Something She Can Feel Read Online Free PDF Page B

lady resolutions came quick—letting go of her tumultuous relationship with Clyde and finally dating other men, going back to school to get her master’s, and getting a new car—she’d been driving the same red Eclipse since college. My resolutions took a little longer. I just didn’t know what I wanted. But finally, I decided that I wanted to start to travel—to see the world beyond the South, to start writing songs again, and to lose all of the extra weight I was carrying around.
    â€œI’m just walking around the track outside for an hour.” I added, “You should come, too.”
    â€œBut it’s Friday!”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd ... it’s your birthday weekend. You’ll be thirty-three on Sunday.” She sat down in the chair next to my desk and whimpered helplessly. “We need to start celebrating now.”
    â€œCelebrating what? It’s just another year.”
    â€œYou’re one year growner!”
    â€œGrowner?”
    â€œMore grown ... whatever.” She flipped her hand at me.
    â€œOkay, English teacher.”
    â€œJust ... why don’t you seem excited? Not even a little bit?”
    â€œI’m excited,” I said, hearing the lack of enthusiasm in my voice.
    â€œThen come eat with me, pleeeeassee,” she begged.
    â€œBut I have to walk today. I promised myself. I have to do something with these bad boys by summer.” I pointed to the round hips that seemed to be stretching my size eighteen slacks into the next cut. “I’m not trying to be the Southern cliché of a black woman—in the church, singing ... and big.”
    â€œPlease, J. You know the brothers love those country curves.”
    â€œNot Evan.”
    â€œWell, the Mr. Evan Deeee-Long is a different breed. Everybody has to be picture perfect around him—since he wants to be the first black president of the universe—”
    â€œWell, Obama’s already on the way!” I said and we both laughed.
    â€œExactly. But I say, bump perfection ... when there’s a tasty sandwich shop waiting to feed us. Come on, girl!” She grinned and waved her hands rhythmically in front of my face to entice me.
    â€œThat’s easy for you to say; you’re a size 6,” I said, laughing as I slid off my shoes and began putting on the sneakers. One of the smartest, boldest people I’d ever known, Billie was the kind of pretty girl other pretty girls hated to walk into a party with. For her, beauty was something she didn’t have to work at. Billie’s chestnut skin, doe eyes, and slender cheeks made her an eyeful even when she was asleep—and I lived with her for four years in college at Alabama, so I knew.
    â€œSize doesn’t matter when no one’s there to look at it,” she said, her voice sinking. “Sometimes, I feel like I could be a size 2 or 202 and that fool still wouldn’t notice.”
    In high school, Billie was voted “Best Looking,” and we expected some Prince Charming from New York or Atlanta to come swooping down to see her beauty and take her far away from Tuscaloosa. But she had other plans. The love of her heart, Clyde Pierce, wasn’t from New York or Atlanta and he’d sworn long ago that he wasn’t ever leaving his father’s land. He graduated from Stillman College the year before we left the University of Alabama and took a job teaching gym and coaching the varsity football team at Black Warrior. No one was surprised when Billie signed up for a teaching job the following year—even though she was a finance major.
    â€œOh, Billie, don’t bring up Clyde. I thought you were finally moving on ... remember?” I said.
    â€œI know, but it’s hard to have his shit just all up in my face like this, you know?” She leaned her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
    As coach of the football team, Clyde had been enjoying