Page 41 of Beautiful Beginning

I looked down at her and smiled. “My post-graduation aspirations?” I informed her, “If your question is if I did this for personal gain, my answer is no. I did this because a professor suggested I use my voice. Told me that the articles I penned weren’t enough action.”

“Enough action,” she repeated. “And now, with the approved budget, and new dorm proposal, do you see this as a win?”

“I see any progress the university is making a win for all students.” I kept my answer minimal. Because the budget, the new dorm proposal weren’t my ideas. I had other goals for the board to focus on, and those were dismissed.

There was a small crowd forming around us as she continued. “With months left until campus life is over for you. If you could work for any political campaign, which would it be?”

That was an easy question. Not something accomplishable soon but ultimately, one day, I’d love for it to happen. “A presidential campaign.”

She widened her eyes. “Running as president?”

I clarified, “I’d prefer to be behind the scenes.” Over the reporter’s shoulder I caught a glimpse of Journey’s hair. The slant in her eyes when she looked toward us and noticed me too. Although the journalist was talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off Journey.

She cleared her throat, “And how about your personal life Mr. Brown. Or your love life? Is there a future first lady on this campus?”

I didn’t appreciate the segue. If it weren’t for the crowd, the cameras rolling I would have dismissed myself from the interview. Ended it before it got too deep into life outside of the position. “I’ve never wanted all this attention. Hence, why I’d help someone campaign but wouldn’t want to be on a ballot beyond this. I like to keep my personal life lowkey. Anyone I’m ever in a relationship with deserves the same respect.”

“Well, WGHM, you heard it here first. Mr. Brown will not be running for president, and anyone interested in if he’s single, well, we’ll never know.” She lowered the mic and stared at the cameraman. When the camera lowered she said, “Maybe this interview will get you in front of the people you need.” Journey never neared us, but the reporter noticed her. “But if this is the life you are choosing, you might have to think twice about your privacy. Your eyes are telling.”

I wiped a hand across my beard. “I’ll do what’s necessary.” I reached my hand out to shake hers. “Thanks for the interview, I hope you have what you need.”

“Indeed, we do.” She nodded toward the cameraman. “Before you graduate we may have to do a follow-up. I, for one, would love to hear where you are headed next. I’ve heard positive things about you in the short time you’ve been SGA president.”

“A follow-up?” I considered what I’d be telling her. Where I’d end up after graduation. What city or town I’d be moving to. “I’m sure you’ll be in touch.”

The crowd dissipated, but Journey was still feet away from where I stood. I took long strides to get to her. But when I stood in front of her, I didn’t know whether to embrace her, pull her into my chest, kiss her lips, or stand back and wait. I put my hands back in my pockets and locked eyes with her. “How are you?” For someone who drunk dialed me the night before, she looked to recover well.

“This morning was a reminder that I shouldn’t drink too much.” Her face twisted. “Recovery time lessens the older we get.”

“I’ve heard.” Was she too drunk to know we spoke? To realize she called me? “Do you remember much about the night or is it all a blur?”

“Like calling you? I remember that.” She winced. “Sorry to call you like that.”

I shrugged my shoulder. “Days after not talking, I was happy to hear your voice. But not as excited for you to tell me you were dancing up on dudes.”

“I saidthat?” Maybe she only remembered parts of the short conversation.

I nodded. “You did. You followed it up with wanting to end the night with me.”

“And you said you couldn’t.” Her face fell, and she looked down to the ground. “Over there,” she looked toward the empty space that held a crowd, cameraman, and reporter minutes earlier, “you said something about a relationship, but—”

“I don’t want my business in the streets. It’s not for public consumption.”

“Not even the fact that you are in a relationship?” Her eyes met mine and I saw pain on the other side.

I shook my head. The beginning of us was easy. Our conversations came without pressure. We hardly had anything to argue about while getting to know each other. There wasn’t enough commitment to force anything more or be mad at anything less. It was effortless. And now, I had to navigate every other sentence to ensure a landmine didn’t await its departure from my mouth.Tick, tick.“Journey, it’s not like that. A confirmation is as much as giving them permission to dig into my personal life.”Boom.

“Would it be so bad?”

“For the city to know you exist. That you are someone always on my mind. Someone I’ve been intimate with. Someone I asked to be my girl,officially?” I shook my head. “No. Because it’s not our relationship I’m worried about hiding. I’ve seen the politics and how they can pick a person apart. I’ve seen families put on the chopping block because of a comment they made. From a view they have that differs from the public, or the party. You aren’t the one in the position, you shouldn’t have to answer to anything. Long-term, would I prefer that not to be an issue I have to contend with? Yes. It’s the basis of everything I want to change in politics—remove what doesn’t matter.”

“But me and you, are we good?” Her words cut through what didn’t matter.

ChapterNineteen

Journey

“Us?” The look on his face—somber, agitated, disinterested.

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