Page 62 of Pride and Protest
“Thank you. I’d like that.” How had she gone from stood up to angling for forgiveness? This night had to end. Had to. She closed her eyes, and her throat clenched at the thoughts that rushed over her. Dorsey’s smoky eyes and his warm hand on her bare back as he pulled her flush with his body. He had been excruciatingly intentional. And she had registered every stray thumb press, every flick of his eyes to her mouth and then down her bodice, every intake of breath shorter than the one before it. He had given so little, and somehow it was like a flood.
“Weren’t you stood up? Why do you look all gooey?” LeDeyasaid. She surprised Liza with her perceptiveness sometimes. LeDeya walked out of the bathroom, all legs and swaying breasts. God help her, she looked ten years older than her tender sixteen years, even with all the makeup off.
LeDeya laid her head on Liza’s belly, and the two girls formed a crooked T on the overly soft hotel bed. She grunted and moved over something uncomfortable. “Ew. I opened this Tiffany box and it was just a used book. I would be so pissed. Does Dorsey hate you that much?”
Liza’s head shot up from the bed. “Don’t open my gifts, Deya. Gimme the box.”
She must have looked feral, because Deya squinted her eyes. “Damn, here. You look real pressed right now.”
Liza took the box, trying not to snatch it out of her sister’s hands. Whatever this was with Dorsey belonged to her alone.
It didn’t mean she wasn’t excited about WIC coming tomorrow. She wanted so fiercely to protect her choice to her mother that she told no one of the creeping doubt that came over her about WIC sometimes. The way a surprise frost ruined the first buds of spring, Liza fought the coldness that threatened to creep in. But she always did this, foundonefault with a person and turned them into the villain in her story. If she was honest with herself, it had kept her single for longer than she liked. WIC was handsome, charming, woke, and a brother. He already had three traits up on Dorsey. Liza stopped herself right there. Images flickered in her head like a faulty projector.No. Get thee behind me.
“Have you guys, like, done anything?” LeDeya asked.
“Who?” Panic constricted her throat.
“Who else?” Deya laughed. “WIC.”
Liza bristled. Why had the thought of sex with WIC seemed so great that morning? Now it turned her stomach, which wasnot something she’d admit to anyone. Her mother and LeDeya would tease her mercilessly.Liza found a flaw again! One hair’s out of place, so Liza dumped him!
“No, and I won’t until I’m married,” Liza said. LeDeya huffed and reached out to pinch her older sister’s thigh.
“I’m not a child, you know,” LeDeya said, without real conviction.
“That is exactly what you are,” Liza said. LeDeya fell asleep then, her head still resting on her sister’s belly. Liza slowly uncurled herself from her sleeping sister and padded to the balcony. Slowly, she opened the box. A book from a Harvard sociologist on eviction. Of course it wasn’t a necklace.
He knew that this was what she would love from him.
She flipped through the book. It was marked up around the margins with his brusque handwriting. She ran her thumb along the grooves of the earnest markings and a tear fell and spread the dark ink across her fingers. She finally saw the note.
Liza—God, the way he wrote her name!
Let’s discuss! This was illuminating. It really is all coming together.
He was self-educating. He had a blind spot and he was doing the work. Shit. All she ever wanted was a little effort. She held the book to her heart. It was such a tiny gesture. But it was worth more than what would have been in a real Tiffany box. She rocked in her chair. Two fifteen a.m. was no time to grip her phone so tightly. Ugh, she had to text him.
Was I a prop?
She had to ask now. She wouldn’t be brave in the light of day. He would get this text in the morning and be faced with how toanswer, but she had gotten her part out. Liza was surprised to see three pulsing dots on her phone.
No.
Typical Dorsey response—concise, to the point. No fat on that bone for Liza to chew through. Now he had placed a response back on her, and she fumbled for once in her life for a witty reply.
Why did you dance with me?
Liza bit her lips. The reply came quickly.
I wanted to.
Well, it’s kind of a now. Wanting to do something is no reason to actually do it.
If I didn’t do it, how would I know?
Know what?
That I want to do it again.
