The way she shunned me afterwards. Like shunned me shunned me.
It could have been worse. I could’ve been the target of an elaborate prank that started years ago, slowly gaining my confidence, my inevitable falling in love with her.
In so many ways, it could’ve been worse.
But shunned. Like hard!
I needed to be humbled. A little modesty after my heroic return.
Nikki lived with me and my friends during my last year at Rutgers. I’m not sure how that happened actually. There were twelve of us sharing one house. People came and went. Nikki stayed.
Maybe it was Belly who suggested it. Girl to girl, making it happen. “Nikki’s living with us now,” she must’ve announced.
Cool, cool, we must’ve said, in between blunt rotations, another episode of The Real World, which ironically we were already living.
I remember picking her up sometimes from her job at Stop N’ Shop. She had two jobs to our one, because she actually needed the money. She was from around there–New Brunswick–though didn’t go to Rutgers. She was doing classes at Middlesex County, but you know, not to sound arrogant but, that’s a track of life I didn’t know about–I could afford to dream.
So when I told her I was going to travel the world, she was all in. Into my eyes, the stars that I would describe. She had this way of laughing. Loud enough to wake the birds up. She sounded like a chipmunk, sort of. Like one of the cartoon ones that sing.
I did my trip and came back, years later. Even I didn’t expect to be gone that long. That goodbye party was more like, see you in a few months. A few months became a few years, and then the little weed-head that I was came back all sophistamacated. I’d seen the world.
Not much had changed since I’d been gone. We weren’t going to Riley’s anymore (the punk bar on the corner with the stickiest floors in New Jersey); we were going someone else, somewhere that used to be lame but now wasn’t, for some reason.
Nikki was there the night I came back–came later–after her shift. Walked in and I didn’t really think I’d come back just for her–but then I saw her, and I knew that I had.
Nikki asked me about all the “Asian girls” I must’ve met on my travels, asking if they were pretty.
I sang in her ear. She danced on my lap.
I took her home. A new home. Some place I’d never been before.
She had moved out of the old spot. Everyone had. She was living with some other girls on Hamilton. New roommates I would never meet, but to whom I would later become a tagline, subject of an inside-joke involving small vegetables. Nikki would never be able to see a baby carrot again without a sudden peal of laughter.
Who does this guy think he is anyway? He travels the world and writes a novel, suddenly he’s Don fucking Juan? Dan Wang is more like it.
What was I expecting anyway?
I thought I was going to rock her world. With these sudden abs, evident from months of backpacking across Southeast Asia. I was feeling sexy. I had been places.
But me and Nikki?
She was beautiful with mocha-skin, caramel eyes, and brown curly hair. And I was…well, I’d been told that I vaguely resembled a Chinese pop-star I’d never heard of at a karaoke bar in Shanghai.
Alright, let’s do this, my penis said, doing its best to sound brave, but Lord have mercy. This was a lot of woman. A lot of history. A lot of…damn.
There I was, fluttering like a pilot fish on a humpback whale. We rose to the top together, breeching, falling in a gathering storm of white beach froth.
I remember her walking to the hallway closet in the dark and finding a condom. A Magnum the size of an Olympic medal.
“Is this (gulp) all you have?”
Days later (seven, but who’s counting?), I hung up. It was time to stop calling. Especially after that last voice message. (This is back when texting was considered to be cold)
Hey there, this is Chase. Just doing a follow-up call. A little check-in to see how you’re doing. I feel we may have drastically changed our relationship- err, friendship. And, well, I just want you to know I’m here in case you want to talk…or whatever…
I had to erase my identity immediately. I imagined Nikki laughing at my expense with everyone we were mutually friends with.
He WHAT?
With WHAT? A baby carrot?
My profile pic went dark, the first public declaration of personal woe.
I’ve got to let this breathe. Give it a year or two. Circumvent the globe again, come back, play it cool. Like, “Hey, how’s it going?”
“I’ve got nothing but love for Nikki,” I’d say to one of my old roommates if her name was brought up.
“Let’s just kiss,” I said. “Let’s get it over with.”
Time-travel back to an even earlier version of the world, the barely 2000’s, some winter afternoon before I ever saw her naked, or her me.
I had picked Nikki up from Stop N’Shop. The snow was coming down hard.
Parallel parked on the side of the road, a snowbank blocked her door from opening. Not intentional, but neither was the electric pink glowing against the snowy blueberry streets.
“You’re not ready,” giggled Nikki, who was at that time my best friend. “Chase, come on. Be serious! For real?”
“I’m serious, doll-face. I’m puckering up.”
“You’re so nasty, Chase! You’re crazy.”
“Listen mama. I’m hot for your honey, see? You got them gams and I want to shake your body.”
“Chase, are you really trying to get all of this? Can you handle a queen?”
“Let’s just kiss and get it over with.”
“Okay. I’m leaning in. You ready?”
“Ready.”
“One.”
“Two.”
She gives me a look. A puff of wintry breath exhaling softly.
“Three.”
We both lean in with our heads to kiss. Nikki bursts out laughing.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I- I.”
“Come on! It’s freezing in here. Let’s just go.”
“No, I-I,” finally controlling her laughter.
“Let’s do it again.”
“Okay, let’s do this. Whew!” she takes a deep breath. “Just give me a minute.”
Nikki closes her gold-flecked eyelids and breathes in.
I want to reach out and touch her hair, but she’s always saying you should never touch a Black girl’s hair. Should I ask?
“Okay, you ready?” Nikki asked, her chipmunk voice lowered enough to sound less cartoonish. Almost sounding sexy. She was doing her upmost to live up to how solemn this moment might be. To give this a real chance or at least get it over with.
The car was freezing.
“Three.”
I leaned in and felt her lips pursed together.
When I opened my eyes, hers were squeezed shut like she was in a horror movie.
“You have to be relaxed,” I said and awkwardly placed my glove on her mitten.
The second time was better. Her lips opened. I wish I had some ChapStick on me just then. For both of us.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Good” I said.
“I like your lips,” she said, leaning back, looking at me different.
“I like yours, too,” I said and leaned forward, wondering what it meant.
“Do you think I’m weird?” she asked.
The End