Into the Realm

November 16

I told Nicole today.

It's Saturday, so we got smoothies and wandered L.A. Just like a normal Saturday. She holds the smoothies, I wheel her around. We went to a bookstore or two and browsed (we rarely actually buy new stuff, but tiny bookstores are just so nice to be in). We popped into a couple of thrift stores and alternated making fun of the stuff old people got rid of and considering buying random cute things we found. We wandered the random tree/strange stone structure park that's near our neighborhood, and Nicole stopped me every five minutes to make me pose for artsy pictures (her photography is the bomb. She even took my senior pictures).

Except it wasn't a normal Saturday. I tried to pretend it was, but nothing could make me forget what I found out yesterday, and what I still hadn't told Nicole as of 1 p.m. this afternoon.

There were times when I was distracted from it. Nicole could distract me from a zombie apocalypse. Honestly she'd probably have me laughing till my side hurt and I couldn't breath, all while being chased by gross green things demanding my brain. Except she probably wouldn't run. She'd just turn around to face the zombies, sit there in her wheelchair, and calmly say "fight me". Her savagery is what keeps me cheerful. She says she "keeps on the windy side of care". Apparently that's from a Shakespeare play. Most people are surprised when they find out she's the Shakespeare scholar in the friendship (apparently I look much more like that kind of nerd than she does), but I prefer my literature to be either of the musical or biographical variety. So she reads the Shakespeare and Sanderson (what can I say, she likes variety!), I read the thick biographies, and we exchange reviews.

Anyway, back to today. We had a funny example of the "fight me" coming out this afternoon. A lot of people tend to look at her and feel sorry for her - "oh, look at that poor black girl in a wheelchair, how sad [insert pouting sympathy face here]". Or sometimes they tell her that they admire how brave and strong she is (usually teachers). She, of course, hates those comments and looks, because she functions just like a normal human. Because she is one. We were in Half-Priced Books (best bookstore ever by the way), and this hippy-looking lady walked up to her. I'm honestly still laughing about their conversation.

Random lady: Can I just say that I am SO impressed by the amazing political statement you're making with your hair? I just think it's so sad that so many black girls try to, like, normalize their hair. Wild and free, girl. Wild and free.

Nicole looked a bit confused for a second, but she didn't skip a beat before looking up at the lady and saying: Okay, first of all, since when is natural hair "not normal"? And (I could tell the punchline was coming and I was living for it) second of all, is your hair a political statement? Because I imagine that you probably just decided you liked it a certain way and now wear it that way. Isn't that normal? Because that's exactly what I did. If you want to talk politics in the middle of a bookstore, find a better conversation starter.

She quirked an eyebrow, daring the lady to push it further. I almost wanted her to keep talking, just to see the roast session she would get herself into, but she only stood there long enough to make sure we saw her look of offended shock. As soon as she walked away I (quietly) lost it.

We went to her house later in the day, and as I lay flopped on her bed, I finally worked up the nerve to tell her.

Me: My parents told me yesterday that we're moving.

Nicole: Huh? That's weird. What part of the city? You won't have to go to a new school will you?

Me: Um, yeah, I'll have to go to a new school... We're... not exactly just moving across town.

Nicole: Uhhhh, what? Girl, you can't leave! You'll at least stay in this part of the country right?! Like, Oregon or Washington. Any farther than that and I'm hiding you in my closet until your parents leave.