Chapter 13: January to April 1986

Our second semester proceeds similarly to our first, and we work hard to prioritize each other, despite hectic class schedules. He rarely returns to his dorm, instead sneaking into Kyler.

We still share tender, intimate moments, but with all the noise in the active dorm, I struggle to relax, and thoughts of homework and exams consume most of my headspace.

My panic attacks have tapered, and I can’t remember a happier time. Colin’s predictions are materializing; more confident and proactive, I’ve formed an indescribable sense, an ability to foresee solutions, even with an exceptional number of unknown factors. Colin convinced me to join the chess club, and I’ve excelled too quickly for people to credit simple beginner's luck.

On the last Friday in April, we’re checking our mailboxes at the Student Union. Despite rarely receiving anything, we unlock the empty, tiny boxes every other Friday.

Today, my box contains a square, white envelope, my name penned in perfect loops. A twenty-two-cent seashell stamp sticks to the right corner, but the left contains no return address.

"Nothing, same as usual," Colin calls as he closes his box. "You?"

Biting my lip, I stare at the envelope, slowly turning it over in my hands. "Yeah." I hand him the envelope and lock the mailbox.

"No return address? That’s strange."

"Not really."

He follows the familiar path to my room, and I slam the door behind us. He jumps slightly; he’s never witnessed me slam a door.

He’s not accustomed to my anger at all.

I throw my backpack onto Joan's bed and extend my hand. "Let's assess the damage."

He gives me the envelope and drops his bag. He watches me closely as I tear open the envelope and remove a handwritten letter on two small, neatly folded sheets of lavender paper.

Ra'Shelle, I called Peggy, and she said that she hadn't heard from you, so I don’t know what you decided to do about the summer break. Surely, you're not planning on staying at the college when you have a perfectly good bed here.

Rex misses you a lot. I can tell. I know he’d appreciate seeing you over the summer.

I’m making good tips at the diner, and I’m seeing a guy who comes in as a regular customer. I think he might be The One.

I repainted the living room blue and purple, and I just made your bed with fresh sheets. I’d love for us to go shopping, and swimming, and catch a movie. I know you’d enjoy seeing your Mama.

I’m sure the post office lost your check. I know my good daughter loves her Mama.

You know the number.

My rage burns like a rising acid. I grip the papers’ edges, nearly tearing them. When I look up, Colin is eyeing me carefully.

"Feel free," I offer, thrusting the letter toward him.

He scans it. “Rex?"

"My dog."

"I can’t believe she sent this!" He folds and returns the now wrinkled note.

"What does this mean?" he asks, his voice heavy with concern.

"It means," I sneer, shredding the letter, "that she wants me to go home to pay off her debts. Like always."

"She didn't take the hint when you didn't send her money last time–or your message to Pete?”

"Guess not. Or just desperate times."

He leans against my desk. "What are you going to do?"

I shake my head, the anger swaddling me like a heavy winter blanket. “What am I going to do? I'm going to shred this into tiny bits, into pulp. Then, I'll vacuum the pulp and throw away the vacuum bag. Then, do my homework and forget that this letter ever came."

"Good."

My groan quickly evolves into a scream, and my rapid words drip with sarcasm and disbelief. "Why, Colin? Why?! Why couldn't she just leave me the hell alone? What does she think? She thinks I'm going to call her? 'Oh, Mama, read your note, so sorry that I can't make it.' Then listen to her plead for money or my company. Is that what she thinks I’ll do?"

Colin attempts eye contact. "You're not going to call her though, right?"

I watch the pieces of paper descend like gentle snow. "No, I am. Let's do it. Screw it. Let’s do it."

I pick up the phone, but Colin presses the hook.

"Don't do this, Ra'Shelle. Please. Nothing good comes from this. You don't win in this situation. Please."

I’m silent, and, for just a second, he convinces me. Then I shake my head. "No. No, let's hear it."

Colin sighs and lifts his finger. I dial the number and listen to both the familiar ring and my pulse.

My mother answers on the third ring. "Dawson residence."

"It's Ra'Shelle."

Her squeaky voice croons, "Ra'Shelle! Honey! You must've read my letter."

"Yes."

“When will you be home?”

"I'm not coming home, Mama."

"Staying at the dorm?"

Probably. "No."

"Staying with Peggy? I thought she couldn't care for you no more."

"I'm not staying with Peggy."

"Well, I don't wantcha homeless."

"I have friends, Mama. I'll be staying with friends."

My mother clicks her tongue. "I see. Well, I hope you're payin’ ‘em for room and board with some of that Black girl money you won."

"That's not why I received the scholarship," I say, rubbing my eyes.

"Of course it is. They need to make those numbers look good."

"It was for grades, Mama."

"Oh, baby, lots of kids earnin’ good grades. Lots of White boys graduatin' valedictorian."

Colin’s watching my anger swell, spreading from my gut.

"I have to g–”

"The way I see it," she interrupts sharply, "either you're usin’ some of your Black girl money to pay your friends–money which you should be sending home to help your mama–or, you're shackin’ up with some boy who's pretendin’ to give you the time of day ‘cause you always give it up. So which is it?"

Her booming voice grows crueler, the sing-song charade slaughtered, and I’m reminded of the morning of March 1, 1976.

"A selfish brat unwilling to help your mama or a slut continuin’ her easy reputation? Or maybe both, huh?”

Right on time.

I hang my head as hot, angry tears fill my eyes.

“Well, Ra'Shelle?!” she shrieks. “Which is it? What’s more important than helpin’ your mama? Your good-for-nothin’ daddy abandoned you, but I stayed and raised you by myself. You owe me this! After all I’ve done for you! Fed you. Dressed you. Bought you school supplies. Paid for a roof over your head. And this is the daughter I raised?! Did I raise a selfish slut, Ra'Shelle?!”

Defeated. I close my eyes.

“No, Mama,” I answer timidly. “I know I should appreciate everything you did for me. I have money left over. I can send you what I have." My stomach sinks, and I turn away from Colin, sensing his disappointment. "I'll do what I can."

The dulcet tone suddenly returns. "Oh, thank you, baby. I knew my good daughter wouldn't disappoint me."

"Of course not, Mama. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay, baby."

I lightly return the receiver to its cradle.

I stare at the phone, the anger swiftly returning. "Don't, Colin, okay? Just don't."

He takes a slow breath. "What did she say to you?"

"Reminded me of my roots."

Indirect responses often irritate the man who asks direct questions. “Meaning?”

"I'm a selfish slut."

"She what–?!" He raises his hands. "Ra'Shelle, you know that's not true."

Avoiding eye contact, I step around him to open the top drawer of my desk, remove my checkbook, and shakily pick up a pen. "Do I?" I spit.

"Ra'Shelle, please don’t do this."

I sigh. "Colin, it's just easier this way."

"Giving in? Yes, giving in is often the easiest way, but Ra'Shelle, as long as you continue to give her power, she'll continue to take it."

With a high-pitched scream, I throw the pen.

He steps back but doesn’t take his eyes off me.

I punch the top of the desk with the side of my fist. Again, harder. Again. Again. I turn around. "You're right, okay? You're right. Happy?"

"No."

I groan loudly, running my left hand down my face. "But maybe she's right too."

"She's not!" He takes a step forward. "You know that she's not. Her cruelty reverts you into teenage Ra'Shelle, child Ra'Shelle, but that's not who you are anymore. Come on, Ra'Shelle. You know this. Be the Ra’Shelle you are now."

"The Ra’Shelle who shacked up with her boyfriend over the holidays?"

"You know it's not like that,” he says sharply. “You know that you're not those hateful labels. You're a confident, strong, talented woman."

I hit my fist against the desk again and return the checkbook to the drawer. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

"I think I know you better than anyone."

I pivot quickly. "Really?"

"Really,” he says, “and I think you agree."

Anger and adrenaline shoot through me, and I take a deep breath. "Let's finish this."

"What?" He furrows his brow.

I pick up the phone and quickly redial the number. This time, it only rings once.

"Dawson residence."

I skip the pleasantries. "Are you sick, Mama? Cancer or anything?"

"No, baby, the doctor says I’m in perfect health, but it's sweet of you to ask."

"I'm glad, Mama." My adrenaline dances with my vibrating nerves, tangling my web of thoughts and emotions.

I take a deep breath and lower my voice. "The next time you contact me, in any way, including messages through Pete, I am going to come to the house and hit a bottle of your favorite whiskey against your head until it breaks, and then I’ll use the longest shard to slit your throat, and as you choke on your own cold blood, you’ll finally realize that no one, including your own daughter, is capable of loving the person you have become. You’ll be a feast for maggots before anyone bothers enough to check on you."

"Ra'Sh–"

Hot tears roll down my cheeks, but I will my voice steady. "I swear to God; I don't even care about the consequences. I swear to God. One more letter, one more call, and I will end you. Understand? Do not ever contact me again."

She’s screaming obscenities when I slam down the receiver and exhale slowly.

I look at Colin, but immediately turn away.

With tears still streaming down my cheeks, I open my dresser and remove the handheld vacuum cleaner. I quickly vacuum the pieces of the letter, throw the vacuum bag and envelope in the trash, return the vacuum to the dresser, and slam the drawer.

I stand in the middle of the room, my heart pounding against my ribs and tears continuing to fall off my chin. I take another shaky breath, look at Colin, and immediately drop my head.

"So," I say tremulously, "is this over? Are we over?"

I can feel his stare. "Why would we be?"

I look at him with raised eyebrows and gesture toward the phone. "Well, we just had what I'm fairly certain was our first fight, and then I threatened to murder someone." I wipe away more tears. "Not great dating material."

"First, it'll take more than one fight, which frankly is only because I care about you, to break this. We’re stronger than that.

“Second, while that specific homicidal fantasy was disquieting, finding closure with your abuser is admirable."

He takes a step forward. "Please tell me that you don't believe those ugly things."

I look away. "To reach out to me, she must owe a few months of rent and who knows what else. She's probably booked me for ten sessions. And Lassio will want his pound of flesh."

He leans to try to catch my eyes. "Ra'Shelle?"

"Oh God, she’s going to tell Lassio, he'll tell Pete, and Pete's still on campus. Oh, what did I do? I mean, what if they come and–"

Speaking softly, he takes another step. "Ra'Shelle, come on. Come back."

"The whole game depends on me not being a threat." I wipe away more tears. "I shouldn't have changed the rules."

I lean my head back. “I just made a terrible mistake.”

He takes another step. "Ra'Shelle, no one is coming for you. They don’t control you anymore. Okay? I promise; no one is coming." He takes another step, showing me his palms.

"No," I say quietly, backing away. "Don't touch me!" My hasty retreat knocks me against Joan's desk.

Startled, Colin steps back, falling onto my bed.

"I'm sorry," I whisper with a cracking voice. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"What if they do come?"

"They won't, Ra'Shelle. And you won't be living here much longer anyway."

Relief floods my veins. "True."

"And I'm here." He clears his throat. "If you'll let me."

I slowly drop to the floor. "I can't believe that I actually considered going back."

He eases off the bed. "They had a tight hold on you, Ra'Shelle. Fear overpowers logic."

I replay her cruelty, and I'm not sure I'll ever forget the phrase "selfish slut". I debate her points in my head and fight thoughts I’m too ashamed to share.

Finally, I take a long, deep breath. "That letter, that call, reopened something, Colin. More nightmares. More flashbacks. More attacks. I have to figure out how to stuff it back in the box again."

I slide to the middle of the room. "Let's try it."

He extends his arms, palms up, and watches my face.

I place my fingers on top of his and feel the bolt of electricity, but the stinging is too painful. Striving to power through it, I squeeze my eyes shut. "No!" I pull my hands back. "I can't do it. I can’t take it."

He takes a deep breath. "It’s okay, Ra’Shelle. We'll try again later."

"But I need you," I whisper, beginning to cry in earnest.

"You have me. Look at me, Ra'Shelle," he soothes.

I meet his gaze.

He nods. "You have me."

"All the progress, Colin, all the headway you’ve helped me make… It’ll be undone by a damn letter."

"No, it won't,” he says. “I promise."

"How can you know that?"

“Because Ra'Shelle, I think that conversation did provide closure, at least as much closure as you can find in this situation. It all but guarantees that you’ll never hear from her, or anyone she knows, ever again. Think about that. No letters. No phone calls. No guilt trips. It's over."

I rub my face. "I really hope you're right… What do I do now?"

"Go to sleep. The adrenaline will plummet soon. Take a nap."

"What about you?"

“Do you want me to leave?”

I shake my head.

“Then I’ll stay here and study. I won’t leave you.” He holds his hand out. "You want some help up?"

I unlace my shoes and stand on my own. I pull back the cotton sheet and slide under it. "Join me."

He cocks his head and raises his eyebrows, but I simply nod.

He removes his shoes and lies next to me, not touching me. “Listen to me. Are you listening?"

“Yes.”

"It's just you and me. Just Colin and Ra'Shelle. No one else is here. No one else exists. It's just you and me. Right here, right now, in this moment. No other."

He stretches out his right arm. "Just you and me."

I set my head on his shoulder. I wait as the electricity and feelings wash over me like a turbulent wave. I expect pain again, but instead I’m swathed by an overwhelming sense of relief, a feeling that only this moment matters.

I snuggle closer and press my hand against his chest. "Oh, Colin."

He exhales. "I know, babe."

"Can I have a hug?"

He wraps both arms around me and strokes my shoulder. "I don't want to ever let you go."