My freshman and sophomore years at Georgetown flew by like I couldn’t believe. I was finally getting my bearings on how things worked up here. It took almost two years for me just to learn my way around campus not to mention the city. Washington DC was quite different from Alabama. The creative culture of my beautiful Black brothers and sisters mesmerized me from the moment I arrived here. There seemed to be an openness in the air that made it easier to breathe and be yourself. I truly felt like I belonged here.
Much to my mother’s dismay, I didn’t visit Alabama often. I only went back home for Christmas and for a week or so in May. After getting that first taste of living on my own, I knew there was absolutely nothing waiting for me in Alabama, so I came back to DC and made the most of my time by attending summer school.
During the second semester of my sophomore year, I pledged a sorority and now, in addition to my two sisters back home in Alabama, I had a sisterhood of women around the globe who were in love with the colors pink and green.
My sister, Shannon, would be attending Howard University in the fall and I was excited over the idea of having her
so close by. Like me, Shannon couldn’t wait to leave home. She was anxious to experience the sweet life that I’d bragged about in my letters home. Being miles away from our father’s reach was freedom. I tried to recruit Shannon to attend Georgetown but she was more interested in an HBCU.
“Ain’t hardly no Black people at Georgetown,” Shannon observed during her one and only visit to DC before she enrolled in school. “I need to be where the brothers are. Plus, I know Georgetown don’t party like Howard.”
“Shannon, you can’t party your life away. School is school and you are going to have to work just as hard at Howard as you would any other college,” I explained.
Even though my father stifled a great deal of our freedom, Shannon still managed to be the wild one. She pretty much did what she wanted to do regardless of the consequences. She was always being punished for one thing or another. It just didn’t seem as if she cared about the rules our father set.
“What else can he do to me that he hasn’t already done?”
“I would think that you would be tired of that by now. Your life would be easier if you’d just do what he says and stop fighting him,” I advised.
“Please. And then what? Be quiet and scared like you and Mama? No thank you.”
The dating scene on Georgetown’s campus was okay. Every once in a while, I would go out with someone from a class or that I’d met while working as a student assistant in the financial aid office. The only drawback about dating someone I’d met at work was that he would probably be on financial aid like me and couldn’t afford much more than a movie or the occasional splurges for lunch at Johnny Rocket’s. But never both at the same time.
I quickly realized that living in my father’s strict household had made me socially retarded. I was so uncomfortable around boys and grew deathly nervous each time one would try to kiss me goodnight after a date. My first kiss was with a boy that I really liked and wanted the relationship to grow but I allowed my painful past to sabotage it.
Marcus Wallcot and I met during an Economics 201 study group and the attraction was almost immediate. We talked on the phone every night until the wee hours of the morning. Marcus was kind and very pleasing to the eye. On our first and only date, we went to see Angel Heart. Sitting next to Marcus, and watching the explicit sex scenes in the movie, made my face hot and my hands sweat. Marcus never even looked my way. He just kept crunching his way through the tub of popcorn and slurping on his giant Sprite. When we arrived back in front of my dorm, Marcus leaned in to kiss me. It was my first kiss and I was startled by the tingle that erupted between my thighs. Thoughts of my childhood and the fucked up things that occurred between the walls of my parent’s shotgun house stampeded my brain. When Marcus slipped his tongue in my mouth, I jumped out of the car, ran into the building, and never looked behind me. Marcus called me for days after that but I refused to speak with him and ignored his confused stares at me during class. I knew that even if I were to attempt to explain my behavior, I would put my foot in my mouth and there was no way Marcus could possibly understand it.
To spare myself humiliation and embarrassment, I just spent most of my time either at work or in the library. I knew that once I moved into the sorority house my junior year, I would be forced into becoming a social butterfly. Our chapter threw a house party at least twice a month.
The school year began with the sorority’s annual back to school jam at the house and practically every Black person on campus would be there. The week leading up to the party was crazy. Not only did we have to deal with registering for classes and settling into the residence but we also had a party to plan.
The night of the party, I was having so much fun that I forgot to be tired and nervous. Shannon was able to come on Georgetown’s campus and I enjoyed introducing her to everyone. From the beginning, Shannon made herself right at home. She flirted and danced with every man in the place. I was amazed at how much more outgoing she had become.
“C’mon, Nikki. Stop holding up the wall, girl, and dance,” she begged breathlessly.
“No thanks. I’m having a blast just watching you.”
When the deejay played Push It by Salt N Pepa, Shannon shrieked, “Aww shit, that’s my jam!”
She grabbed the first person in her path, pulled him out onto the floor, and danced like a demon possessed.
What in the world is Shannon doing? Has she lost her mind? She doesn’t even know this guy.
Her movements were overtly sexual and left very little to the imagination. At first glance, it appeared that Shannon was just dancing and having fun. But, the more I watched her; it was as if she was in some sort of trance. Whatever it was, her fine ass dance partner was enjoying every minute of it. I, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed. And, to be honest, I was a bit envious of my baby sister. Shannon was so free and so uninhibited. She was doing exactly what she wanted to do and she didn’t care who was watching her or what they thought about it. I wished I could be that bold. I was also thankful that my parents were nowhere to be found because watching Shannon dance like a Soul Train dancer on crack would send the two of them straight home to see Jesus face-to-face.
I also began to worry about my sister. I hoped that she wasn’t moving too fast into the world of being free and on her own. There were dangers that she wasn’t aware of and probably couldn’t handle even if she did know about them. I definitely needed to have a talk with Shannon before her wild behavior led her into harm’s way.
Knowing Shannon, she won’t listen to anything I have to say.