Chapter Fourteen

"Have you been thinking about college?" My mother asks, casually while we are getting pedicures. I try to ignore the sensation running through my body from the works of this amazing massage chair.

"Yes, of course," I answer with a tight smile.

What I don't tell mother dearest is that thinking about college gives me the hives (metaphorically). I try not to think about how I need to have my whole life planned out in a matter of one year. My friends know not to approach the subject because unlike me they already have a life plan. Destiny wants to be a pediatrician, Erika wants to be an elementary school teacher, Kayden wants to be a sports journalist, and Dylan wants to be a computer programmer. While the only thing I know about my five-year plan is that I'll be far away from here.

She looks up at me from the book that she was reading. Currently, she's rereading for the millionth time Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I remember reading it during my sophomore year for English class. It was educational and well written, just not my cup of tea, but my mother has five hardcover copies and three of them are signed by the author himself before he passed. I remember that clear as day, she stayed in her room crying over her copies for hours. It was a day of despair in our household and every year she celebrates him on his birthday.

"What colleges have you been looking at?" I rack my brain trying to think of colleges that I can feed her so she'll drop the subject.

"You know," I stammer, nervously. "College Park, Morgan, Towson." I listed off a bunch of local colleges that I had no intention of actually attended.

Her eyes brightened at the mention of Morgan and Towson. Those are my father's alumni, Morgan for undergrad, and Towson for masters. My parents would be overjoyed if I picked one of those especially since I could live at home and they could monitor my every move.

I was glad when my manicure and pedicure lady, a Vietnamese woman named Hannah who I've been going to since middle school when nails and looking pretty started to take hold of my young mind, told me to head over to her chair; leaving my mother and the subject of college in the past.

I checked my phone for any notification before I was unable to use it for an hour. It was just a Tik Tok that Destiny sent me and a few texts from Jace regarding his drive back from D.C today. He was angry that he still had school tomorrow and I explained to him that he was only driving an hour back and should stop complaining. I didn't get to respond to his probably snarky response. He is the king of snarky comments and quick responses and strong wit. Jace may be a softy, but he's also amazing with arguments which is why he wants to go into law. I didn't know until last night when he explained the Marbury vs Madison case to me in a rather explicit manner. I remember calling him a nerd and changing the subject when he asked what I wanted to do. He was polite and didn't push; instead, he delved into the first 20 amendments, explaining those in the same manner as before. I listened with pretend interest because hearing him talk about something with so much passion erupted a feeling inside that was unexplainable to me.

"What would you like for lunch today?" My mother asked an hour later when we left the shop.

We were waiting at a red light but my eyes kept drifting over to the obvious marijuana smokers on the bus stop and the shifty looking gas station with the sign that was two seconds from falling onto an unsuspecting person's vehicle when they stopped at the convenience store for a pack of cigs. The nail salon isn't in the best location, but they do an excellent job. I look away to inspect my immaculate fingers painted in a sunny yellow in response to the amazing weather we've been having.

"You can pick," I answer back. I've never been good at making decisions, we would be here all day if I decided where we would go. She doesn't respond as the light turns green and she hooks a right turn.

We end up at our favorite restaurant, the ever famous Talia's. It's owned by a mother-daughter duo that mom went to high school with. It's next to one of the biggest parks in the city where the people are hipsters and ooze of new money. This is where you get quality seafood that all maybe three tourists expect when visiting our esteemed crime-ridden city. What we lose in safety, we make up for in seafood.

We walk inside the rather tight restaurant after spending nearly a century finding a parking spot that won't get us a ticket in the next five minutes. It's not as crowded as I would've thought considering it's nearly two in the afternoon on a Sunday.

We look out of place considering our church clothes are still on meaning past knee-length dresses and stockings plus my mother's one of those women who wear the big hats to church. She refused to take it off while we were in the restaurant like I begged her to in the car. I think she's doing it just to spite me, but jokes on her I plan on throwing the hat in the fireplace as soon as we get home.

We wait behind a gay couple holding hands and my mother shifts her feet uncomfortably. I stay silent as she glares at the backs of their heads and let out a noise of relief when the waitress takes them to their seat. They didn't see her rude staring and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life. Except for maybe my birth or getting my first iPhone.

Her face relaxes as they up the stairs and out of sight. A different waiter came back and seated us at a table next to a huge window and I could see the people sitting on the benches outside. I smile politely at him like my mother taught me, she's extra nice to waiters now since her week working at Friday's.

I see the people walking up and down the street. So many different stories. There's a young Indian girl bending down to pet an older white lady's dog. A man holding hands with a woman, both laughing, living, breathing. Their stories are so unique yet with the same ending. We all die at the end and when it's 3 am and I've run out of Disney movies to watch that's what I think about. I'm not afraid of dying, it's inevitable. I'm afraid of something much more arbitrary than that. I'm afraid of never falling in love. Never having my happily ever after. Maybe that makes me stupid or shallow, but it's true. No matter how it ends or how it starts, I want it to be magical. Head over heels, crying into my ice cream kind of love. Young and stupid and selfish kind of love. Many people will fall in love a million times in this lifetime, but I'm not asking for a million. Just one heartbreaking, out of my body experience kind of love. One that makes me question everything I've ever believed to be true about this shitty world. One that I'll never see coming, but will come at the time I need it the most. From the most unexpected source.

"What are you going to order?" I tear my eyes away from the window to focus on the menu in hand. I don't even know why I bother looking, I get the same thing every time I come here.

A waitress comes over and I read her name tag: Marley. She doesn't look much older than me, perhaps a senior as the oldest. Her silky blond hair is tied in a loose ponytail and she isn't much taller than me. Her features are delicate and her skin pale, but not ghostly. When she takes our drink order with a wide-toothed smile, I notice a Southern drawl. She's the perfect girl to solve the Jace never having a girlfriend problem.

I wasn't going to act on this impulse considering she's a complete stranger, but it was nice to think about. It was to my utter surprise when I excused myself to go to the bathroom shortly after she gave me my Diet Coke, that I would run into her washing her hands which I noticed were a nice Nude.

I seriously wasn't going to say anything until I noticed the bracelet she had on her wrist. Ed Sheeran. Jace's favorite singer. If I believed in God, this might've been a sign. That's why when she was finished I placed a hand on her shoulder and said:

"Marley, I'm about to change your life." She looked startled at the strange girl speaking to her in the bathroom

"Excuse me," Her voice was soft. Jace would love that shit with his sensitive ass.

"This is my friend," I pulled up a picture that I snapped of Jace that day at the park when the sun hit him just right. Her eyes widen and a small smile shows up on her face. "His name is Jace and I'm trying to set him up."

"I don't think he needs any help with that," She's still staring at the phone, practically drooling. I put the phone in my pocket and leaned up against the sink.

"Believe it or not, he does," I respond, wistfully. "You see there's two of him." She looks around quickly with a weird look.

"Like a clone." She whispers. I start regretting my decision.

"No, more like a twin," She nods her head in understanding. "Where do you go to school?"

"Clarkville," That's one of the only private schools in the city. It's nowhere near the standards of Jace's school or my fake one, but it's way above my real one.

"This is how this is going to work: you will give me your number and I'll text you a location and a time, meet me there, Jace will be with me, and I'll introduce you," She listens intently. I try to speak faster since I notice she's constantly checking the clock. "I will have a movie ticket, but I'll make up some excuse and you'll take it and see the movie with Jace. You guys will have to do the rest."

She looks excited at the prospects of being set up by a total stranger with some guy she's never met.

"Why are you doing this?" She asks after exchanging numbers. "Shouldn't you take him for yourself?"

"It would never work," I answer truthfully. "Plus, I don't think of him like that." She doesn't question me and excuses herself to go back to work. I end up following her out since after that I lost all need of using the bathroom.

When I return to the table, my mother looks up at me confused, probably wondering why that five-minute trip turned into ten minutes. She doesn't say anything though and I let her draw up her own conclusions.

I've never thought of Jace as anything more than a friend. Of course, he's my type, but it's something about him that just won't let me venture into the possibility. He feels so distant, out of the universe that I'm in. It's like he's not even supposed to exist to somebody like me. A black girl from a ratchet school and one block down from the hood don't exist in a world with Jace in it. I defied the laws of nature to even associate with him, it would be destroying the worldly balance if we dated. So, I never thought about it, never even let myself entertain the possibilities and venture through the world of what if's.

Jace needs a girl like Marley who knows how to survive in his world. A world that I'm desperately trying to be a part of. The world he thinks I'm from. A world with maids, cooks, private schools, designer shoes, and million-dollar thirteen-year-old birthday parties. He's never had to worry about the police or walking through your neighborhood. He didn't have bomb threats coming to your school after Freddie Gray was murdered. He doesn't have to double- triple check that you locked your door before you left the house or else somebody may come and take what's rightfully yours.

He wouldn't understand and that's not his fault. He wouldn't accept me if he knew where I was from and that's not his fault. It's just the way he was raised. There's nothing I can do except hope when he finds out in the distant future, if ever that he won't care because we have a friendship that can't be broken over something as stupid as a zipcode.

I was thinking about it when Jace called me around half past 10 to help him fall asleep. We do this on occasion when he has a test the next day and is anxious or when he's been overthinking and needs somebody to bring him back to reality. He says I'm the voice that calms him down. I didn't understand how it helped, but usually, I would tell him a story about me or Destiny or something in a book I read, and the next thing I knew I could hear his light snore. I've never thought my voice was soothing, instead it was squeaky and annoying or angry and rude. Never nice or calming. I hate hearing myself speak, but I'm glad somebody else likes it.

Tonight was just like any other night, I was telling him about a book I just read and he was quiet for a while. I assumed he was asleep, but when I stopped I heard him shift in the bed.

"Why doesn't anybody call you Let?" I was startled by his sudden question. His voice was gravelly and words slurred like he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Because it's stupid."

"Can I call you Let?" He's murmuring now.

"Why?"

"I want to be different," I roll my tired eyes. "Please?"

"Sure," I agreed, only because I was 99.9% sure that he wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning. "Good night Jace."

"Good night Let," His voice barely coherently whispered before sleep washes over him and I hear his light snore. I do the same and for once just in a dream. A stupid meaningless dream. I mess with the possibility of Jace and I being anything more than friends.