16. Gemini Black #2
“What were you cooking?” she wanted to know.
“Shit, everything. Spaghetti, burgers and fries, shrimp pasta, all that. I was making all kind of money doing that. My roommate would help me pack the orders up, so he always ate free. My room used to be jumping. Everybody was knocking on my door trying to get a plate,” I shared with her.
As I was telling her these things, I said it with a smile on my face because it quickly started bringing back old memories.
“Gemini, that’s crazy. I admire the hustle though,” she told me.
“I’m going to assume that at your luxury predominately white institution (PWI) wasn’t doing that over there?” I shot.
She knew that I was trying to be shady when I said that shit because she paused from sipping on the wine that she was holding in her hand, and when that eyebrow arched, I knew that she was about to talk her way into a debate with me.
“Oh, let’s not do that love,” she shot right back at me. The way she said it made me laugh.
“What we doing, baby?” I wanted to know, picking one of the steaks up with the tong in my hands, so that I could place it on the griddle.
I picked them up one by one, laying them down on one side of the griddle. Since the griddle was big enough to fit different foods, I was able to place the seasoned shrimp down on another section, along with the asparagus.
“Turn this into an HBCU versus PWI debate. I know you, Gemini. I know what you’re trying to do,” she went on to say.
“I’m not doing shit, baby. I’m just talking,” I responded, standing back with my arms crossed, watching her with a smile on my face.
She was so fuckin beautiful. The sun was setting right above us, so it gave her more of a glow. She sat there with that glass of wine in her hand, her leg crossed, looking like she was ready to go in on my ass.
“If you have a child, right? Would you want them to attend an HBCU or a PWI? Answer quickly,” she said. I laughed at that.
“Oh baby, I don’t need time to think. All my kids going to HBCU colleges. They going to stomp on the same hills that I did,” I was honest with my opinion, and when I said that, she groaned.
“I disagree with that,” she said, putting the wine glass down, and folded her arms.
“I expect you to disagree with me on that. Why though? I’m curious to hear this,” I responded, arms still crossed, eager to hear what her ass had to say.
“Before we have this debate, I don’t want you to feel like I’m saying that PWI’s are better than HBCU’s because that’s not what I’m saying at all.
I don’t even agree with that statement. My argument is that if my children work hard in school, and they went all four years of high school making good grades, taking those tough AP classes, scoring in the top 10% on their test scores, I wouldn’t deprive my children of attending a university that they’ve dreamed about simply because it’s a PWI.
That’s how I feel about it,” she went on, and I nodded my head.
I knew that she wasn’t finished yet, so I kept quiet, letting her continue.
“I want my children to have options. I want it where their academics open so many doors for them, so that it isn’t an easy decision on what university they should attend for college.
When they do decide, if they pick a PWI, that’s their choice.
If they pick an HBCU, that’s their choice as well.
I don’t want to get in the way of that. I also don’t want to already pick out the college for my kid, before they’re even born, without knowing if that’s something that they would even consider,” she finished.
Her points were valid. I understood where she was coming from, but that wasn’t the same feelings that I had.
“I hear you, baby. I swear I hear where you’re coming from. I just don’t agree with it,” I said.
“Okay, but why?” she asked.
“Yes, kids go to college for their education. That’s the main point, but bae, it’s about the experience too.
You even told me the other day that you didn’t always have the best kind of experiences at those white private schools that you attended.
That kind of shit is important to me. I don’t want my children to sit in rooms where they feel they don’t belong.
I want them to sit in rooms where they fit in.
I need my kids around blackness. They gotta see black professors, black doctors, and lawyers.
White people have already shown that they can go on to get those big degrees.
My kids gotta see that they, and others that look like them can do it too,” I told her.
“And I don’t disagree with that at all, Gemini. I understand that point. Would it be fair for me to say that after graduating from an HBCU, they’ll enter a world that isn’t majority black?” she asked, and I nodded.
“That’s fair to say because it’s true. An HBCU will definitely have them around nothing but blackness.
For those four years, they will be in a bubble, seeing nothing but other kids that look like them.
Eventually they have to come out of that bubble and enter the real world that isn’t majority black just like you said.
I have a comeback for that though. My kids will be rooted in black before they step into the real world.
They’ll know exactly who the fuck they are, so they’ll be able to navigate any kind of room.
Just a couple of weeks ago when we were in Louisiana, and that racist cop came at me all crazy.
The fact that I knew exactly who the fuck I was, and I didn’t have to prove myself to that cop is the sole reason why I didn’t get arrested that night.
My confidence was already high before I stepped foot onto that college campus.
College just helped to reinforce it. Those PWI’s can’t teach my black kids that,” I finished.
Amina understood my points because she sat there nodding her head.
“I understand that. I do think that it’s important for black students to be in spaces where they’re celebrated.
I felt like I was only included in a lot of the schools that I attended, and there’s a difference.
Even with that, it gave me a level of confidence, knowing that my test scores and my grades were just as high as the other kids that didn’t look like me.
It showed me that we can do just as much as they can do.
I believe that my black kids should also know that there shouldn’t be rooms that are off limits to them as well.
If they have the qualifications for those rooms, then let them go.
Just know that when that day comes, don’t push HBCU because you loved your experience, and I won’t push my PWI because I loved my experience. Let them choose,” she finished.
I respected the answer that she gave me. You could tell that she was passionate about what she was saying to me, and that’s why it held my respect. I did find myself smiling though because something that she said stood out to me.
“You basically just agreed to having kids with me,” I said to her, and she smiled.
“I’ll be a fool to not give you kids. You are the man that I would want my sons to be like. You’re the man that I would want my daughters to bring home. I mean that, Gemini,” she let me know.
When she said things like that to me, it made me feel good.
She thought so highly of me. I thought highly of her as well.
I always made sure to give Amina her flowers.
Remind her of how beautiful, smart, and perfect of a woman that she was.
The same way she could confidently say that I was going to be the father of her children is the same way that I could say it right back that she would be the mother of my kids.
We finished with the debate and talked about other things. Because we did all this talking, it seemed as if the time flew by.
Before I knew it, I was grabbing two plates and fixing our plates. The sun officially set, but there were floodlights out here, that helped to keep it well lit.
I grabbed a seat at the table with Amina, sitting on the right of her. Like we always did whenever we ate together, we grabbed hands, and she was the one to bless the food.
The food was so good that we barely did any talking while we ate.
Amina let me know twice how much she enjoyed the meal, but everything after that was silent.
She ate everything on her plate, and I did the same.
I ate much more than Amina did, so after I finished with the first plate, I went in for seconds.
When we finished, we cleaned together. Put everything back where it belonged, and now that we were done, Amina was standing in front of me.
She had her arms wrapped around my neck, while mine were glued to her ass, placing kisses on her forehead.
She eventually jumped up in my arms, so that I could carry her.
Like she was a baby, I slowly bounced her in my arms, while rubbing her back. She was placing soft kisses on my neck. She did that for about two minutes, and then lifted her head, so that she could look at me. Her eyes were a little misty.
“What’s wrong?” I wanted to know.
“I feel like my feelings for you are growing by the second,” she admitted through a nervous laugh, and a tear falling down her face, that I kissed away. I smiled at her words, knowing what she felt because I felt the same way. Like she said, my feelings were growing by the second, not the days.
“You love me?” I just went ahead and asked the million-dollar question. When I asked her that question, she dropped a couple of more tears, while nodding her head up and down, letting me know that she loved me.
“Say it then. Tell me you love me,” I encouraged her to do it.
“I love you so much, Gemini,” she was able to get it out to me, even with her voice cracking.
The emotion that went into her telling me she loved me, let me know that she was for real. I could feel it. It was obvious in the way she looked me in my eyes to say it. The way her body was trembling. The way she had her arms wrapped around me, damn near clinging onto me.