Scott Spencer - A Ship Made of Paper

“You have a new thesis?”Daniel asks, as soon asArdizzone is safely away.

”Yes.So, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.I think I’m stalking you.I’m sorry.”

“It’s strange seeing you here.”Her voice drops to a whisper.“It’s strange seeing you with your clothes on.”

“Don’t excite me,”he says.

“You missed a spot shaving,”Iris says, touching his upper lip.Her short hair glistens and her fingers smell ofthe oil she has rubbed into her scalp.“Are you having trouble facing yourselfin the mirror?”

“No.”

“I am.”

“I’ve given myselfover to a higher power,”Daniel says, smiling.“And you’re it.”

“Sounds convenient.”

“It’s a lot ofthings, but ifconvenient is on the list, I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s okay,”Iris says.“I’m not trying to hassle you.But I’m finding this verydifficult.”

“I’m sorry, Iris.I don’t know what to do.”

“You want to know the truth? I’m miserable, frightened, guilty, sleepless, I feel like a criminal, and I think I’m getting a flu or something, and I’m happy, happier than I’ve ever been.”She looks over her shoulder.

”Oh shit, here she comes, perfect timing.”

“Who?”

“Kalilah Childs.This girl, this kid, I keep running into her in the library.She keeps trying to get me to join the Black StudentAlliance.”

“Maybe ifwe start necking she’ll go away.”

“Too late,”Iris says.

Moments later, Kalilah Childs is at their table, a dark, fleshy nineteen-year-old girl in faded denim overalls and work boots, wide-eyed, cornrowed, wearing a multitude ofrings, bracelets, and necklaces.

The jewelry is, for the most part, African, though she also wears a pearl necklace given to her by her parents when she graduated first in her class from her Quaker high school in Philadelphia.A scent ofsandalwood is on her clothing.Rarely serene—she is acknowledged as a genius at Mar-lowe, and the pressure is immense—Kalilah now is particularly agitated.

She looms over Iris and looks as ifshe might pounce upon her.

“Have you heard what happened toAlysha?”Kalilah says.She doesn’t acknowledge Daniel’s presence.“Three guys jumped her at that pizza place out on Route One Hundred, and one ofthem kicked her in theear.”

“Oh no,”Daniel says, though as soon as his expression ofshock is uttered, he realizes that in this particular situation he is meant to be quiet.

“Is she all right?”Iris asks.

”She had to go to the hospital.Now she’s in her dorm.Her mother’s coming up from Brooklyn to take her home.”

Iris nods, taking it in.“Actually,”she says,“I don’t think I know Alysha?”She says the name uncertainly.

“You would ifyou ever came to a meeting,”Kalilah says.The finger she shakes at Iris has three rings on it.

Iris presents Kalilah with a slow, composed smile, one that would have stopped Kalilah in her tracks ifshe were two years older or ten per-cent more perceptive.

“When am I supposed to go to a meeting, Kalilah?”Iris says.“I’m trying to get my work done and raise a family.And going to school when you’re older is really difficult.You can’t understand.You’ve got a supple young brain, and all this fire and certainty and sense ofpurpose.I’m struggling just to get through, and don’t have anything left to go to any damn meeting.”

“You’re not old!”Kalilah says, her voice rising—it’s hard to say ifit’s out ofconviction or discomfort.“And we need every one ofus.Look at what happened toAlysha.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to her.”Iris puts particular emphasis on the final pronoun.

“Well it could have been you, or me, or any one ofus,”Kalilah says.

“That’s why we need the Black StudentAlliance, and that’s why you need it, too.”As Kalilah says this, she turns slowly and lets her eyes fall to rest on Daniel.

“You know what, Kalilah?”Iris says.“I don’t join clubs, or groups, or any ofthat stuff.Okay? Oh, sorry.Kalilah Childs?This is Daniel Emerson.”

“Nice to meet you,”Daniel says, halfrising from his chair.

”Hello,”Kalilah says, her face pleasant, a little placid.

Daniel thinks this would be as good a time as any to leave.Iris senses his thought and places her hand on his wrist.

“What ifmy friend Daniel wanted to join your club?”Iris says.

“Would that be all right?”

“No, and anyhow I bet he’s not even a student here.”

“Well, let’s say he was.Then could he join?”

“Come on.It’s forAfrican-Americans only, students and faculty.”

“Well, I would never join that kind ofthing.I don’t think I could be friends with Daniel ifI joined a club that excluded him.How do you think I’d feel ifDaniel belonged to an organization that didn’t allow African-Americans? Do you think that would be all right with me?You think that wouldn’t be grounds for ending the friendship?”

“Well, he does belong to a group that excludes you,”Kalilah says.“It’s called the white race.I presume you’ve heard ofit.Try joining it.”

“Daniel didn’t join it,”Iris says.

”Well, he’s in it.”

“Actually, I resigned,”Daniel says, at last able to speak.“But it’s like the Mafia, you know, they keep pulling me back in.”

“That’s pretty funny,”Kalilah says.

Iris looks at her watch.“I’ve got class,”she says.She picks up her briefcase, zippers it shut.A tremble goes through her hands and Daniel realizes just how angry she is.“You know, Kalilah,”she says.“You’ve got a great future ahead ofyou in politics, ifthat’s what you choose.”

“That sounds like a put-down, coming from you,”Kalilah says.

”You just don’t take no for an answer, and maybe that’s good.But it doesn’t work with me.You think you’re the first person who’s ever told me I need to be doing this or that for my people?You think I haven’t heard it from both sides ofmy family?And both sides ofmy husband’s family, too? I’ll tell you the same thing I say to them.You believe in free-dom? Great.Then let me be free.Is that so hard? I’ve got one little life to live, that’s all, that’s the whole thing.Don’t I have the right to live it the way I choose?Why do I have to do what you want me to do?Why do I have to join your group, and say you’re like me and I’m like you and we’re all together? It’s really shit.You know that, Kalilah? It’s total shit.

And ifyou want to talk about racism, let’s think about this—you look at me and all you see is brown skin.You don’t know what I’m going through in my life.You don’t know what kind ofresponsibilities I’m dealing with, or what the pressures are, or anything else.You don’t know what I eat, or where I live, or what I want, you don’t know ifI sleep on my back, or ifI’m wanted for murder inTennessee.All you’re registering is the pig-mentation.So how are you different from some white racist?”

“You don’t give us a chance to know you,”Kalilah says.

By now, Iris is standing.“That’s what I’m doing now,”she says.She kisses her fingertips and touches them against Daniel’s cheek.Then, be-fore another word can be said, she turns and walks quickly away.

Daniel and Kalilah watch her cross the cafeteria, and then are left with each other and the silence between them.

Thanksgiving arrives.Daniel and Kate are fleetingly bound together as they collaborate on a story to explain the bandage on Kate’s forehead, as well as her black eye, as they sit at the dutifully laden table with Ruby, and with Carl and Julia Emerson.

The Emersons are amazed but not inquisitive as they listen to the story ofKate’s car’s jammed accelerator, and Daniel, to lend some verisimilitude to the tale, hints darkly that a very serious lawsuit may be in the offing and that Kate may be living on easy street by next year.“And I’m going to get my beak wet on this one, as well,”he says, uncorking the wine, walking nervously around the table and filling glasses.