Reaching for the stone necklace around her neck, she pulled it from her blouse and let it rest in her palm as she methodically rubbed her fingers across the warm carved surface. Comforted, she began to undress and put on some pajamas. Setting out all her homework on one side of the bed, she grabbed her laptop and settled herself against the headboard. Looking around her room, she tried not to let the depressing realities of her life sink in. Unlike most other young women her age, she didn't go off to college in some faraway place putting much-wanted distance between herself in her family, she had no colorful dorm room designed just the way she wanted, and no time for a job that gave her money and independence. Her room was still the same since she was twelve, the same furniture, the same layout, and the same pictures on the wall.
"But I have a plan," she told herself firmly as she toyed with the stone necklace. Letting it dangle just before her face, she brought it closer, letting the light of her bedside lamp shine through the iridescent red amber stone. "I am going to work hard and obtain a study abroad position, hopefully with either the archaeology department or my own, the art history department. Either way, I am getting out of here," she confessed to the stone. "Either way, I will be free."
Chapter 2
Having gotten only a few hours of sleep, Nadira stood next to her desk, gathering her books when she paused. Looking out her window, she could see the dark windows and rooftops of her neighborhood and imagined people snug in their beds, unconsciously waiting for their alarms to wake them for the day. That was what she should be doing instead of packing her backpack and getting ready for the day at four-thirty in the morning, but like most nights, sleep eluded her.
Walking with practiced stealth across her room, which was directly over her parents' room, she carefully grabbed her coat and bag and silently moved down the stairs. Depositing both bag and coat on the back of the couch, Nadira walked into the kitchen, knowing already what she expected to find. Two big piles of dishes sat precariously on both sides of the sink, waiting for her to clean and put them away. Glancing towards the kitchen table, she was actually surprised to find it wiped clean. Moving as silently as she could, Nadira picked up and moved the dirty pots and pans, giving her at least one empty side of the sink to work on.
Using only the dim yellow light above the kitchen sink, she worked alone in the silent house cleaning and drying the dishes. Hints of the morning sun lightened the dark sky until it was a soft sleepy grey by the time she stepped out to her car. Closing the heavy metal car door behind her, Nadira let out her habitual exhale in the quiet solitude of her car. Though it was old, the heater didn't work, and it squealed relentlessly as she drove, Nadira would never not appreciate the luxury her car indirectly provided her: complete autonomy. In here, she was master of her own actions and answered to no one. From the time she left the house until four in the evening each day Monday through Friday, she was free. No one criticized her or reminded her of her shortcomings, just pure, beautiful silence. Turning the ignition, she gave a wry smile at the loud squeal coming from somewhere in the engine and waited for the car to warm up a bit. Checking her rearview mirror, she didn't bother risking a glance to her face, already knowing that her insomnia last night aided the dark circles under her eyes.
With her windows down, Nadira turned her face further into the wind as she drove down interstate eighty towards Berkeley. Lost in her thoughts, she let her thumb run back and forth across the textured surface of the stone necklace as she easily maneuvered the car with her free hand. Half an hour later, she pulled into a spot in the student parking lot and stepped out of the car. Heading towards Kroeber Hall, where the bulk of her art history classes were located, she practically had the campus to herself. Pulling open the door to the library, she nodded in acknowledgment to the student attendant on duty. Unlike the main campus library, this library was smaller and only used for the students at Kroeber Hall, housing specialized books in anthropology, art history, archaeology, and art practice. Finding her favorite spot in the back near the windows, Nadira pulled out her seat and opened her bag for her Museum Studies textbook. Opening the book to where she left off last night, her hands paused on the slip of paper she used as a bookmark. One year, that was what was written on the yellow and white note. Just one more year and she would graduate with a degree in art history. One more year and she could study abroad and leave her house to finally live her own life.
As the morning progressed, the sun rose higher in the sky, casting the city in its customary sunny glow. Students began to trickle past her window and in and out of the library until she could hear the usual din of talking out in the halls every time the heavy library doors swung open and closed. Checking her watch, Nadira repacked her bag and exited the library. Students congregated outside of the classrooms, their conversations carefree and typical of young college students: what they did last weekend, things they just bought and shows they were watching, all conversations that were out of her league.
Slipping into the bathroom, Nadira stopped in front of the mirror and pulled out her brush from her bag. What did she do last weekend? She cleaned her grandmother's house and had dinner with her aunts and uncles. What new things had she bought recently? Nothing at all. Staring down at her clothes, she took stock of the simple boot cut jeans and light taupe sweater, all very plain and all very cheap. And recent shows she was binging? Well, that was easy, zero. There was only one TV in her house, and that was downstairs in the living room, sitting against the opposite side of the wall of her parents' bedroom. Watching anything she might be interested in was out of the question. She would no doubt be ridiculed about her choice of show or for waking up her light sleeper or parents. It simply wasn't worth it. Running the brush through her black wavy hair once more, she stuffed it back into her bag and frowned at her tired appearance. Just once she would like to get enough sleep so she didn’t have to look so exhausted. Underweight and always tired, she feared she was starting to look much older than twenty-four. Checking her watch again, she turned and walked to class.
**
Fiddling with the stone necklace, she sat later that morning in her World History class as the other students began to trail in. The class was located in an older building on the campus and was designed much like a regular high-school class with rows of metal desks, each with a mint-green hard plastic tabletop while the seat had a metal basket below for book storage. Picking her usual seat in the back near the long wall of windows, she watched as students made their way in at the front near the teacher's podium. Her fingers paused their rhythmic rubbing across the stone surface when she saw him. Besides her alone time in the morning and her peaceful commute to school, there was only one other consistent source of happiness, and that was getting to gaze upon Jordan Ivers.
Walking in behind some other boys, Jordan stood a head above the rest. Dark brown skin, tall, charming, and unbelievably attractive, Jordan was the guy every girl on campus stopped in her tracks to stare at when he walked by. Walking down the row to his seat, Nadira watched him turn and pause as he responded to another student's question. With his book and notebook clasped in one hand and his backpack casually hanging off just one shoulder, Nadira couldn't stop her eyes from following the outline of the sinewy muscles in his forearm. She was so transfixed in the subtle movements of his flexing muscles she didn't even notice he had moved closer until she heard her name.