A Love Like This (Book 1) Read online

  “Ima go talk to that motha fucka.” I catch Pookie’s arm.

  “You know what happens every time we get involved. She’s going to have to decide when she’s had enough.”

  Nickie sits in the car looking at her lap. Damian smiles at Pookie and me. “How ya’ll doin today?” He says, his sparkling white teeth gleaming in the morning sun.

  Pookie glares at Damian. Sudden recognition registering on his face; “didn’t I see you somewhere this weekend?” Damian’s smile fades. He gets back in the car and speeds off.

  “Um hmm, somebody’s got a secret.”

  Chapter 2

  It was a sunny eighty-three degrees when I left LA. I hugged my uncle goodbye and nearly sprinted to the ticket counter at the airport. I was so excited about starting my new life as a UC Berkeley junior. However, my excitement was short lived. The grey clouds and brisk air in the Bay Area instantly darken my mood. By the time I get to Berkeley’s University Hall I’m exhausted and my feet have blisters from the heels I’m wearing. I park my bags in a corner of the administration building and text my sister Keisha while standing in the registration line. “Cold here ready to come home,” I type while the line slowly moves forward.

  Keisha replies a few minutes later, “Girl please, all the money Momma and daddy had to pay for you to go to UCB you better put on a fuckin jacket and suck it up.” I want to tell her that Momma and daddy paid for part of my tuition but a large portion will be covered with student loans.

  I write, “Just rude! Have you heard from Nickie?”

  She replies, “No, Pookie told me what happened. She’ll be MIA for a minute.”

  A red haired girl with a spare tire and an irritated look on her face taps me on the shoulder and points to the three foot gap in front of me.

  I roll my eyes at the girl and continue typing while moving forward, “I’ll talk to you later kiss those bad ass kids of yours for me.”

  Keisha responds in seconds, “Yeah I will…. And you dislodge the stick from your behind!”

  I pick up my class schedule and listen to an uneventful speech about becoming acclimated to university life. There are five other students in the group. All of whom have their eyes glued to the tour guide. They diligently take notes and eagerly answer every question presented. I try to pay attention but can’t prevent my eyes from glazing over with boredom. I slip away from the group pick up my bags and trek across campus to find my dorm room.

  I’m sweating through my dress despite the cool breeze and curls have escaped my bun and are falling around my face. I reach the room and amble through the front door nearly tripping over a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. I maneuver around the mess and sit on the bed closest to the window. I look around the room and sigh. It’s a little dusty and smaller than my bedroom back home but at least there’s a drafting table and two closets. I can get use to sharing a bedroom but my clothes and shoes need their own space.

  I reach into my purse and pull out the Papyrus gift bag from Nickie. Inside the bag is a brown leather-bound journal with the word ‘Love’ printed on the front. I open the first page and in Nickie’s neat flowery writing are the words, ‘This is the year you’ll fall in love.’ My heart warms thinking of my kind gentle big sister but the only thing I’m going to fall in love with this year is the inside of the library. “Maybe she means that rhetorically,” I say to myself. I peel off my dress, heels and stockings then slide into palates’ pants, a plain blue baby-t and paint stained Chuck Taylors. I spray and wipe the desk, chairs and floor with lavender scented cleaner and paper towels I brought from home. I seriously consider cleaning the other side of the room but figure it might leave the wrong impression. I unpack my clothes then go through the room little by little and make it my own by hanging prints of abstract architectural sketches. As I work I try to figure out how I’m going to learn to live with such a slob. “I mean who leaves all of their clothes right in the middle of the floor,” I say to the empty room. I decide to discuss this with my new roommate as soon as possible.

  When the room looks and smells more like my room back home I feel a little less homesick. There are certain smells that just make me feel happy: the smell of fresh cut grass, the briny smell of the ocean or the smell of concrete after a summer rain. Lavender is at the top of my list of feel good smells. I sit on my bed thinking about home. I jump up when my new roommate rushes in like a strong wind. In one swift motion she hugs me--- releases me then swirls around on her heels and looks at the room. “Holy Moses this place is gorgeous and it smells so good. We have to go shopping. I want my side to be pretty to. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself.” She places one hand on her chest, “Sarah Goldman drama major.” She is wearing a short tan and orange peasant dress with puffy sleeves. She has long straight blond hair parted perfectly down the middle and a Pocahontas headband around her forehead. Sarah is about five inches taller than me, slender with angular features and bright green wide set eyes that seem to take in everything at once.

  I’m stunned by the charge of words being hurtled at me. I shake my head to clear the fog and extend a hand. “I’m Leila Peterson architecture major, nice to meet you.”

  “Architecture ooh no that will never do it’s much too sensible.” Sarah plops down on my bed and I wince. “Your bed’s so soft,” she says rubbing the pink satin duvet. “I never thought a dorm bed could be so soft. Why architecture, you should be a decorator or better yet a designer so that the whole world can enjoy your creations.”

  “An architect is a designer and it has very practical career options.”

  “What are you mean options? I know a shit load of people who would pay through the nose to have you make their homes look this good.” She waves her hand and motions around the room.

  “I’m not sure how to respond to that,” I say.

  Sarah bounds to her feet. “We’ll worry about that later, tomorrows problems will take care of themselves. Tonight we party!” She takes hold of my hand and drags me out the door.

  “Sarah, are you on medication?”

  “No sweetie not anymore,” she says as we trudge down the hall.

  “You do realize tomorrow’s a school day?”

  “What are you nuts? You’re in college. It’s a well known fact that you only have to dedicate two or three hours a day to school. You can spend the rest of the day sleeping and the night living.”

  We walk around the rear of Dwinelle Hall and approach a group of men and women standing in front of Durham studio. They all look so theatrical. I half expect them to start snapping their fingers and break into a scene from ‘West Side Story’. Sarah leaps over to a man in white tights posing in the first position of ballet. She grasps the back of his neck and presses her forehead to his. She steps back and he lifts her hand above her head and she twirls around on demi-point. It’s like some strange courting ritual. The group claps and Sarah bows.

  “Everyone this is my new roommate Leila Peterson. She’s going to be a designer and make the world beautiful.” They all turn and look at me with bright welcoming smiles. I extend my hand to a girl about my height with thick black untamed hair and shiny brown doe eyes. The girl introduces herself as Kira with a heavy Russian accent. I wonder if the accent is real because I’ve never met a black woman from Russia. I marvel over how friendly everyone is but I look down and feel self conscious about my appearance. I tug at the baby-t that reveals about an inch of my stomach and start to back away, “It was nice meeting you all,” I say with a quick wave.

  “Leila, don’t go we’re going to hang out for a while maybe head over to the city and see where the night takes us.” Natives to the Bay Area refer to San Francisco as The City as if its surrounding areas are less significant by comparison.

  “I’m going to have to take a rain check. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.”

  Sarah gives an exaggerated pout, “Another time then. I’m
going to hold you to that promise,” she says pointing at me.

  “You have my word," I say.

  Sarah bows and saunters off.

  I’m walking backwards waving goodbye to Sarah and her friends. I turn around and my head smashes into what feels like a brick wall. I fall flat on my butt. I sit there stunned for a moment with the wall I ran into and its cohort starring down at me looking amused.

  “I’m sorry,” he says extending a hand and effortlessly lifting me to my feet.

  “Great, first I find out my roommates insane then I run into a building.”

  “Are you hurt?” He asks with a slight chuckle.

  I dust myself off without looking at him. “No but you should really consider wearing a sign or reflectors.”

  “I’ll look into that,” he says.

  I walk off mumbling the words, “big lump,” and I hear him laugh and say, “I like her,” to his friend.

  “Nice ass,” his friend replies.

  I will not look back at either of them. I’d probably get knocked up by osmosis.

  ****

  I wake up when I hear Sarah fumbling with her keys at three in the morning. When she manages to get the door open she trips over the pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m sorry shh I’m sorry, go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She says with a slur.

  “It’s ok, you alright?”

  “Yeah just need to----“

  I sit up and see that Sarah is on her knees with her head resting on the foot of her bed. I get up and help her into bed. I take off her shoes and cover her with a quilt.

  “You’re a good friend Lisa,” Sarah says.

  I don’t bother correcting her. I put a plastic bag inside a metal trash can and place it near the top of Sarah’s bed. I climb back into bed and a few minutes later I hear Sarah throw up.

  “What the hell have I gotten myself into,” I say.

  The next morning I wake up early, step into my fluffy slippers and open the curtains that I hung the night before. Sarah makes a low guttural sound and pulls the blanket over her head. I make my bed, shower and start the tedious process of pulling my hair into a bun that makes my almond shaped eyes look like tiny slits in my face. I dress in leggings, an asymmetric tunic and Robert Clegerie Virgo over the knee boots that I found at a thrift store. I nudge Sarah when I get back into the room. She is flat on her stomach sprawled across the bed drooling onto her pillow. She stirs mutters something about chicken anarchy then opens one eye and squints up at me.

  “Hey you,” She says in a sing song voice while stretching.

  “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

  “Don’t worry you won’t have to stage an intervention. I’m not going to be coming home drunk anymore,” she says.

  “I’m not worried. You’re old enough to take care of yourself.”

  Sarah rolls onto her back and sighs loudly. “It’s just that Kinsley broke up with me last night just because I gave Todd a blow job. I mean how insecure can he be,” she waves her hand in exasperation.

  “Uh I’m gonna head off to class. I’m glad you’re ok.”

  Sarah continues, “I really liked him and he broke my heart.” A tear drops from Sarah’s eye and rolls into her ear.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” I put my thumb and forefinger on the bridge of my nose and close my eyes tight. “Sarah guys don’t usually like to think of other guys shlongs in their girlfriend’s mouth. They’re kind of weird that way.”

  Sarah looks at me as if she’s considering the validity of this statement. “You’re honest, I find that refreshing.”

  “Alright, I’ll see you later and since we’re being honest please don’t forget to brush. It smells like a woodland creature died in your mouth.”

  Sarah puts a hand in front of her mouth and blows. “Blah,” she says and gags a little. “Honesty, I love it.”

  I shove my new journal into my leather messenger bag and leave the room. I stroll across the quad looking at the ground not really seeing any one or anything around me. I keep up a good stride past protestors, people passing out flyers and a few guys who are clearly pledging a fraternity. I know it’s ridiculous to think that I can spend a whole year in seclusion but I figure if I just keep my head down and stay focused on my work I’ll get through this year without incident.

  I’m the first to enter the class. The lecture hall in the Architecture and Economics building is bigger than any I’ve ever seen. I find a seat directly in front of the white board. Next, I place three sharpened pencils, a yellow legal pad and a pink mini laptop on the desk in front of me. I sit with my hands folded on the desk until the silence in the room is broken by a loud growling, “shoot,” I say clutching at my stomach. I tap my nails on the table and check the clock on the wall. It’s 8:33. If I leave my things I might have time to run to the cafeteria before class. My stomach rumbles a second time louder this time. I slump down in my chair. Visions of the fried chicken my mother cooks at least once a week and the peach cobbler and collard greens Keisha makes every time one of her kids has a birthday party dance around in my head. I wipe the corner of my mouth where a little drool escaped then take out my phone to call my mom. Dana answers on the first ring. “Hey mom,” I say excited to hear her voice.

  “Baby girl,” She exclaims in an animated slightly out of breath voice.

  “What are you doing? Why do you sound like you’re running?”

  “Girl, Keisha’s got me at this pole dancing class. I’m trying to keep it tight for your daddy and nearly broke a hip.”

  I bite the inside of my bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Momma please stay off the pole.” I let my head fall onto the desk.

  “I gotta go baby I’m up next,” I hear a loud hoop followed by a thud and then the call disconnects.

  I bang my head on the desk again as the visions of peach cobbler are replaced by a picture of my 5’0 tall mother twirling around on a pole with her ginormous backside dragging behind her. “Stripping mother and an insane roommate what’s next?” I’m consumed with my thoughts and don’t’ realize someone has walked in the room. I lift my head and right in front of me is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen close up. He’s well over six feet tall with a broad muscular chest. He’s wearing Ralph Lauren chinos and a crisp white button down shirt. He places his book bag on the floor then eases his massive frame into the seat next to mine. My stomach growls again. “Damn it!” I say.

  “Hungry,” He asks.

  “Way to state the obvious,” I say then squeeze my lips shut before another smart ass comment escapes.

  His lips part into a mischievous smile and my hunger pangs are replaced by butterflies. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday. You walked away in such a hurry.”

  I look down at his brawny chest and my eyes widen with recognition. “You’re the big lump.”

  He extends his hand, “Or you can call me Tucker which ever you prefer.”

  I shake his hand. He smiles at me again and I feel all squishy like melted butter. I don’t pay much attention to white guys. I assumed if a white guy was interested in black women she would have be statuesque with long flowing hair and light skin. Since I’m 5’ tall on a good day and my hair rarely flows I’m sure he would never be attracted to me. But still this man is beautiful and I find it hard to look away from his dark blue eyes, dimples and that square cleft super hero chin. I subconsciously lick my lips. I’m sure lusting after one guy won’t lead me down a path of destruction. The class quickly fills with students and a woman resembling a turtle in wire rimmed glasses stumbles up to the white board.

  “I’m Dr. Katz and this is The Social and Cultural Basis of Design. Let me start by introducing my student teacher for this course Tucker Bradley.”

  He leans over and whispers, “You’ll have to let go of my hand now.”

&nbs
p; “Shit, I’m sorry,” I say feeling mortified as I pull my hand away.

  He stands and takes his things to a desk in front of the class. “Tucker just completed his doctorial thesis and he will periodically take over the lectures for this course," Dr. Katz says.

  I put on reading glasses, power on my laptop and prepare to take notes on Dr. Katz’s lecture. Every time I glance over at Tucker I feel feverish so I concentrate intently on my notes forcing myself not to use the legal pad as a fan. When Dr. Katz’s lecture is complete Tucker stands to speak. I look to my left and to my right and see that there are only girls on the front row. They all lean forward with their eyes fixed on Tucker. He starts to speak, his face all business, “When you leave class today I want you all to take a minute and observe your surroundings. I want you to pay attention to the people on campus, the vendors, the merchants on Telegraph Road and the passersby on the streets. These are the people that your future businesses will serve. I want you to see yourself as agents of change and think about the needs of others in everything you do. Think of ways to improve lives while following your passion. I know it sounds cliché but if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life and if your goal is to bring about change the whole world will benefit.”

  The class applauds and a few female students stampede to the front of the class. I try not to notice them laughing and touching his arm. I busy myself by packing my books and laptop. Before leaving the room I take a quick glance in Tucker’s direction. I know it sounds stupid but my knees go weak when I see that he’s looking past all the groupies and watching me. I leave the A&E building with a smile and walk to the center of the university on a cloud. It’s like my eyes are opened for the first time. I am taken aback by the architecture of the old buildings. The pillars on the library alone are worthy of any museum. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. I didn’t even notice the giant clock that looks like Big Ben even though it’s visible from everywhere on campus. I reach the protestors in the quad and see that they are all holding signs about saving the redwoods. A small thin bearded man wearing a colorful hemp hat hands me a flyer about the university’s plan to cut down the ancient redwood trees in order to build a new sports center.