“No, it’s fine. It’s— Point well taken,” she says. “And in Kira and Bailey’s defense—they did try. But we had a history, and I couldn’t walk away without trying to make it work. I tried. It didn’t work. I’m moving on—trying to move on,” Maxine says.
I feel bad that all we’ve talked about is Jon. I change the subject by asking them to tell me what college was like for them. Kira says, “Well, I’m still in college, actually. This is my last year at Portland State.” Kira and Maxine talk to me about dorm life. Kira says, “Living on my own but still close to family was good for me. I needed that.”
Bailey went to the University of San Diego. “My freshman year was so hard. But after I found my spots—where to get the hair products I like, a black church, you know, the essentials—I was good.”
We talk till the sun is swallowed by the sky. We’ve devoured all of the snacks, so Maxine orders pizza from a gourmet pizza shop. When she asks what kind we want, everyone says things like feta and grilled chicken and basil, and Maxine asks, “What about tofu instead of chicken?” And I am sure this is going to be the nastiest pizza I’ve ever tasted.
While we wait for the delivery, the conversation stays on food. Maxine shares her newest smoothie recipes, and Bailey mentions how hard it’s going to be to avoid chocolate with Valentine’s Day right around the corner.
Bailey asks, “Speaking of V-Day. Anybody got plans?”
Kira rolls her eyes. “I know what I’m not going to do,” she says. “I will not be attending the performance of The Vagina Monologues at PSU.”
They all laugh.
Kira eats the last little crumbs of pretzels in the bowl. “I’ve really had enough. Every year the school puts this play on like it’s the only play about the issues women face. I mean, what about For Colored Girls?”
Maxine says, “They are not going to do For Colored Girls.”
“They have before,” Kira says. “A long time ago.”
Bailey asks, “What’s wrong with The Vagina Monologues?”
“Yeah,” I say. “What is it about?”
Kira and Bailey look at Maxine and Maxine’s eyes get big and I start feeling like I do whenever I know my mom doesn’t want to tell me something.
Bailey stutters, “C-can she—”
“Um, it’s a play that features stories about women. It, uh, it covers issues like love and relationships—” Maxine starts telling me.
“And rape, sex, getting your period for the first time,” Kira interrupts.
“Okay, okay, I think she gets it,” Maxine says.
Delivery comes, and once Maxine has brought the box into the kitchen, we all reach in to grab a slice.
Kira pours more iced tea for everyone. “Okay, so back to the conversation at hand. What’s the big deal, talking about that play? What? Jade can’t hear the word sex?”
“Kira!” Bailey throws a pillow at her.
The three of them go back and forth, debating over what I’m too young to know, what I’m old enough to talk about, and who should tell me.
I sit and eat my pizza. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. The sauce is really good, and there’s a lot of it, so I barely taste the thin pieces of tofu.
I wonder if this is what having big sisters would be like. I have always wanted an older sister. When I was ten, I asked Mom if she would give me a sister for Christmas. I had no idea what I was really asking. She laughs about that now, telling me I asked Dad, too, and he actually considered it.
We end the night playing round after round of Taboo. We alternate teams until each of us has partnered. It is getting late, and Maxine calls it a night so she can take me home. While we are cleaning up the mess we made, Kira whispers to me, “For real, though, if you have questions about sex or anything Miss Prude Maxine won’t talk with you about, let me know.”
“Kira—please leave Jade alone. She is not like that. She’s smart. She’s on scholarship at St. Francis and has a four-point-oh GPA. This girl right here is going places. She’s not going to mess things up by getting caught up with some guy,” she says. “I’m going to see to it she doesn’t end up like one of those girls.”
I know when Maxine says those girls, she is talking about the girls who go to Northside. I don’t know what to say. Every time I see Maxine, it is two steps forward, two steps back. Here I was, thinking how quickly it happened that I fit in with her friends and how we are easy with one another as if we have shared years of laughter. But then I think, how quick it is that Maxine reminds me that I am a girl who needs saving. She knows I want out and she has come with a lifeboat. Except I just don’t know if I can trust her hand.
33
lo mismo
the same
I am finished with my first collage about York, Lewis, and Clark. Mom thinks I’m obsessed with their stories. I tell her, maybe I am. Tell her that it’s interesting to me that a black man made the journey to find this place—the Pacific Northwest—when all I want to do is leave it. Mom says, “Just come back to me and visit every now and then.”
Tonight I make something about a different expedition. The one I am on. I want to get out, and I feel like a traitor for admitting it.
Maxine is right and wrong.
Wrong because I am like those girls. I am the Kool-Aid–drinking, fast food–eating unhealthy girl she wants to give nutrition classes to. I know all about food stamps and dollar menus and layaway. Know how to hold my purse tight at night when walking down dark streets, know how to duck at the sound of a shooting gun. I do. I am the girl who walks down the hallway, hoping for at least one boy to notice me. But the boys at school don’t like me because I look nothing like their mothers, look nothing like the Dream. The boys over here, well, to them I am good for tutoring and friendshipping and advice giving. I am.