In April of my last year in high school, I decided on the school I would attend, Duke University in North Carolina. I’d always heard nothing but awesome things about southern schools. I actually chose this school because I figured that it would be easier for O to adjust considering it was close to the metropolitan culture he was accustomed to. When I approached him with the idea, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay”. I thought it was strange but was too excited to deal with it right then and there.
Two weeks after graduation I visited the school for orientation in June. It was an adventurous weekend. During orientation, I met a lot of people from all over like a girl full of all things eclectic named Michelle from California. She was the orientation leader with a bright smile and a warm, familiar and energetic reception. The orientation group had just broken for lunch and I sat at a table alone when suddenly I felt a strong flow of energy emanating from near. I looked up and there was the orientation leader.
“Hi! I didn’t catch your name…” Michelle’s presence was bold and uncomfortably confident. I’d never seen anyone so forceful who wasn’t attempting to be intimidating.
“’Sup…my name is Rayna.”
My delivery was simply ghetto, so unrefined. I wasn’t accustomed to friendliness from other females and therefore would always come across guarded just in case. Where I was from girls had ulterior motives for wanting to be friendly, like cheating off your test or the attention of your brother. Especially being O’s girl, I’d become the object of lots of unsolicited attacks. You can’t trust anyone in the hood, no one.
Also, I couldn’t tell if this girl was black or white. She had fair-skin with curly, sandy blonde hair and brilliant hazel eyes. She was absolutely beautiful, but not in a vain sense. There were so many oddities going on with her. I wouldn’t trust what I couldn’t identify.
Michelle giggled. There was something different about her laughter. There wasn’t a hidden snarl, neither was there a hint of sarcasm.
“Where are you from? Let me guess, New York or New Jersey?”
I smirked embarrassingly, why, I didn’t know. Her innocent question somehow made me gush.
“Oh me? I’m from Jersey.”
Michelle nodded her head and with the same warm smile and humor in her tone, she belted out, “I knew it. You east coasters all have identifiable twangs.” She bit into her sandwich and immediately spit it back out. “Shit! This is disgusting. You would think they’d at least roll out the culinary red carpet for prospective students.”
It was my turn to giggle. Her ever-present smile had disappeared and out came a bit of a b-girl. I couldn’t quite articulate what it was about her, but in an instant, I felt a connection to her. Michelle’s aura was unlike any I’d known. She was pure and charming—for no reason. I never had the best read on people but her energy simply agreed with me. It was the strangest and briefest of initial encounters, but something clicked.
And then it started from there. We talked for the rest of my trip. Michelle introduced me to upper-classmen and told me how she aspired to be in business accounting and to go back home to eventually work for her family’s physical therapy practice after graduation. I told her how I wasn’t sure of what I would major in and spoke about my boyfriend moving down to North Carolina with me, but left my mother’s situation out of the conversation.