Infinite Us(51)

And that's where the problems started to surface.

"No matter what you say, no man is gonna be too happy about someone like me … "

"Don't you finish that sentence." My face was flushed and my lips still swollen from his kisses when I pushed him back. It was the same argument we'd had for a week and it stemmed from my parents wanting details about why I'd broken up with Trent.

"Someone like me coming to knock at his front door telling him I'm there for his little girl."

"You don't know him. My family isn't like that, especially not my Dad."

But he hadn't believed me, not then, not even when I told him my brother had come to see me, not batting an eye over why I'd decided to remain on campus during the summer break instead of staying with our family at the lake house.

Ryan had come to my dorm, a care package from my mother under his arm, and had gotten downright nosey about how I'd been spending my time.

"It's a man."

"What?" He watched me shove the box into my room and waited in the hallway to walk with me to the park. "You've been drinking, right? Long night at Gadsby's that you haven't recovered from? I know how the ice well fascinates you."

"Listen to me, little sister, I know you better than anyone. If you were just busy with studying and school projects you wouldn't have missed Sunday out on Lake Deer Creek. Not with the Crafts joining us. You love Joanie Craft and haven't missed a chance to race her to the pier since you were twelve."

"I'm not twelve, Ryan."

"Obviously," he said holding the door open for me as we left the building, "but that whole not being twelve thing didn't stop you last summer. She complained the entire weekend about not being able to have a rematch."

He hadn't been wrong. No amount of studying could quell my competitive nature, especially not against Joanie Craft. She was a sore loser and I'd wanted to beat her two years running. But then Isaac borrowed Lenny's Bel Air and we drove down the G.W. Parkway for hours. The roads twisted into loops along the backdrop of lush green forests that seem to stretch on for acres and hilltops that billowed up and down among all that thick greenery. They were supposed to be building a state park in the area, but the day had been a little overcast and the road was nearly empty. It had been a perfect afternoon. Isaac parked along a dip in the tree line, hiding the Bel Air behind thick-hanging limbs that brushed the ground. I blushed to think of how we spent those next few hours hidden behind the greenery, with the birds serenading us and the breeze blowing through the open windows.

I hadn't thought about Joanie Craft or our swimming races all afternoon. There had been Isaac kissing my neck, quoting Zora Neale Hurston, telling me with his mouth and fingers what he thought it felt like when "love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." He loved her work, so did I and we got drunk on Hurston's words, on the slow, honeyed sound of Billie Holiday working her own poetry on the radio, on the scent of sweat and sweetness of each other in that car. There had only been Isaac and me and the sound of his heartbeat against my ear as we watched the purple sky becoming inky black.

"So?" Ryan had said, the question hidden in the inflection of his voice.

"So, maybe there's a guy."

There was a little tease edging around his laugh and I knew I'd be harassed relentlessly. We cleared the main campus water fountain and neared the park benches, a row of thirteen to symbolize Lincoln's greatest accomplishment. It was on the last bench that I sat with Ryan's focused stare waiting on me to elaborate.



       
         
       
        

"Do I know him?" Ryan stretched an arm behind me on the bench and I concentrated on two pigeons flying between the spray of fountain water across from our seat. The day was warmer than it should have been for early summer, but there was a breeze that made it bearable.

"Not unless you're familiar with the cleaning crew in the library."

Ryan's smile dimmed, and an eyebrow shot up. "Cleaning crew?" I nodded, silently inviting him to ask the accusatory questions. "As in, janitor?" Another nod and my brother went quiet.

He knew what that meant. There weren't many white men doing service work at the university. As part of their cultural policy, the university had made work-study enrollment possible, had even offered audited classes to their employees who wanted to improve well enough to become full time students. Students of any race could subsidize their tuition with student worker jobs. Lenny was one of those students and Isaac was working toward that as well, aiming to start at Lincoln the next semester. He just needed to perfect his application and work on his admissions essay. But it was common knowledge that many of the student worker service positions were held by black students.