Page 9 of Thirst

“All I feel is annoyed,” I say before another sip of wine to strengthen my growing buzz. “I wish I had it like you, but my momma was a loan officer and my daddy was a car mechanic.”

“I can't even lie,” Nae says. “In this economy, I feel so grateful that my dad is a partner at Johnson & Jackson. I don't know what I would be doing if I didn't have this served up for me. Most Black folks don't have anything set up for them coming out of high school, so I know I'm blessed. It’s about time we have some Black nepotism. I wish I could help you though. I really do. But don't give up hope. You won't be stripping forever. Your time is coming.”

I shake my head as I take another sip and stare at the canvas, as white as a snow-covered mountain.

“You ever just feel like you're doing too much surviving and not enough living?” I ask rhetorically. “All I think about is when the next check is coming, how much it’s gonna be, and what bills I’ll be able to pay with it. I barely have time for myself. Your girl needs some adventure. Some excitement.”

“Some dick,” Nae adds.

We both burst into laughter before clinking our wine glasses together in a toast.

“I heard that,” I reply.

“Well, that makes two of us,” Nae says. “I've been so focused on law school and busy with Dad at the firm, I don't even have time to date. Plus, these men I see on Tinder look like they're still living with their mommas.”

“Well I'm too broke to link up, even with the momma’s boys,” I say, laughing again. Once I pull myself together, I get serious. “But for real though, something has got to change. This feels like a slow death. I need sex, adventure, and money. Hell, I wouldn't even mind a little bit of danger. Anything just to feel alive.”

“I hear you. Remember when we were in high school, and that quiet kid hit on you after years of staring from the back of the class? The one from science class with the thick glasses?”

“Samson,” I blurt out, followed by a laugh and a head shake. “How could I possibly forget?”

Janae covers her mouth and laughs with me. “Yeah, that’s the one. That fool convinced you that he was a drug dealer, and for whatever reason, you ran with it. You thought your life was about to become an episode of Snowfall, with a rich, drug dealing boyfriend who looked nothing like Damson Idris.”

I laugh, but I know how ridiculous this story is. “Yes, I did. See, I've been aching for danger since way back.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Nae says, still laughing to herself. “You risked it all, only to find out that Samson’s parents were leaders of some kind of cult in Nigeria. Girl, they almost kidnapped you.”

“Almost hit me with the Jim Jones.”

“Ooh, drinking the Flavor-Aid, bitch.”

We both laugh until we have tears streaming, nearly spilling our wine on my couch, and Nae is the only person who could get a pass for that.

When I manage to breathe again, I sit up straight and shake my head. “Well, it’s ridiculous, but it just proves my point. I've been waiting on a change forever. The universe owes me that. I need it to pay up.”

Janae raises her glass again. “I’ll drink to that.”

I bring my nearly-empty wine glass to hers. “To sex, adventure, money, and danger.”

“Hell yeah,” Nae says.

We clink our glasses and knock back the rest of the drinks, while the canvas stares back at me, untouched.

My head is throbbing. It aches every time I move, and the sun I usually love shining through my window so much is making me feel like I'm staring at an atomic bomb going off. My usually peaceful awakening is immediately dipped in pain and annoyance, and I have to drag myself out of bed to have coffee in the late afternoon. While it brews, I do my makeup and choose my outfits for the night—one to walk the floor, and two for the main stage. By the time I'm dressed, the coffee is done and I'm ready for a hit of caffeine that I hope will lessen my headache. It helps a little, and after eating a homemade breakfast bowl and drinking some water, I start to feel less like a zombie moving around the apartment.

Before long, it’s time to head out the door. I grab my outfits and car keys, and do my best to ignore the dead stare of the blank canvas as I walk out of the kitchen and through the living room. I pull the door open, and just as I'm stepping out, I see something on the outside of my door that shouldn't be there. It’s a white piece of paper, typed out and signed at the bottom. My headache was nearly gone, but when I snatch the paper off the door and start reading, it quickly comes back for a second round of torment.

“What the hell?” I whisper to myself as I read the notice about rent in the entire building being raised by the landlord. Three hundred dollars more a month, for absolutely no upgrades to the apartments whatsoever. Just pure, unadulterated greed. The worst things to ever happen to this country are racism and capitalism, and as a Black woman living in the city, I'm being kicked in the teeth by both on far too regular a basis.

There's no point in planning to say anything to the landlord. He wouldn't change his mind, and I could end up homeless. All I can do is crumple up the paper to make myself feel better, and angrily walk to the parking garage. Before I drive away, I send a text to Janae.

Nae! Did you see that rent notice?

Before I can put the car in gear, she responds.

Yes! WTF! Can you believe that? I had to wait three days for maintenance to fix my heat in the winter, now I'm being charged MORE?! I need to pass the bar so I can get the hell outta there

I wish I had an exam to pass to upgrade my life. I gotta figure something out, because this is ridiculous. I'm headed to work. I’ll call you later