Page 99 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“You laughing ’cause I look like a dweeb?”
“Absolutely.” She chuckles. “I could never do that with this chest of mine.”
“Yeah, I kn—” I say, then immediately catch myself.Assad, you’re messing up.“Um, I’ll get on first and then you can get on behind me.” She nods but hasn’t stopped looking at me. My comment stirred something in her, I can sense it.
I try my best to get on and not embarrass myself, wanting to say something about that night. But we just had a great day, it’s been over a year since I had her alone last, and I can’t ruin it by begging her for a do-over of homecoming junior year.
But God knows I’d give anything for one.
What’s got me is knowing the girl I was gawking at freshman year is the one who planted the bug in my ear about editing in the first place, and now happens to be in class with me, pursuing this weird obsession with literature that none of my boys get. I see what Grandpa meant now about a good woman being your rock.
She hikes her slender leg over my seat, her fingers gripping my shoulders as she settles herself on my bike, reminding me ofwhen her fingers touched every part of my chest. Then she hangs on to my waist. “You holdin’ on tight?” I ask, hoping she’ll lean in more.
And she does. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
We have three to four seminars each day and are told this will be the program structure for the next six weeks. After a few weeks of me dropping Lynetta off at home after class, she relents and invites me inside. I couldn’t chain my bike up fast enough.
“You still work both jobs?” she asks, passing me a cup of water.
“No, just the library. I have to free up my schedule for internships and jobs now. But I’m grateful, those gigs got me through school. College feels like a blur already.”
“You’re so inspiring. You did it all on your own,” she says.
I blush. “Yeah, it was surreal crossing that stage,” I reply, thinking of the sea of blue caps and gowns covering The Yard’s landscape during commencement. “I felt like I poured everything I had into that damn degree.” We both laugh, our eyes fixed on one another.
She pauses. “I invited you up, but I need you to know I’m not tryna do anything, Assad,” she says.
“Who said I wanted to do anything?”
“Oh, so you don’t?”
I feel like this is a setup. “I mean, whateveryouwanna do, I’m down to do.” She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Lynetta, I just love being with you.”
She sighs, sitting next to me. “I like being around you too, ’Sad.”
“I feel there’s a ‘but’ coming?” I say.
“But,” she continues, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. Tammy called me ‘loose Lyn’ that homecoming we hooked up and I know it was a joke but…I don’t know. I don’t want you to view me like that.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I want to assure you, that’snothow I saw it. You know how long I’d been trying to get your attention? You actually had a lot of restraint considering how we…I…felt.”
“It’s not just you,” she replies, then smiles. “I just don’t know you, is all.”
“Let’s change that,” I say, grabbing hold of her hand.
The next four weeks are like this. We meet some incredible veterans who all have a hand in the bookmaking process, and on days I don’t have to work, after class Lynetta and I ride together from the law campus to the main one to take in the last of our alma mater before I drop her off. We spend hours reminiscing on our time at Howard and our future plans, or studying at Founders while campus is dead, almost like making up for the time we didn’t get to have with each other while attending the school. Creating new memories for us to hold.
The program wraps with a recruitment fair, and while I’m able to talk to a few recruiters and the jobs sound appealing, I worry about the cost of living versus the starting salaries. After I spoke with a young, Black editor who came to Howard for one of our sessions weeks ago, it became clear the only way I’d afford NYC is through having many roommates and continuing my cheapcollege eating habits. And I’d still need another job while I was there. Yet, New York is where Lynetta wants to be and I want to be there with her.
To get some air, I walk outside to the building’s balcony, overlooking Howard’s reservoir. Mr. Harris isn’t far behind.
“Are you eyeing anything in particular?” he asks me.
“Honestly, they all pay so little. I’d still need a second job, and at least here I already have that lined up. But I do need experience.”
“Would you consider staying here another year and saving up?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s the only way I could realistically afford going to a place like New York.”
