Before tonight, Mandy and I have been mostly respectful strangers. Not understanding each other and keeping a safe distance from our differences. In my mind, she was just an entitled prancer getting regularly drunk off Snoop’s favorite drink. To her, I was probably a Black girl from some ghetto in urban America where everyone is violent and low-class. Tonight, however, we have finally seen one another for the first time after months of living together. I could not meet her on the mountaintop of her privilege, but I can certainly meet her in the dark night of her despair. Here, united by the pain of injustice, we can be more than just friends or roommates. We can be sisters.

“I think you should report it,” I say again, surprised at my insistence, given my own experience. “What about the next girl? If you can’t do it for yourself, can you do it for her?”

After a few moments of silence, I say, “I wish I had told. I know a couple of the girls that came after me.”

Mandy leans over and gives me a hug, slathering me in her drunkenness. She lays on my shoulder for a few seconds, drifting in and out of sleep. “No more gin or juice for me,” she says before crawling under the covers.

I sit on my bed and listen to her snores for several minutes. I try to put the entire night into perspective. Sure, there are so many monsters out there, but some men are not. I repeat that to myself over and over like one of Earnell’s positivity mantras. All men aren’t monsters, I say to myself. I know this because of Bryce, who is the sweetest man I’ve ever met, and Earnell, who is a Black Prince Charming with a heart of gold. I hope that it’s more than just monsters and almost-brothers who want me, which has been the case so far. I pray a man who has basked in Rumi’s field will come soon and pierce through the madness of the world.

CHAPTER NINE

I wake up early the next morning and grab breakfast for Mandy from the Courtyard Cafe, which has an assortment of delicious breakfast options. I know what I would get for myself had I gone out for a long night of drinking: grits, bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, and fresh-squeezed OJ, the true breakfast of champions. I would feast on this soul food until my strength and vitality were restored. Mandy is an athlete with abs of steel, however. I know she won’t want the breakfast of champions. I try to think like a prancer. Hmm, what does she want to eat? I turn on my RWP sensor and scan the café for options. I settle on yogurt, granola, two boiled eggs, and a latte. I review the items one more time and feel confident in my choices.