The Other Black Girl(91)
Shit. “No!” I said, a sob clawing its way through my throat. “You can’t just leave me out here like this, Lynn. C’mon!”
“Go black!” Lynn shouted again. “Kenny’s around the corner. Just—”
Reluctant, but with no other choice, I slipped my cell into a nearby open garbage can, pivoting to run. But at some point during the call, a car had pulled up. I hadn’t noticed the soft click of a car door opening, or the subtle steps of shoes against the pavement. I only felt the firm hand take hold of my arm and yank me hard into the backseat.
15
October 20, 2018
Nella knew she was about ten minutes early when she arrived at the meeting spot, but she checked her phone again anyway. Nervous habit. So, too, was the way she kept pacing on the sidewalk, spending ten seconds over here, then fifteen over there. Facing south, then north as an icy wind whipped pieces of her afro into her eyes.
Those bored enough to notice Nella from the restaurant window behind her probably assumed she was up to no good, or maybe just a little bit off. And Nella wouldn’t have argued with any of them. She felt like a madwoman. People were bustling by her and she kept looking every single one of them in the eye, desperately. Many of them ignored her. Most gave her dirty looks. One man wearing a seemingly innocuous tie-dyed bandanna spat on the sidewalk in front of her and growled, “Get the fuck out of my face, bitch.”
Nella took this last interaction as a sign. She texted Malaika to let her know that the mystery person hadn’t shown up yet.
Good!!! Now go the fuck home. Seriously. You’re acting crazy.
Nella stared at Malaika’s words for a few moments, letting them sink in. Crazy. Yes. What was she going to do—fight whoever had been terrorizing her these last few weeks? She remembered C. J.’s bewildered expression when he’d asked her this very question that morning she told him about the notes. She wasn’t thinking logically. Out here, she was a sitting duck. If it was a manipulative monster who’d been sending her notes, wouldn’t she be screwed?
Nella looked around, eyeing the conveyor belt of people next to her. Then she turned and quickly ducked into the restaurant she’d been pacing in front of.
The restaurant’s bright yellow walls and the smell of hamburger meat didn’t especially put her at ease, but she pulled out one of the high stools facing the window anyway and took a seat. To her right, a couple of guys who’d been watching her conspicuously shifted their attention back to their hamburgers and whether or not Rob had heard back from his landlord yet.
Nella sighed and braced herself for at least eight more minutes of this conversation, keeping her eyes trained on the spot where she herself had just been standing.
But it wouldn’t be that long. Less than a minute had passed when she noticed a young Black woman ambling up to the corner of 100th and Broadway. She was tall, close to six feet, and her skin was an unusual shade of copper.
An uncanny bolt of familiarity struck Nella square between the eyes. This was the woman she had been texting. It had to be. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d stopped exactly where Nella had been standing mere moments ago, or that she looked more determined than any of the other people who were milling around her. It was all that, paired with a long, black calf-length coat that hid everything except for two black pant legs and a pair of black Doc Martens. The girl looked like she was on her way to meet Bobby Seale.
She also looked like she could have easily kicked Nella’s ass if she wanted to.
“Hi there, ma’am. How are you today?”
Nella tore her eyes away from the sidewalk. An older white man in an apron was wiping down the empty seat next to her, giving her a big Why haven’t you bought anything yet? grin. “Hi,” she said, after she’d secured her sights once more on the girl outside. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Just wanted to let you know right now we have a Saturday special going until four p.m.,” he said, “so you’ve got about twenty more minutes until that ends.”
“Thanks. I’m just waiting for a friend. She should be here before then.”
“Of course. Would you like to see a menu in the meantime?”
“I—” Nella glanced over at the sidewalk again to make sure that the girl was still there. Her brain seized with frustration, then relief, when she saw that she was. “Sure,” she said, exhaling.
“Great. I’ll be right back. You order up at the counter when you’re ready.”
The moment he disappeared, she looked through the window again and nearly fell off her stool. The girl had moved farther back onto the sidewalk—away from the street, and closer to Nella. Close enough that, if there weren’t any glass between them, she would have been able to reach out and touch the pink scar that ran along the back of this stranger’s head.
Nella eased forward a bit to get a closer look. This scar, the shape of a small moon… she’d seen it before.
They stayed like this for a little while longer: Nella staring at the back of this stranger’s head; the stranger staring out into the street. Finally, after what felt like forever, the girl pulled out her cell phone. Nella reached for her own phone, expecting to receive an annoyed text. But to her surprise, it stayed quiet.
“Sorry for the delay, ma’am.” The aproned man had suddenly reappeared, a few menus in hand. He placed them in front of Nella so gingerly that it made her heart hurt. “For you.”