Arisleyda (Soul Ties)

Subria and Shiloh's relationship, like any great love story, will face adversity. That main challenge will be Shiloh's x-acquaintance, Arisleyda (AH-ris-LAY-dah), the nature of Shiloh's past relationship with her (despite his best intentions), and how he chooses to communicate with Subria about how his past is creeping into his life just as he's trying to do things differently and build a relationship with Subria that does not involve sexual intimacy. 

I previously posted about the guy Kevin who Subria meets at school. Remember how every action has an equal and opposite reaction? Keep that in mind for a post that will follow about Subria and Kevin, because I'd love some feedback about that.

Other important considerations: 
- The transitions are abrupt, but they won't be when I'm finished revising. 
- Shiloh and Subria were just friends when he got involved with Arisleyda. I'm working on determining if they go to the same strict church, are from the same school/neighborhood or both.
- As a church boy, Shiloh is trying to avoid sexual intimacy until he's married, but struggles in his very strict household. He is losing resolve, but doesn't realize it.  
- I need to change this so that Arisleyda and Shiloh go to the same school. Otherwise it won't make sense that she's on his senior trip. I'll change Lewis Hayden Academy to a co-ed school.
- I need to further develop Arisleyda's character.  Right now, she just comes across as a vixen, but people are far more complex. 

Check out these excerpts and feel free to share feedback with me:

January, 1996

The academic expectations at Hayden Academy kept Shiloh at the library almost every day after school.  Thankfully his mom worked there, and was an endless source of information.  Unfortunately, a lot of students in the area seemed to have the same idea on this particular day.  It was hard for Shiloh to find a private space. 

"Excuse me, do I know you?" a young lady asked Shiloh.

"I don’t think so," he responded without making eye contact with her.  He hated to be bothered when he was reading, and he had come to the library specifically so he could have time to finish his reading without interruption.  After about ten seconds, however, he could still feel her eyes on him.  She wasn’t getting the hint.  He didn’t want to be rude, so he finally looked up at her and found that he didn’t mind the interruption after all.

"Don’t you go to my school?" the girl asked.

"That’s not possible," Shiloh said.  "I go to an all boy’s school."

"Oh, my bad," she said, giggling and blushing. 

"I’m Shiloh Joseph," he said, extending his hand and smiling apologetically.

"Arisleyda Colòn," she responded, shaking his hand and returning the smile.  "It’s nice to meet you."

"Same to you," Shiloh said.

"Can I borrow some paper, please?" Arisleyda asked.  "I forgot my notebook at home."

"Sure," he said, tearing out a couple of pages from his notebook along the perforated edge.  He pulled the remaining edges of the paper out through the spiral, scrunched them up, and placed them on top of the table.

"Thanks.  You’re so organized," Arisleyda commented.

"Thanks," Shiloh responded, and started to turn his back to her again to continue reading.

"What are you reading?" Arisleyda asked.

"Two Tickets to Freedom."  He held up the book so she could see the cover.  When he saw the confused look on her face, he continued, "It’s about William and Ellen Craft’s escape from slavery."

"You have to read it for school?" Arisleyda asked.

"No," Shiloh sighed, and smirked, "I’m reading it because I want to." 

Arisleyda blushed.  "Oh."

Lewis Hayden Academy was a college preparatory school, and Shiloh had become accustomed to having mentally stimulating conversations with his classmates.  He was surprised to hear Arisleyda either downplaying her intelligence, or worse, feeling so free to share that she didn’t read for pleasure.  Although she was cute, he wasn’t impressed. 

"You only read what’s assigned in school?" Shiloh asked, trying, unsuccessfully not to sound judgmental.

"No," Arisleyda said, seemingly relieved at the opportunity to clarify what she meant, "Just making conversation," she said, lying.  "Where do you go to school?"

"Lewis Hayden Academy," Shiloh responded.

"Wow," Arisleyda said.  "You’re lucky."

"Well, I don’t believe in luck, but getting into Hayden was definitely a good thing."

"Yeah," Arisleyda responded, caught off guard by his luck comment, but finding herself more and more intrigued by Shiloh. 

"Where do you go?" Shiloh asked.

"A. Philip Randolph High on W. 135^th."

"My brother went to that school."

"Really?  That’s cool."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Arisleyda.  I really have to get back to my reading."

"It was nice to meet you, too.  Do you think maybe I could call you sometime?"

"Sure," Shiloh responded, smiling.

Shiloh put his book in his bag, and opened to a fresh page in his history notebook.  He tore out a new sheet of paper from the back of his notebook and wrote down his phone number for her.

 ***

Shiloh had been really looking forward to the senior trip to Washington, DC.  Not only was he looking forward to visiting the Smithsonian to help with his research on the role of the quilt during the time of the Underground Railroad, but his parents had been giving him so much stress about dating Arisleyda that he couldn’t wait to spend some time with her without their prying eyes. 

"What was your favorite exhibit?" Arisleyda asked Shiloh.

"L’Merchie Frazier’s quilt about Martin Luther King, hands down," Shiloh responded (side note: I know and adore L'Merchie Frazier 😍. She was one of the facilitators of a week-long institute I participated in for two summers about Blacks in Boston and the Abolitionist Movement as a joint effort between Boston Public Schools, The Museum of African American History and Suffolk University).

Arisleyda took out the pamphlet they had been given at the Smithsonian, and looked up the name.  "Oh, it’s called From a Birmingham Jail: MLK."  That one was impressive."

After dinner, Shiloh walked Arisleyda back to her room.  Shiloh leaned in to kiss her on her cheek.  Arisleyda turned her head slightly, and kissed him on the mouth.  Shiloh was surprised, and thought to pull away at first, but he was unsuccessful.  Her perfume wafted into his nose as they continued to kiss, keeping him there.  "You wanna come in?" Arisleyda asked.

"Leydi, you know I can’t do that," Shiloh said, weakly.

"Come on Shiloh.  I was supposed to room with Jemilexi, but she got sick.  No one's in there.  Just come in for a little while.  I promise I won’t bite," Arisleyda said, smiling, grabbing his hand, and pulling him into the room. 

 ***

As much as Shiloh hated his father’s lectures, as Shiloh left Arisleyda's room two hours later, every word that he had spoken to him since he started dating her came crashing down on him like an avalanche.  She knew exactly what she was doing.  He wondered if she was ever supposed to share a room with Jemilexi in the first place.  Shiloh started to feel sick inside.  He took his room key out of his pocket, opened the door and headed straight for the bathroom. 

"Is everything okay, Shy?" Samuel asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

"Everything’s fine," Shiloh lied.

"Are you sure?  Where have you been?"

"Sam, I’m fine.  Just leave me alone . . . please!"

"Aiight, man.  I’m out here if you want to talk about it."

Shiloh looked at himself in the mirror, and he was disgusted with himself.  He sat down on the edge of the tub, put his head in his hands and cried, mourning the loss of his virginity.

"I’m sorry, God.  I’m so sorry."

*** 

The next morning, the students packed up the bus, and they all headed for the International House of Pancakes that was five minutes from the hotel in the direction of the highway.  When Shiloh and Sam were together, they usually sat at the back of the bus, but he intentionally asked Sam to sit in the front.  He didn’t want to risk seeing Arisleyda, and he knew she was already on the bus.  When Shiloh and Sam arrived at the restaurant, they went inside quickly, and sat down together. 

"You ready to talk, man?" Sam asked.

"I don’t know, Sam."

Arisleyda came over to the table.  "Hey, guys." She said, looking directly at Shiloh.  "How’s everything?"

Shiloh wouldn’t make eye contact with her, so Samuel said, "Good morning."

Arisleyda noticed that Shiloh wasn’t looking at her.  "Okay, then.  I’ll see you both later." 

"What’s going on, Shy?" Sam asked, after Arisleyda walked away.

"I messed up, Sam."

"Aw, man, Shy."

"Yeah, I know."

February, 1999

This was the first time in all his life that Shiloh was not looking forward to his birthday.  Everything had been tense in the city ever since the police killed Amadou Diallo.  Most of the young Black men he knew were all on edge.  It was hard not to be when an unarmed Black man could get shot at 41 times because he "fit the description of a rapist."  It seemed like that was always the case (side note: I wrote this scene so long ago, and now to Amadou Diallo's name, we can add Sean Bell, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Walter Scott, Sandra Bland, and far too many others). 

Growing up, Shiloh would always get to stay home on his birthday, but this year, he’d be writing a take home essay that wouldn't be given out until his birthday, and since it would be due the following day, there was no getting around it.  But that wasn't for another couple of weeks.  It was Friday, and at least he’d be able to crash for the rest of the weekend. 

Shiloh had really enjoyed his time with Subria over Christmas break. She was very receptive to moving their relationship more toward courting than what most people called dating.  Neither one of them was completely sure how things would change, besides not kissing anymore.  They wouldn't be back together until the summer, so they figured they'd just keep in touch by phone and email, and figure the rest out when they saw each other again.

Shiloh walked into the common room of his dorm and threw his book bag on the couch.  None of his roommates were home yet, and he was thankful for some alone time.  He sat on the couch and flicked on the television, and the weather forecaster was summing up the forecast.  Rain all weekend.  Great.  He let out a long sigh and went into the kitchen to get some iced tea, and to check for messages.  That’s when he saw it.  The absolute last thing he needed.  Next to the church bulletin from the previous Sunday was a message.  The message was scrawled in his roommate Hasaan’s chicken scratch, but Shiloh had learned to decipher it, though now he wished he couldn’t. 

Arisleyda called.  She wants you to call her.  We’ll talk later. 

His mind raced.  Should he call her back now, later, or not at all?  He had promised himself that he would stop putting things off, because procrastination had ruled his life in the past, and never did him any good.  Arisleyda was persistent, and if he didn’t call her back, she’d keep calling until she got through to him, so the "not at all" option was, in fact, not an option.  Shiloh looked at the message, and didn't recognize the area code, so he figured she had gone to school out of state.  He picked up the phone and dialed the number on the paper.  

Two rings.  She usually picked up the phone by the third ring.  Four rings.  Maybe she’s not home . . .

"Hello?" came the sultry voice from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Arisleyda.  It’s Shiloh."

"Oh, hi Shiloh."  He could almost see her grin over the phone.  Ear to ear. 

"How are you?" Shiloh asked.

"Good.  I’m just getting back from my last class of the day," Arisleyda said.  "I almost missed you.  How are you?"

"Tired.  I had a long week.  I got a message here saying that you called," Shiloh said, attempting to move the conversation along.

"What, no small talk?" Arisleyda flirted.

"I don’t mean to be impolite, but I have a lot to do," Shiloh explained.

"No worries.  I just have a question to ask."

Shiloh’s stomach dropped.  He thought these days were over. 

"What’s up?" Shiloh asked, with his eyes squeezed shut, one hand holding the receiver, the other cradling his forehead.

"Well, I have to come to New York to interview for an internship, and since my family moved, I don’t have anywhere to stay."

This is a test of the Holy Spirit broadcasting system . . .

"You don’t have any family left in the city?" Shiloh inquired.

"Well, I have some people out in Queens, but I wanted to stay in the city.  I don’t want to have to make this long commute on the morning of my interview."

"No friends you can stay with?" Shiloh asked, hoping.

"I thought I was calling a friend," Arisleyda said, sarcastically.

"You know what I mean, Arisleyda.  No female friends?"

"Shy, the interview is in the Village, and you’re right there.  Plus it would be nice to see you again.  I don’t like how we left things."

In the case of an emergency, this system will broadcast to help you make wise choices.

"When is your interview?" Shiloh asked, sighing.  Arisleyda was nonplussed. 

"February 26^th."  Of course it had to be the day before his birthday.  How convenient.

"I really think it would be better if you found someplace else to stay," Shiloh said.

Okay, doing well. Doing well . . .

"Shiloh, come on.  Your school has those big dorm rooms," Arisleyda said, almost pleading.  Shiloh wondered how she knew how big the dorm rooms were at his school.  She was so shady.  "I can just sleep on the couch, right?" she continued.  "It’ll just be for like one night.  I’ll come in on Thursday, the interview will be on Friday, and I’ll leave Friday night."

Leaving on his birthday?  Hmm.  That didn't sound too bad.  If she were trying something, she probably would have mentioned his birthday.  Shiloh's mind was reeling.  His palms were sweating.  He was steadily weakening . . .

"I guess it should be fine," Shiloh finally said, giving in.

Alert! Alert! 

"Okay, thanks so much.  I can’t wait to see you!" Arisleyda said, gleefully.

 ***

The phone rang again a few hours after Shiloh got off the phone with Arisleyda.  He was hesitant to answer it, but he did anyway. 

"Hello?" Shiloh asked, hesitantly.

"Hey, Shy," Subria said, cheerfully.

"Subria," Shiloh responded, wincing at the guilty feelings that flooded him when he heard her voice.  "How are you?"

"I’m good.  How are you?" Subria asked.

"I’m great," Shiloh responded. 

"Guess what?" Subria asked.

"What?"

"I can come home for spring break!  Isn’t that great?"

"Really?" Shiloh responded, as a sickening knot developed in his stomach.

"Yeah, I thought it would be nice to hang out with you for your birthday." 

"Oh, that’s so sweet, Subria, but I’m really swamped at school.  It wouldn’t be the best time for you to come," Shiloh responded.

"Oh," Subria said, her excitement leaving her like the air from a punctured balloon.  "I mean, I wasn’t planning on taking up a lot of your time or anything.  I just wanted to take you out to dinner.  It is on a Saturday, after all!"

"Yeah, I really can’t.  I’m sorry," Shiloh said.

"That’s okay.  I guess I can just stay around my campus.  It’s no big deal." 

"I should go now, but it was great to hear your voice!" Shiloh said.

"Yeah, sure," Subria said with a sharp tone.  "See you later."

***

Subria had never been one to take no for an answer, so she came up for spring break anyway to surprise Shiloh for his birthday.  After she got over her initial angry feelings, Subria realized that Shiloh actually sounded sad on the phone, and she had always been able to cheer him up before.  She transferred from the J train at Fulton Street for the A train at Broadway-Nassau, and she stopped by a florist near the West 4^th Street train station to pick up some red roses for him.  Those were his favorite flowers. 

Subria continued over to Goddard Hall on Washington Square East, but when she got there and called up for Shiloh, he wasn’t there.  That’s what she was afraid of.  She couldn’t be allowed up to his suite without what they called a "resident host."  Thankfully, his other roommate, Malachi was there and said he’d come down to let Subria in. 

"Hey, Malachi," Subria said, as she embraced him.  She passed her ID to the security guard. 

"Hey.  How are you?"

"Good.  Is he in class?" Subria asked, as Malachi walked with her over to the elevator.

"Yeah, he should be back soon," Malachi responded.

"I wanted to surprise him for his birthday," Subria said, smiling.

"He’ll be surprised all right," Malachi said, making a strange face. 

Just as the elevator arrived, Malachi heard someone call him from the front desk.  He turned around to acknowledge the person, and Subria saw all the color drain from his face.  She recognized the girl from pictures.  She had seen these pictures year ago, but it was impossible for Subria to forget her face.

"Malachi.  Hold on," Arisleyda called.

"Are you going to sign her in, too?" the security guard asked. 

"I don’t think so," Malachi said, looking confused.  "What are you doing back here?"  Subria couldn’t help but take notice of the word back.

"I forgot something upstairs," Arisleyda said.  "I won’t stay, I promise.  Will you sign me in?" 

"Come on," Malachi said begrudgingly, and nodded at the security guard. 

"Hello," Arisleyda said, directing her greeting to Subria as she joined them at the elevator.  "Arisleyda," she added, extending her hand.

"Hi.  Sorry I can’t shake your hand," Subria said, motioning to the bags in her hands.  "I’m Subria."

"Oh," Arisleyda said, as if having an epiphany.  "You’re Subria.  It’s nice to meet you."

"Thanks," Subria said, knowing she was being rude, but not really caring.

"I’ve heard lots of great things about you," Arisleyda continued.  "You’re a lucky girl."

"Shiloh’s the lucky one," Malachi said, as they boarded the elevator.

Subria was dying to ask Arisleyda what she was doing there, but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much her presence was bothering her.  She knew Malachi would explain things once Arisleyda left anyway.  She couldn’t imagine any explanation that would calm the rage that was building inside her.  It all became clear.  This is why Shiloh didn’t want her to visit.

After Arisleyda picked up whatever she left, Subria stayed around for a while as Malachi tried to explain things to her, but after about half an hour, she said goodbye to Malachi and went back to her house mourning the loss of the relationship she thought she knew so well.  

Serendipity (Ms. Afrika)

You know how you've had a really rough go of it, and choose to transition with hopes of things getting better . . . and then they actually seem to get worse? That's what 2014 was like for me professionally. I had been working as the Curriculum and Instruction Director for a history and civics educational non-profit, and while I enjoyed redesigning curriculum and providing culturally responsive and curricular professional development for teachers, I missed engaging in authentic teacher development.The professional development workshops I designed and facilitated were well-received, but I didn't have contact with the teachers after the initial training, and I know how essential on-going support is, and how tranformative it can be. I love that work. I am far more satisfied by providing on-going support for a smaller group of teachers than I am facilitating single sessions for large numbers of teachers, especially with something as important as culturally responsive teaching.

So I applied for and accepted a position as a Curriculum and Instruction Director at a school that I thought would allow me to engage in this kind of work. When I was offered the position, I was surprised when I was asked, "What if we call your position Director of Multicultural Practice and Social Studies Chair?" But I figured it was just a title change. Someone wouldn't just offer you a totally different job than what you applied and interviewed for without explicitly telling you that, right? Turns out that someone else was put in place as the Curriculum and Instruction Director. It was definitely a red flag for me, but by that time I had already given notice at my job and stopped my search, so I tried to make the best of it. Oh yeah, and all administrators have some teaching responsibilities to stay connected to the students. Hmm . . . yeah, it is good for administrators to stay grounded, right?

The role ended up being primarily a teaching role where I was responsible for one section of Ancient Civilizations for the 6th grade Monday through Friday, and to be present while one of the Teaching Fellows taught the other section. No other grade level had two groups of students. Just 6th grade. As a teacher, I also had lunch, recess and dismissal duties (which I hated when I had been a classroom teacher before). Dismissal duty nights were particularly hard because chapel started at 7:50, and school didn't end until 5. We had to stay until every child was picked up (when the weather was bad, dismissal duty felt like it lasted forever). My commute home was about 45 minutes, so dismissal duty nights were exhausting.

Although I was
expecting to mostly be an administrator, the teaching responsibilities might not have been so bad if the classes didn't occur every day, or if I were teaching something I was really interested in like African-American History, or Equity and Social Justice. Had I been given the opportunity, I could have designed an amazing social studies class that was highly relevant for our students. Interestingly enough, though, I didn't have any say over what I'd teach, or what text I'd use, even though I was allegedly the Social Studies Chair. I had been offered a contract in March when the curricular decisions were being made, and I let the school know I was available to meet, but was never invited to participate. To top it off, I was also assigned to teach health 😒.

Serendipity: I have worked in the education field since 1998, and although a couple of groups of students have come close, no group of students has captured my heart like this group of young ladies - 6 Gold and 6 Red (15 girls in each class). I never really enjoyed teaching Ancient Civ, but things I thought I'd dread, I began to look forward to, like being able to eat with them during lunch duty, and talk and laugh with them during recess duty. I enjoyed time with them during chapel, and sitting around together during the break before class started each day. Teaching health was HILARIOUS and very, uh . . . surprising. They had some very interesting ideas to share. I loved watching them enjoy Flocabulary videos, and no ego boost could top coming to class to the girls writing how much they loved me on the whiteboard, and even singing and dancing to Shakira's Waka Waka (This Time for Africa) in tribute to me as I entered the room.

I tried to hang in there, mostly because I loved the girls so much, but I was spending most of my time planning and grading lessons and homework, and not really engaging in teacher development, which is what I love and expected to be doing, so I decided to leave at the end of December for a coaching position. It was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever had to make. In the short time I was at the school, I absolutely fell in love with my girls.

I was blessed to be able to attend their 8th grade graduation dinner and graduation this past week. I am so proud of who they are! Cairo is in the same grade, so I've witnessed the transformation of an 8th grader in my own home on a daily basis this year. I've stayed connected to most of the girls through social media, but seeing them in person! Wow! These young ladies are strong, insightful, intelligent, passionate, hilarious, talented, beautiful, and a myriad other amazing things. Although the circumstances under which I connected with these young ladies was unexpected and disappointing, I would not trade my time with them for anything in the world.

Congratulations, Ladies! You deserve the best of all that life has to offer, and I know you'll change the world with your incredible selves. I am doing what I love, and I hope you all go on to do the same. I will forever be your Ms. Afrika, and you will always be my girls.

When Subria Goes to College (Kevin)

Summer is just about here, and along with that comes a slower pace, and opportunities to be more creative. It was challenging to keep up with writing after I went to the writers' retreat in February, but now I'm looking forward to revising again. I've signed up for a couple of local writers' mini-retreats and writing sessions this summer, and I'm looking forward to making progress with my story again.

When my accountability partner and I met not too long ago, I shared that I would really like to stop jumping around in the story in my blog posts so much, and yet, as I re-read, I have SO much work to do. There are parts of the story early on that require significant work, and I don't want to wait until that's complete before working on some other ideas in need of development later in the story.

After reviewing this section, here are the questions I have:

1. What more do you want to know about Subria's relationship with her mother?
2. What more do you want to know about Subria's friend, April?
3. Does the journal entry help you to feel more connected to Subria's character?

I'll post another couple of questions at the end after these excerpts (the first is a journal entry by Subria):

August 15, 1998

I've been on a plane before.  Not that many times, but I've been here before.  I like sitting next to the window, even though that means that I usually try to hold off on going to the bathroom so that I don't inconvenience the person sitting next to me.  I like ascending above the earth and watching the city disappear beneath the clouds.  I especially like the way the clouds look like a big, soft blanket.  But the more I think about blankets, the more I am reminded of my mother - how she cried when I left the terminal, how we won't be able to just go to the video store and get movies any more, and how I won't be able to make cookies for the two of us anymore . . . at least not for a long time.  My life will never be the same.  The more I think about my mother, the more my heart swells.  I feel the tears coming . . . falling, and I hope the flight attendant comes by to offer drinks soon so I can get rid of this lump in my throat.  I miss my mom.  

 * * *

There will be another section here about Subria arriving at Sinai University, moving into her dorm with her friend, April, and getting ready to go to the freshman reception. In this excerpt, she's already there:

Since Subria had arrived at Sinai, she had never been inside the All Purpose Building.  She heard all the rumors about how beautiful it was inside, but she figured folks were just exaggerating.  As soon as the greeters opened the doors, Subria realized that she had been wrong.  In front of them was a spiral staircase with marble stairs and golden banisters.  There were gold and silver mylar helium balloons everywhere, and a shimmering chandelier was hanging from the ceiling. 

"Welcome to the Freshman Mixer," one of the greeters said, as he took Subria and April’s arms, leading them over to where their table assignments were waiting. 

"Looks like we’re at two different tables, April," Subria said, disappointed.

"That’s okay.  We need to meet new people, anyway.  I’ll see you after the dinner."

Subria walked nervously over to table 7 to take her seat.  There was a name tag there for her, but she didn’t put it on.  She hated name tags.  Subria figured if someone wanted to know her name, they could just ask her.  She noticed that April walked right past her table over to a crowd of people to introduce herself.  Subria admired how outgoing April was, but she had absolutely no desire to go over there with her.  She looked down at her sequined handbag.  Her mother had given it to her for occasions just like this one, and although she usually hated carrying a bag, she smiled at the memory of her mom going into her memory chest to present it to her.

"You must really like that bag," a young man commented as he approached her and sat down next to her. 

"It’s not like that," Subria laughed.  "My mom gave it to me.  I was just thinking about her."

"I’m Kevin Adams.  What’s your name?"

"Subria Davis.  Nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand.  "Are you assigned to this table, too, or did you just come over here to harass me about smiling at my bag?"

"No, I’m assigned here.  So where are you from?"

"Brooklyn," Subria said, as she picked up the gold forks and spoons and shook her head in amazement.  "Do you think these are real?"

"Yeah," Kevin said, raising his eyebrows.

"Where are you from?" Subria asked.

"I don’t know if I should tell you," Kevin responded.

"Why not?" Subria asked.  "I told you where I’m from.  It’s only fair."

"Boston," Kevin said, sighing.

Subria smiled.  "No wonder you didn’t want to tell me."

"So, now that you know, do you mind if I stay at this table, or would you like me to leave?"

"Well, I guess you can stay, as long as we don’t talk about sports," Subria said, smiling again.

"You sound like my girlfriend.  She hates talking sports."

"Yeah, but I’m sure it’s for a different reason.  I actually do enjoy talking about sports, but I don’t want your feelings to get hurt."

"Ah," Kevin said, laughing.  "So it’s like that?"

"Well, I will say that I think that trading Armas and Pavano for Pedro Martinez was a good move."

"I think so too," Kevin agreed.

"Hey, at least you won the Wild Card," Subria said, taking a sip of what seemed to be a ginger ale and sorbet concoction.  She liked it. 

"Well, what good was it when we lost to the Indians?" Kevin asked.

"I guess.  I was just trying to be polite."

"Yeah, well, it looks like your team is headed for the World Series, so it’s probably best if we just stop talking about it," Kevin said, frowning.

Subria shrugged and took another sip of her drink as several other freshmen came over to the table, including three other handsome young Black men.  She felt relieved to see more students of color. 

"Whassup, Kev?" one of them said, greeting Kevin with the handshake that was unique to young Black men.  Subria always wondered how they all seemed to know that same hand grasping, finger snapping, shoulder bumping greeting no matter what part of the country they were from.  It made her smile. 

"Hey.  Are yall sitting here, too?" Kevin asked.

"Please," the young man commented.  "You know they had to parcel us out.  Can’t have us all sitting with each other.  Don’t even get me started.  Introduce us to your friend!"

"Oh, my bad," Kevin said.  Malcolm Warren, Marcus Phifer, and Amaru Strickland, this is Subria Davis."  Subria shook each of their hands.

"There are definitely more sisters here than I expected.  Serendipity," Amaru commented.

"There you go again with the big words, man.  You know all that a’int necessary!" Kevin said.

"Whatever, kid.  Don’t hate on me because my vocabulary is more exquisite than yours," Amaru said.  "I’m just happy to see you, Subria."

"I know what you mean," Subria agreed.  "I was a little worried when we came for the tour a few months ago.  I guess they’re really trying to diversify."

"Well," Kevin said to Subria, directing her attention to Malcolm, "The two of you should hit it off.  He’s from Brooklyn, too."

"Oh, really," Subria asked.

"Yeah, I’m from Flatbush," Malcolm responded.

            "So is my friend, April.  She’s right over there.  I’ll introduce the two of you later."

  * * *

Questions for you as a reader:

1. What impression do you have of Kevin?
2. What more (if anything) do you want to know or see here? More narration? More dialogue?
3. What questions do you have that you'd like to see answered here?

Kevin's character will play an important role later in the story when Subria and Shiloh experience a significant challenge in their relationship. More about that next week . . .

Puerto Rico Top 5

Our time in Puerto Rico was magical. An absolutely perfect way to celebrate our 20 years of marriage. Here are my top five highlights from our trip:

View from the tower

1. El Yunque National Rainforest: Aside from childbirth and zip lining, this was one of the most difficult things I've ever done physically. The other is kayaking to the Bioluminescent Bay on Thursday night of our trip, but you can read my Facebook post about that experience (I was so scared!).

We arrived in San Juan on Monday, May 22nd, and spent the day in El Yunque the very next day. I am afraid of heights and driving up the steep inclines of the rainforest was scary (lots of twists and turns, and the two-way road was very narrow). It was so beautiful! We saw one waterfall, climbed up a tower, and hiked into the rainforest to see the bigger waterfall. It was very challenging but, as almost everyone we passed on the hiking path told us, so worth it!

After we finished the hike, there was a lemonade stand which sold what tasted like the best lemonade ever. I won't talk about the woman who fell on her way down the hill toward our car as we were leaving except to say that she held on to her lemonade the whole time! As we were leaving, we picked up lunch at the Restaurant El Dajao and were served by a wonderful young woman named Daphne. I tend to get fixated on things at times, and before we went to Puerto Rico, I took a screenshot of a dish of empanadillas and was determined to enjoy some while we were there. Not only were there empanadillas, but also alcapurrias which our friend Amanda told us to try. So good!

2. Castillo San Felipe del Morro (El Morro): We went to El Morro on Thursday, which was the day before we came back home. I won't say much about the fort. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. What I'm proud of, though, is that on our first night, we went to hang out in Old San Juan, and we spent time with a woman named Norma there who gave us the scoop on how to enjoy our visit in a non-touristy way. She told us about the free trolleys, and we went back and rode the trolley to and from El Morro.

3. The Beach: Although Dishon and I have been together for over 20 years, we haven't spent much time together on the beach, so it was wonderful to stay in a hotel right on the beach. 

4. The Hammock: I've always wanted to lay in a hammock, and just never had a chance to. Since there were so many cool amenities at our hotel, including hammocks right near the water, we took advantage and truly enjoyed ourselves. 

5. Santaella: We enjoyed our anniversary dinner at
Santaella in San Juan. I asked Siri to tell me about the top 10 places to eat near us, and Santaella was one of them. The atmosphere and food seemed really good, and it did not disappoint. I enjoyed a cocktail called Parchita (Puerto Rican White Rum, fresh passion fruit, agave, lemon and lime juice and ginger juice). Very nice and refreshing. For my appetizer, I had a roasted butternut squash salad with feta cheese, fresh lentils, pomegranate seeds, kale, chimichurri, and pumpkin and sunflower seeds. I'm not really even a salad person, but that was the best salad I've ever tasted. Dishon had a veal cheek dish that was so tender, and I enjoyed same very tasty lamb chops. I used to have all my meat cooked well done, but, inspired by Dishon, I'm starting to become more comfortable with meat cooked medium. It was absolutely the right choice for the lamb chops. If it wouldn't have been tacky I would have gnawed the meat off of the bones. We shared a Puerto Rican bread pudding for dessert. It was cooked in cognac sauce. Yum! If you're ever in San Juan, I highly recommend dining at Santaella.

There's so much more we experienced there, but these were the highlights. My niece did a wonderful job taking care of Serena, Cairo and Rabbit, which made it possible for us to truly enjoy our time away.

When we were just starting out as a young married couple, I couldn't have dreamed of a life so wonderful. We are truly blessed!

On our honeymoon 20 years ago. Wow!

Backstory - When Renee Met Steven (1977 NYC Blackout)

Writing this is hard because I've been binge watching Empire after listening to Taraji P. Henson's autobiography, and not too long ago, I watched Southside With You about Barack and Michelle Obama's first date. I don't want to replicate other stories when I think about how Renee and Steven first met. I've spent so much time thinking about Subria's story that I never thought about how her parents met. It makes sense, though, to explore this, because it could shed some light on why Renee stays with Steven despite his challenges.

Renee doesn't stay with him for Subria or the twins (if they end up staying in the story).  I think she stays because, in addition to loving him, she understands something about him. Maybe she understands what caused his challenges, and it creates an empathy for him that blinds her to how Subria is impacted. It has to begin somewhere, though. Hmm . . .

In order to create a backstory, I needed to figure out the answers to some questions, which, of course, created more questions:

1. How old are Renee and Steven in the story? When she's born can inform where she may have met Steven. In the story, Subria is 14 in 1994, which means she was born in 1980. I wanted Renee to be in her early 20s when she has Subria, so I'm thinking Renee was born in 1957. I want Steven to be older than Renee, but not by much, so let's say Steven was born in 1955.
2.  Now that we know how old Steven and Renee are, and I know that they're both African-American living in New York City, I need to figure out what part of New York City they lived in, and what things were like for African-Americans in New York City in the mid-late 50s, and also in the 60s when they were growing up. 
3. When should they meet, and how? I want them to meet in 1977, get married in 1978, and have Subria in 1980. What's special about 1977? That's the year of my first memory - the blackout in July, 1977. Could they have met during the blackout? That could be interesting . . .
4. If I want them to meet during the blackout, I need to do some research on what happened on July 13-14, 1977. What part of the city were they in? Were they impacted by looting and rioting? Thankfully, Dishon and I just watched a documentary about the blackout last week, so that will help.

In 1977, depending on when her birthday falls, Renee will be 19-20. That means that if she went to college, she would likely be in school then. Steven would be 21-22, so he might be close to finishing school if he went to college. I have a special place in my heart for Brooklyn College since I spent my first year of college there. I'm not sure if anything significant happened on the Brooklyn College campus during the blackout, but I think it might be interesting to play with the idea of them being on the campus during the blackout and having to walk home together because the trains weren't working and I can't imagine that the buses were running without working streetlights. 

The blackout happened at around 8:40 p.m. on July 13th. If they met at school, there would need to be a reason that they were at school on a summer evening.  Turns out that Pratt Institute in Brooklyn was not impacted by the blackout because the school had their own generator. I thought of maybe having them on that campus, but I'd need to figure out what they'd be studying, and if it would make sense for them to be Pratt students. 

Considering that in the future, Renee owns a natural food store, she could study nutrition, and work at a natural food store while in school. When I was younger, my mom used to shop at Perelandra Natural Food Center downtown Brooklyn. I was always fascinated by that store - the colors, the smells, everything so different from what I saw in C-Town, Key Food and Associated supermarkets in my neighborhood.

What if Renee worked there? Looks like the store closes at 10 p.m. Maybe Steven was a customer there when the blackout hit? I should think about where in New York City they both live, why he'd be there, and what happens after the lights go out? Why would she go with him anywhere? Why would she trust him? Perhaps he was trustworthy then. Do someone's personal challenges make them untrustworthy, or just broken like we all are in some way?

Maybe he offers to walk her home to make sure she gets home safely? Depending on what section of the city she lives in, this could be a long walk. I love the idea of them walking across the Brooklyn Bridge together. Romantic. What if she lives in Greenwich Village? Him walking her home over the bridge has some cool possibilities . . .

Subria and Track - Learning to Fly

I used to love running when I was in elementary school. I remember doing pretty well on field day at Wingate Park in Brooklyn when I was finishing fifth grade. I think there was some talk of me participating in the Colgate Women's Games back then. There's something in my memory about my parents having a friend who was involved with the CWG . . . a woman named Carol Rainey. But that never came to be.

That's me in the back on the right.

It's not so fun to do something when you're compelled to do it. Even worse, when you're not properly prepared to do it. I had loved running when I was in elementary school, but a few years later, everyone in my church youth group had to participate in all of the sports on the church teams. This included basketball, cheerleading (for the girls - we wore blue and white saddle shoes 😫), volleyball and track and field. I pretty much hated all of it (except volleyball). I wasn't a great player. In fact, I barely moved my feet, and never quite learned how to set or spike. I was pretty good at bumping and serving though.

I'm behind the girl with the red jacket with the Cairo face.

When I was on the track team, I was chosen to run the mile - not because I was good at it, but because I would gain more points for the team just for completing the race. I was decent at the long and triple jumps, and I did get a bronze medal for running the mile, but again, not because I was good at it. There were four people running in my age group, and one person stopped running. I got the bronze medal by default just for finishing 😐. Sadly, that wasn't the end, either. I had to run again at the finals. My mother had just had surgery, yet she came out to support me. It was blazing, and my event was just about the last one of the day. I think we were in Pennsylvania. I didn't place very well. I caught a cramp during the first 400 meters, and was happy to just finish the race. I never ran competitively again after that. 

Dishon was a track star. A record breaking athlete. I never got to see him run or high jump. If I had a time machine, it's one of the first things I'd go back to do. I'd be in the front, his biggest fan, feeling the wind against me as he flew by. He was that fast. I'd be trying to keep the sun out of my eyes as I watched him soar above the high jump bar. He could jump that high. One of the ways I tried to connect to this part of him was to have Subria be a track star, too. He was my mentor as I wrote this scene:

 

September, 1994

Brooklyn Technical High School was an impressive building.  When Subria had come to the school to register during the summer, she only got to see the main office, and a large classroom.  Even then, she was amazed that the school was as wide and long as a whole city block.  On her first day of school, a team of seniors took Subria and a group of nine other freshmen on a tour of the school.  The center lobby had a fireplace, and the school's auditorium was the second largest in New York City, after Radio City Music Hall.  She had definitely never seen any school auditorium with two balconies before.  There was a massive library, and gyms on both the first and eighth floors, with an indoor track in the mezzanine of the eighth floor gym.

As she walked down the hall toward her homeroom, she marveled at the high ceilings and trophy cases.  Subria would have to check all of this out more carefully another time.  She heard that students received detention for being late, and she definitely didn't want that to happen. 

There's another part of the story that will appear here, but I want to stay focused on the track theme.

 

***

 Track try outs finally took place at the beginning of November.  Subria stayed after school to

talk with the coach about trying out for the team.  Like most junior high schools, her old school didn’t have a track team, so Subria kept up her times by preparing for and competing in the Colgate Women’s Games every year.  She regularly ran the 55 meter dash, and had taken third place at the Madison Square Garden finals in January with a time of 7.4 seconds, but she had never run 100 meters competitively before.  Subria knew she was up to the challenge.  Despite the long practices and constant pressure, she knew her father would be disappointed if she didn’t try.  It was his dream for her. 

Subria walked into the first floor gym and looked around to figure out where the head coach’s office was.  The basketball team was in the gym running sprints, so she didn’t want to interrupt them.  Subria walked underneath the bleachers to the other side of the gym.  She saw the doors to the locker rooms, and then a few doors down, there was Daniel Morgan’s office. 

Trying out for the Brooklyn Tech Engineers was more challenging than Subria thought.  She wasn’t really sure what to expect, but as soon as she approached Coach Morgan about being on the team, he wanted to see if she was really as fast as she said she was.  Thankfully, none of the other team members were there.  She changed out of her school clothes into her sweats and sneakers, and stretched in the center of the track for about ten minutes until she saw Coach Morgan walk on to the track. 

He motioned for her to go over to the starting blocks, so she walked in that direction, putting her hair up into a ponytail as she went.  Subria kissed the cross on the chain on her neck as she always did before running, and then positioned herself on the blocks.  She concentrated on slowing her breathing, and listening to the sound of her own heart beat, knowing that for every beat of her heart, her feet would need to hit the ground four times in order to run under thirteen seconds.

Watch your breathing, Subria.

She looked over at Coach Morgan, who was standing next to the track at the finish line with a timer in his right hand and his left hand in the air. 

Subria looked up at him, waiting for his signal, and as soon as she saw his arm drop, she took off.  Like most sprinters, Subria was focused on getting her right knee up as fast as possible to be quick off the blocks.  She kept her head down for the first ten steps, with only a fraction of a second separating each one of those steps.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Head up, goal in sight, stay in your lane.

Push, push, push. 

Subria crossed the finish line, and when she finally brought herself to a stop, she began to walk back over toward Coach Morgan to find out what her time was. 

"How did I do?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"How do you think you did?" he asked.

"I think I did okay.  I know I can do better, though."

"Okay.  Take a breather.  Walk back to the starting line, and do it again."

Subria walked slowly back to the blocks and thought about the look she always saw on her father’s face after her races.  She couldn’t remember him ever smiling so much at any other time.  His office at the laundromat was filled with community newspaper clippings about her performance at the Colgate Women’s Games, and he talked about her track performance whenever he had a chance.  She had to get on the team. 

She ran again, and she knew that she had run a little faster than before. 

"Not bad," Coach Morgan responded, showing her the stopwatch.  It showed 12.53.

Coach Morgan tried her out for a few other events.  It turned out to that she had some skill in the long and triple jumps.  Subria was beside herself when she made the indoor girls varsity team.  In addition to long and triple jumps, Coach Morgan told her that she would compete in the 55 meter relay and the 4 x 100 meter relay. 

***

Although she had track practices every day after school for 2-3 hours, Subria excelled in her academics.  In addition to joining the National Honor Society, she ran in the Public Schools Athletic League, the Big Apple Games, the Pilgrim Games and the Jim McKay Games at the Armory Track and Field Center in Manhattan, and easily made the outdoor track team in March.  She was even invited to participate in the 101^st Penn Relay Carnival at the end of April - the week after her birthday.  Renee wasn't able to come because she didn't want to close the store.  But the night before Steven drove Subria down to Philadelphia, he told her that she could invite Gina and Kenya to spend the night with her the night before they left. 

"Subria," Gina asked just before they fell asleep, "can you tell me why sprinters don't run full out to the end?  It's almost like they slow down at the end sometimes.  I hate when they do that!  It seems like they'd make better times if they ran as fast as they could until they reached the finish line."

"I used to hate that too before I started running track," Subria said, "but that only happens in quarter finals and stuff like that when people are just trying to qualify for the finals.  It reserves your energy and reduces your chance of injury.  It’s also psychological for everyone else, because then the other runners don’t really know how fast you can run." 

"I guess that makes sense," Gina said. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Subria said, sighing. 

      In order to prepare for the relay, Subria and her teammates warmed up by stretching and running an easy mile.  Seeing all the other sprinters there made Subria nervous, but not enough to impact her performance.  As always, Subria was the anchor.  When she initially got on the blocks, she envisioned the race, and pictured herself running faster than her competitors.  An essential part of her pre-relay mental prep work was imagining her team winning the race.  Once she heard her teammate Vanessa yell "stick," she reached back for the baton, and pushed to the end.  At the last possible moment, she dipped her stride to get her head and chest across the finish line.  Subria and her team won the first place 8" bronze plaque, and gold medals.    

Steven was beside himself with excitement for Subria's success.  He went hoarse cheering for her, and he ran out on to the field after her team won the final race.  He embraced her so tightly that it was hard for Subria to breathe.  Although Subria appreciated her father’s support of her accomplishments, she couldn’t help but wish, sometimes, that he would pay as much attention to her off the field as he did when she was sprinting.   

***

I need to do a lot more work on this scene. My writing coach encouraged me to include much more dialogue, which I will. I want there to be a clear connection between Subria/flying in the beginning of the book on the observation deck of the World Trade Center and Subria/running on the track team. What is she running/flying away from? I'll do this even while in my mind's eye, I'm picturing my best friend flying through the air, impressing me in the timeless space our love occupies. I am, and always will be his biggest fan. I can write about love because I know him. 

Weird Halloween

It's May, so it feels a little weird to be writing about Halloween. This topic was sparked for me this week, though, when one of my teachers shared what she had done with her hair for crazy hair day. I remember a crazy hair day when I was a kid. But first, the backstory . . . 

I don't have any pictures of myself in any Halloween costumes before my family stopped celebrating the holiday in 1985. I was 11, but it wasn't because I was too old. It was because the church we started attending that fall was against it (as well as celebrating birthdays and Christmas). Most 11 year olds don't know or use words like pagan and worldly. I used them expertly, and sadly. You would think that a group of folks who claimed Jesus as Lord would be excited about an opportunity to connect with the community in a fun way.  I understand not wanting to dress your kid up as a serial killer or bloody monster, but look at Serena and Cairo in this picture! Could they be more cute? But I digress . . .

Dishon, Serena, Cairo and I have been living in the suburbs since the kids were just about three and four years old. Before that, we lived in a very suburban section of Boston (West Roxbury), so taking the kids Trick or Treating was always easy. Typically one of us would stay home to give out candy while the other took the kids out. A few years ago, the kids started going Trick or Treating with friends, so now we just gave out candy. Sadly, our block doesn't get a lot of traffic on Halloween anymore. The kids who do come get a ton of candy, and we still usually have a bunch left over.

I would imagine that Trick or Treating was challenging for my parents when I was a kid, since we lived in a pretty large apartment building, especially with the warnings to be careful about what Halloween treats to let kids eat after Trick or Treating. I wonder if it was even true that people were putting razors in candy and caramel apples, or if that was actually the beginnings of fake news/urban legends? 

There are only a couple of Halloweens I remember before my family stopped celebrating. I think I was Wonder Woman one year (I could be mistaking a costume for the Wonder Woman Underoos I had, though 😂). The other memory is this one year that always kind of baffled me. Let me first say that I think my mom and sister did an extraordinary job dressing me so creatively for a Halloween party. I think I was around 9 or 10, and they made me a beautiful dress out of material that reminds me of the night sky in Texas - dark and twinkling with stars. I also remember them straightening a hanger, bending it into a u-shape and then pinning my hair around the hanger. I think I was dressed as an alien.  

The part that confuses me is that the party was in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn. My grandmother (dad's mom) lived near the hall, and my family lived in the Flatbush section. These neighborhoods are not close, and we didn't have a car. I don't remember being dressed like that on public transportation, so we must have gone in a cab. We didn't go to my grandmother's apartment, which surprised me because it was so close to where she lived. We went straight to this party, and my family dropped me off there. I didn't know anyone at the party, so I remember feeling really lonely. I'm a pretty strong introvert, so going up to strangers and making small talk makes me ache. I tried to make the best of it and entertain myself, but as I was running, I tripped and fell, all sprawled out on the ground with my glittery dress and alien hair.  Not cute. Not at all. I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. Instead, I just got up and waited until someone came to get me.  That's all I remember.

When I'm writing my novel, I need to think about what role holidays will play, and any funky scenarios I can embed. Will they celebrate . . . not celebrate? If they celebrate, how will it be? If not, why not? As I'm writing this, how cool would it be for Subria, Shiloh and Primus to go Trick or Treating together as little kids? Hmm . . .