So Many Agoes

Chapter 21

August 1970

    The way my hand shook when I unlocked the door to our first apartment is something I'll never forget. Emilienne stood next to me, and took the door handle to turn it. She stepped into our new home with an authority that said "I'm ready for what you're going to throw at me."

     It wasn't anything special; a studio apartment with a small kitchen, a bathroom and a nook for a bed. I had brought my old mattress and bed frame from home with me. Besides that, and a couple chairs, we had no other furniture. Emilienne, put the small box she had argued to carry on the floor. She came back and held the door open while I dragged in the mattress and dropped it in its spot. Dust billowed up from the floor on impact, making both of us cough. It would be home.

     We spent the rest of the week setting up the apartment to our liking. For the first time since beginning college, we were both able to truly enjoy each other's company. It was like both of us were able to take a deep breath in, and let out a long, relaxing sigh that made both of us excitedly lightheaded.

     Despite the uncertain future of being parents while in school, we felt like we were in high school again for the first time in a long time. The prospect of healing from all that we had been through motivated us to push forward, and got us excited for the near future- a new chapter in our lives and the opportunity to move past the pain and hardships we had suffered.

     We spent the remainder of the summer exploring the city and getting used to living with each other. I found a part time job to cover the remaining rent and utilities. We excitedly bought things to make the apartment feel like home. Emilienne brought her record player and happily set it up, and while we still didn't have furniture, she was ecstatic to have a dance floor. Friends from Milcreek sent us house warming gifts: a beautiful rug, a coffee maker, towels and toiletries and such.

     Living with Emilienne was interesting; I learned many new things about her that I never knew before. I learned how to detangle her hair properly and to cornrow- skills I would surely need once our child was born.

     I also began to fully understand why referring to her hair as "wild" had been such a problem for her at the beginning of her relationship. Her hair was and is an extension of herself and to make it look the way it does takes hours of work and dedication, many people of color refer to the care of their hair as a spiritual journey.

     Our bathroom was quickly taken over by her wide array of products to keep her skin and hair healthy and beautiful. Every time she would step out of the bathroom post shower, a steamy cloud of luscious cocoa butter, coconut oil and castor oil would billow out from behind her. It was my first time seeing her hair wet, and subsequently learning about shrinkage.

     I loved pulling her special brush through her wet curls and watching them bounce back up into their familiar coils, it quickly became an act of love between us. She'd sit in front of me on our bed with different oils and a spray bottle. I'd run the brush through her curls and massage the oil into her scalp, which was quite the relaxing massage for her at the end of her long school and work days. When we were done, she'd wrap her hair in silk to keep her hair safe through the night.

     Afterwards, we'd often unwind for the night, with her resting on my chest or myself on her stomach while we listened to our favorite vinyls. Despite the learning curve it took to get used to living with one another, we found a new safe place within one another. Coming home to something we built together was unlike anything we had ever experienced; and having the safety and company of each other was beyond tranquil.

     It wasn't perfect, when school began our schedules often clashed with one another, making getting ready difficult and often putting us in each other's way. Mornings turned into a game of twister, the two of us learning how to mold around each other while still half asleep. Coffee became one of our fastest mediators between our occasional morning "boxing" matches.

     Nevertheless, our communication was at an all time high, both of us doing exceptionally well at asking what we needed from one another. Acts of service was our love language. I loved giving her a good foot massage or bathing her at the end of the long day, and Emilienne found a lot of pleasure in cooking her favorite Haitian dishes for me as it was an entirely new experience for me and my taste buds.

     With Emilienne and I routinely in each other's presence, I quickly learned how much Creole she uses at home. I began studying it, and became familiar with the things she would often say while doing everyday mundane tasks. It became a form of comfort for me, walking in the front door with our Friday night pizza and hearing her muttering to herself while changing into her pajamas.

     Something else I learned about Emilienne: despite her impeccable sense of style, she would much rather wear t shirts and pajama shorts. As soon as she walked through the door at the end of her long days in her intern office, the professional clothes would come off and were replaced with comfy clothing for studying and cuddling.

     Emilienne learned a few things about me as well: that I can and enjoy cooking (especially for her), that when bored, I enjoy listening to the radio and staring at the ceiling until I fall asleep, and that my showers typically took about twenty minutes. Somehow, living with Emilienne made me love her even more than I already did.

It was all new, and beautiful and exciting, challenging and very, very fun.