January 16, '01
Aiyana's POV
"Okay Tiffany, I'm out girl," I called out over my shoulder to my co-worker.
"See ya!"
Before leaving the fabric store where I worked, I swiped a yard of discarded velour from a table. The discarded pieces were usually resold to the Chinese tailors across from our store at a much lower price; stealing it didn't really seem like such a theft.
I ran out of Mood Fabrics and nearly sprinted my way to my college, the legendary FIT. It was still surreal that I had managed to go there and excel for the past year. As a girl, it had seemed like a faraway dream, a place one could only imagine going to. Some of the biggest names in fashion were notable alumnis: Calvin Klein, Nanettle Lepore, Michael Kors etc...
It was the first college I had applied to in my senior year. I had a 4.0 GPA, a GPA most of the people in my school couldn't touch, but I still beat myself up over the 1487 I got on my SATs. My guidance counselor told me it wasn't bad at all, but it wasn't a 1550, like I had prayed and studied my ass off for. I felt relieved when I found out my grades were just good enough to get me into most CUNYs, but it felt like winning the lottery when I found out FIT was damn near a safety school for me.
There are very few moments in life when I get my way: three to be exact. The first time around, I was 5. It was a hot summer day at Central Park and an ice cream truck's enchanting tune drew me out from under the tree where my mother, father, and little sister had laid out our blanket and Subway sandwiches. I silently pleaded with my eyes for a cone of vanilla ice cream and sprinkles before my father walked me to the truck and got me a whole sundae.
The next day, I woke up to a gang of cops searching the house for something and my dad in handcuffs with his head facing downwards, in shame. One of the cops smiled and waved at me, but I stuck my tongue out before hiding behind my mother, who frantically tried speaking to my dad.
The second time I got my way, I was 14 and a freshman in high school with her very first crush. His name was Devonte. He was a junior, a gang member, and a fine ass nigga. All the girls had a crush on him at some point, but when they stopped, they stopped.
It was the day of the potluck for Thanksgiving. I had just gotten a plate and was making my way up the flight of stairs to class when Devonte ran down the steps, along with a couple of his friends. Cliché as it was, he ran right into me and my mashed potatoes, turkey, greens and mac and cheese.
His friends laughed out loud, with their mouths all open like a bunch of dicksuckers, but Devonte looked sorry. He told his friends off and helped me clean out the food in my hair in the girls bathroom.
At some point, when there weren't any chunks of mashed potatoes left in my hair, he looked at me the way my dad used to look at my mom before he'd kiss her. And he did kiss me. I felt high as a kite and all I could think about was our beautiful future before someone came into the bathroom.
It was Evelyn. I didn't know her, but it was my understanding that she was part of the sister gang to Devonte's gang. She walked back out silently, but gave me a look before doing so. Devonte left as well and said "Don't walk home alone today."
But I did and as it turns out, he was warning me of imminent danger I was just too blind to see. I got jumped a few blocks past the school, by the same girl who'd found me and Devonte kissing in the bathroom, along with her friends.
And so, the third time I got my way, meaning getting into FIT, it was a bittersweet affair. God let me have very few things without some sort of retribution in the end, so I proceeded with caution to FIT, went to my classes, aced them, astounded my teachers with my skillfulness and creativity, all the while waiting for the clog in the pipe.
Eventually, something had to give and give it did. It came in the form of letters, specifically, bills. My tuition payments were all covered by a scholarship my guidance counselor had managed to find, but my books and countless materials were far from cheap, not to mention that I still had to pay my family's bills.
My mom had missed her deadline to renew her welfare case, which left me having to pay the gas, electric, and rent until she went back. I already worked multiple jobs: day shifts at Macy's on weekdays, the library on Saturdays, tutoring on Sundays, and night school with FIT, but I still needed another source of cash flow and fast.
Keeping that thought in mind, I flew up the stairs and rushed straight to class.
***
"This is a Bronx bound 2 train. The next stop is one hundred thirty-fifth street," the train's automated announcement boomed out loud, waking me up from my sleep.
Realizing this was my stop, I got up, grabbing my bag and my large portfolio before making a run for the door. "Stand clear the closing doors please," I heard right as I stepped off the train. The doors shut behind me and I let out a deep sigh, checking the time on my watch: 12:32 am.
I dragged myself out the station, down the dark, mean, and dirty Harlem streets, into the piss-scented elevator and straight to bed. It took only a second before I fell into a deeply needed slumber.
***
I woke up the next day to find Maji and Jalen had already left to go to school. I'd been seeing less and less of them lately, but at least they stopped getting to school late. I made my way to my mother's room and cracked the door a bit.
"Mama?," I asked tentatively.
"Whatchu' want?," she let out in a gruff voice that told me she'd been yelling again.
"You ate dinner last night? I know I came late."
"Mmcht. I'm fasting. What the hell is wrong witchu', asking a fasting person if they ate? Demon," she spit out as she gathered her pamphlets and her pills.
She pushed them into her fanny pack but not before throwing several pills into her mouth. I watched her swallow them with accustomed ease, as I tried to control my anger.
"So, you're working at the Church today?," I asked cooly, while walking away towards the kitchen.
She followed behind, saying, "Of course. The Lord's work is the--,"
"Most fulfilling job to do in a world of demons," I finished off her mantra, rolling my eyes.
"That's right. Not like th-that ... that blasphemous sewing you do in your room all day."
"Nope. I can't do it all day if I'm too busy working to pay the bills around here," I clapped back.
"God will give us what we need. You don't have faith, that's why you never get anything," she yelled suddenly.
"Whatever, Mama. I don't have time today. Don't forget to take your phone witchu' when you go screamin' in the streets about how we all goin' to Hell."
I made my way to the shower and got myself ready for work before giving her the chance to respond.
***
"So I was like, 'Brian, don't fucking cum in me, I swear to God, if I get pregnant, I'm gonna kill you,' and all he said was 'Relax babe'," Sarah, my co-worker at Macy's said.
"Wow," I replied, completely disinterested.
She was one of those basic white girls whose parents punished them by making them work to "teach them about the real world." It's nice that they tried, but I didn't understand why they had to punish me as well.
"Ooh, there's a total hottie at the cashier," she whispered excitedly, while obnoxiously smacking on her gum. "You know, I think he's like, literally staring at you ass."
I rolled my eyes and said, "You're fuckin' annoyin'," while turning around, only to find the guy I had met at the New Year's Party.
If shock was a person, mixed with a little embarrassment and a big load of pleasantly surprised, then that person was me, right now.
I moved to the cashier and when I got behind it, I whispered softly, "Hi."
"Yo," he jutted his chin at me. "Nice to see you again... Yana," he said in a sly manner and though his eyes were covered from his sunglasses, I could see his lips twitching, itching to smirk.
"I thought I told you to call me Aiyana... Twix," I responded, as I rang his items up. Armani and Louis, huh? He didn't strike me as the type to wear Italian and French coutoure.
"You can't tell me to do shit," he laughed out loud, catching someone's attention from the belt section. It was none other than Mr. Bobblehead, Cam'ron.
"Yo, what's funny? What'd I miss?," he asked.
"Yana is for my friend and my family," I continued.
"And me," Twiggy shot back, this time lifting his sunglasses up to the top of his head.
"Who the fuck is Yana?," Cam'ron asked, desperately.
"And who is you?," I asked Twiggy, ignoring Cam'ron and his blatant invasion of our conversation.
"Michael Jackson, baby. And I'll let you call me Michael if you let me take you out," he answered.
My jaw dropped, slightly (I think) before I felt my face get hot. I started patting my hair down and wiping my palms on the sides of my legs.
"T-t-take me out?," I spilled out, feeling stupid for stuttering.
I'd had minimal interactions with guys ever since the whole Devonte thing. I'd figured they weren't worth it anyhow and hadn't tried to date since then. It wasn't that I was scared of Twiggy or anything; this was just relatively new to me.
"You good?," Cam'ron asked me, raising an eyebrow.
Facing him, I remarked, "Why don't you go back to shopping for some belts?" Looking him up and down, I finished off by saying, "You need 'em."
Chuckling, he walked away, leaving me and an equally amused Twiggy.
"I can't go out witchu'," I finally let out, with a heavy sigh.
"Why?"
"Cuz, I can't."
"Why?"
"Boy... Look, I wouldn't ever have the time to go out witchu'. I just work all day, okay?"
"Saturday?"
"Working."
"Sunday?"
"Working."
"Now, why you lyin'?," he said skeptically. "Don't nobody work all week and on Sunday."
"Well, I do."
Huffing, he looked around. I printed his receipt out before he asked, "What about lunch?"
I thought about it for a moment. Lunch wasn't so bad. I wouldn't have to listen to Sarah and whatever she got going on in her life. Plus, he'd pay, which would save me some extra money. I couldn't see a downside, so I smiled and said softly, "Okay. But only once."
He smiled at me, and whispered, "Coo'", before taking his receipt and the pen on the counter. He wrote his number down on it and slid it my way.
"Call me when you get off," he bid me, before walking off with his bags and friend in tow.
"I should totally start like, a matchmaker show," Sarah announced from behind me.
"Yeah, sure," I muttered absentmindedly, folding the receipt up to fit it in my pocket.
A/N: Was this chapter too long? I might just shorten them, idk yet.