say after you acted a fool?”

I took a breath, glad that Carla had backed off about Nurse Horn. “Sean said he's taking somebody else to the prom.”

“Serves you right. I don't blame Sean one bit.”

“Thanks a lot, Carla.”

Carla stood up and started pacing. “Stevie, you fucked up, but there's no need to panic.”

“I did not fuck up.”

“Drink you a glass of wine, smoke you a joint …”

“You know I don't get high.”

“Whatever you need to do,” Carla continued. “Put on your best panties and call Sean. Tell him to come on over here and sock it to you.”

“No way.”

“Stevie, you better wake up, girl, you lucky. You gotta decent nigga.”

“
Had,
Carla.”

“He's cute, he's a senior, he's willing to wear a rubber. You gotta
lot
to be thankful for, girl.”

“
Had
a lot to be thankful for, Carla.”

“G'on and get over the hump, Stevie. Let Sean bust your cherry and get it over with. Tell him you need a pair of heels or want a new album. Make him buy your ass stuff. You get over on him that way.” Carla sat back down. “Ain't your mama taught you nothing?”

“Carla, that's just not me. I'm not into material things that much.”

“Stevie, you sound like a white girl, like a white hippie.”

“I sound like me.”

“You don't care nothing about having no man, so long as you can grin up in that white woman's face. I got your number.”

“She's got nothing to do with it.”

“Stevie, you know you love you some Nurse Horn, g'on and admit it. You know you love her white ass.”

I swallowed. “No, I don't, it ain't even like that.”

“You a lie, Stevie, you love Nurse Horn's yesterday's drawers.”

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. “What are you trying to say about me, Carla?”

Carla struggled up from the bean-bag chair. She stood over me with her hands on her hips. I held my breath.

“Okay, fine, Stevie, I ain't trying to crack on you. But if I didn't know better, I'd swear you was funny.”

Me and Carla were silent. She stared at the cobwebs on the ceiling. I became interested in the yellow wax buildup on the gray linoleum floor.

I bit my bottom lip. At least it had been said. Now it was out in the open, I thought, breathing in the musty basement air.

“Funny, me funny? Carla, I can't believe that you could say anything so ridiculous! Do I look like a bulldagger to you?”

Carla plopped back down in the bean-bag chair.

“I can tell if somebody's that way by looking in they eyes. The eyes is the windows to the soul.”

“Oh,” I said, turning away from Carla, my stomach churning. “Carla, you would still be my friend, though, if I was that way, wouldn't you?”

“You mean if'n you was funny?”

“We both know I'm not, but let's just say if'n I was.”

“Naw, then.”

“Naw, then what, Carla?”

“Hell no, I wouldn't still be your friend.”

“Carla, are you saying that we wouldn't be tight anymore?”

“I wouldn't have shit to do with you, Stevie.”

“You wouldn't give me the time of day?”

“You got it.”

“Carla, I don't believe you. You're not serious.”

“I'm serious as terminal cancer.”

“That's really cold, Carla.”

“It bees that way sometimes.”

“But, Carla, we've been through thick and thin together!”

“I don't give a damn, Stevie. Hey, when Aries turn off, we turn off cold. Look, you ain't funny, so it don't make no never mind, do it?”

“It does make some never mind, Carla. I would stand by you if you were that way.”

“Stevie, that's you. That ain't Carlene Zenobia Perkins.”

“Carla, if you can't accept me for who I am, no matter what, then our friendship is really tired.”

“It'll just have to be tired, then. 'Cause I ain't acceptin' nobody if they funny.”

I felt hurt and scared, but I still wanted Carla to look into my eyes and tell me if I was really funny.

“Carla, look into my eyes so that we can put this mess to rest. In case you have any question in your mind.”

My heart pounded, as I faced Carla. I held my breath as she stared at me. Carla turned away.

“Carla, could you tell I wasn't funny?”

Carla shook her head. “Stevie, if you one of them funny folks, I don't want to know.”

I dared to breathe. “Well, I want to know.”

“Well, I can't help you.”

I'd seen a fear in Carla's eyes that I'd never noticed before. But it had always been there. It was like I was seeing Carla for the first time.

“Well, it's time I got a friend who
can
help me,” I said.

Carla looked surprised.

“And another thing, Carla, good people come in all colors and types, just the same as bad people. But you're just too scared to find that out!”

I left Carla stuck in a bean-bag chair, with her mouth hanging open, in my own basement.

chapter 24

By Monday afternoon I'd managed to avoid making contact with Carla and Sean for the most part. I'd passed by Sean as he left his locker this morning. We'd both nodded, but neither of us had made eye contact.

A dude wearing an apple cap walked up to me. “Hey, sister, what's happening?”

He meant “sister,” literally. It was David under the floppy cap.

“Nothing, brother, what's happening with you?”

“Not much, I just want to borrow your teke. I'm going to the Afro-American Club meeting this afternoon.”

I felt the smooth, wooden sculpture hanging around my neck.

“David, why don't you buy your own?”

“Why should I, when I can borrow my sister's?”

“What are they going to be talking about at the meeting today, anyway?”

David hunched his shoulders. “You know Roland Anderson just got elected president.”

“No, I didn't know that.”

“Oh, and they gotta decide how to get rid of Nurse Horn.”

“Get rid of Nurse Horn!”

“Calm down, kemo sabe, you signed the petition, remember? I saw your name on it.”

I gulped. “That was umpteen years ago. Before I'd even met Nurse Horn.”

“Well, all of the demands of the Manifesto have been met except getting a black school nurse,” David reminded me.

“I have to stand up for Nurse Horn. She does a good job. Color has nothing to do with it.”

“Good luck trying to convince a bunch of militants of that.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna give up the teke or not?”

“No, I'm gonna need this teke. David, since when did you become a card-carrying member of the Afro-American Club, anyway?”

“Since this girl I like joined. Underneath that dashiki, Shantelle is a pussy cat,” David smiled.

“Get out of here, fool. And you need to take off that stupid cap.”

“Jean, watch what you say in there. Try not to embarrass me, okay. I don't want to have to disown you.”

Roland looked more like a dark-skinned Malcolm X than ever. The squeaky voice, the tired glasses, and the pocket of pens were long gone. They'd been replaced by a print dashiki, stylish specs and a confident-sounding voice. As I watched him preside over the meeting, I couldn't help but be impressed. I also couldn't help but notice that membership was down. There were only about fifteen students in the room. But I reminded myself that the Afro-American Club still had a lot of power.