Written by Patrice Wilson

Hazelnut skin. Copper brown eyes. J. R. Jackson, Second row, Professor Jones’s class. Professor Jones, Black and proud with long maple brown Locs that come down to her elbow; accented with now Auburn ends with which once were red. Professor Jones teaches Black feminist theory 101. I am absolutely in awe of how she carries herself with both confidence and conviction that she belongs. Never had I seen a Black woman so sure of herself; so unapologetic. 

A majority of my life, I have felt misunderstood. I’ve allowed the expectations of others to cage me in. I know that I should find a husband, have children and live happily ever after; but I’m not sure that is my purpose. I see Professor Jones and I know that more is possible. 

I always sit in earshot of J.R. So eloquent but raw, always having something profound to add to discussion and so damn fine! I mean handsome and sexy, kind and caring, wearing Timberland boots, nice fitting jeans and a BLM hoodie. “Hey, Eve! Did you get the book for  class next week?” Oh my gosh, is J.R. talking to me? “Eve, you good?”

 “I’m good, hey how are you?'' I respond after an awkward ten second pause. After eight weeks of the semester, J.R.’s Handsome, fine, eloquent ass, utters my name.

 “Yeah” J.R. Chuckles. “I’m good. I was asking if you got the book for next week's class.” 

My voice cracks, I clear my throat, “yeah, I got it. I was going to start reading this weekend.”

 “Okay cool. Do you think maybe we could work together? I ordered my book two  weeks ago and it still ain’t here yet.”

 “Yeah, that would be cool, here’s my number.”

Bzzzz.. Bzzz..Bzzz.. I hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand, I look at the screen  Mom.  I answered begrudgingly. “Hi, mom.”

 “Hey Eve baby, I was thinking about you so I wanted to give you a call, I know it’s late. You doing okay?”

 “Yeah I’m okay, how are you, mom?“ She then proceeds to tell me how all my siblings are doing, how she’s tired of her job and her feet hurt. How it didn’t work out with the guy she was dating and she is single again and then she asks me the dreaded question that ends all of our conversations.

 “You found you a future husband yet?” 

“No, mom.” I responded, annoyed. 

“Well, you’ll find somebody, baby. God has someone just for you. I love you, Eve baby.”

“I love you, Ma. Goodnight.”

PING! A text message from an unknown number reads, I was wondering if we could get together sometime this weekend to go over the book?-J.R. Wow, I was not expecting J.R. to message me. I text back hurriedly to make sure too much time hasn’t passed by. Sure, how's  tomorrow? Say around 7 PM after I finish up at work? Thirty seconds pass by, PING!.  Yeah that’s perfect, let’s meet at the coffee shop off of Fifth Street. I text back;  Alright! I’ll see you then! I then text a smiley face and then delete it. I don’t want to seem too eager; though I am so excited. 

E-V-E, Eve. For as long as I can remember I’ve always known I got my name from the mother of civilization according to the Bible. According to my mom, because I was the first born, it would someday be up to me to  take the torch and be the matriarch of our family. Each generation of my family was born from a Black woman, raised by a Black woman, and loved by a Black woman. So, it’s only fitting that I am named after the mother of humankind. So, I will get married, bear children, do my wifely duties and motherly duties ushering future generations in and then die; leaving a long and strong legacy for my children and their children and so forth. From the countless Sundays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays at church, I learned a different story about Eve. I learned that Eve was the fall of man. She gave into the tempter and convinced Adam to take a bite of the forbidden fruit and they realized that they were naked. What the pastor didn’t say is how strong and powerful  Eve truly was. Eve was a woman who first thought for herself and made a decision on her own volition. Then, having such a wonderful relationship with her mate, she convinced him too. If I were to teach that sermon, it would be entitled, The Power of the Woman. Eve’s choice in conjunction with her partner’s choice resulted in the fall of innocence, ignorance, and bliss; and simultaneously the rise of truth, long suffering and death. I am Eve before taking a bite of the fruit. 

“Hey, Eve! You look nice!“

 “Thanks J.R. You know your swag is on point as usual.” I responded, awkwardly.

 “Thank you” J.R. blushed. 

We ordered and sat down. Looking into those copper brown eyes, I was enchanted. I felt rushes of  warmth in areas of my body that I for so long, wasn’t even sure if they worked. I didn’t feel anything like this with my last boyfriend, or the one before that, or the one before that. I mean, from just the sound of J.R.’s voice, my mind wandered off to places that I learned were supposed to be saved for marriage. Don’t get me wrong, my name is Eve; not Mary. I mean yeah, my exes and I messed around, but we never went all the way. I liked them but never loved them. 

The coffee grinder whirring in the background and the low chatter of people connecting provided the soundtrack for our conversation. “So, I got to be honest,” started J.R. “My book came in this morning.” Intrigued and making my way back from her captivating gaze, I responded. 

“Okay, so.. what’s this about?”

 J.R. retorted “I mean we can still talk about the book, don’t get me wrong, but I really just want to try to get to know you.”

 I gawked. J.R. Suppressing laughter, smiled and continued.

“In class, I notice we vibe on a lot of topics. It seems whenever Professor Jones poses a question, you and me are always on the same wavelength. Even when people be talking nonsensical white privileged jargon, it’s like we always catch each other's gaze. No matter what side of the room we are on, our eyes always meet.”

 I smiled because I knew immediately what J.R. was saying is true but internally, I was conflicted. I knew for a fact that J.R.  was not the type of guy I could take home to mom. 

J.R. Continued “So, is that cool? Maybe we can see what else we have in common?”

 “Yeah, that’s cool.” I responded trying to be nondescript hoping that I wasn’t melting on the outside as I was on the inside. 

“So, you know, my name is J.R. Right, well J is short for Journey,” I nodded. “ And believe it or not, the R is short for, Rose!” My eyes widened as I leaned in. “Yes, from the day I was born my mom said I’d always be her Rose; delicate, soft, and sweet. So you can imagine her surprise when I told her, I wanted to go by J.R., get a shorter hair cut, and that she didn’t have to buy me any new clothes because I could just wear my older brother‘s hand-me-downs. It took some years for her to truly get it. Like, one time she asked me if I wanted to be a boy,” laughing she continued, “ I was like nah ma, I’m still your Rose just maybe not as sweet and soft as you anticipated.” We simultaneously burst out into laughter. 

That night, we talked and we talked.We talked about identity, politics, and how it felt good to vibe with one another. We talked about stories from our childhoods, those both silly and defining moments. We talked until the sound of people chattering and the whirring of the coffee grinder lulled. We talked as if we were old friends catching up after years of being apart. I had never felt so free.

I laid in bed that night staring at the ceiling reminiscing of how I stared into Journey Rose’s eyes that night. In her eyes, I somehow found a part of myself I’ve been missing.  I told her things that I had never told anyone. I didn’t have to hide from her. I was seen and embraced. I was able to face what I had wrestled with inside for weeks; I like Journey Rose. I do not know if I want a husband and I’m not really sure that I really want kids. But what I am sure of , at this very moment, is that I like Journey. It does not matter to me what is underneath those silhouetting clothes but  matters is that she has gifted me something that I’ve always longed for; the permission to.. be.. me. J.R. Journey Rose. Hazelnut skin with copper brown eyes, eloquent, handsome, kind, hoodie toting, timberland boot wearing, not confined by society’s conventions, Black woman; she is free. She is free like Professor Jones and soon I will be, too. 

Bzzz..Bzzz..Bzzz.. “Hello, hey mom. How are you?”

 “Hey baby, I was just calling to check on you while you were on my mind.”

 “Thanks, mom. I’m good, actually. How are you?” 

The conversation takes it’s normal course up until the dreaded question. “You find you a future husband yet?” I chuckled. “Ohhh, you over there giggling, thank you lord! My baby done found her a man!” 

“Well, mom..” I started to respond before she got too ahead of herself. “I don’t know about a future husband, but I definitely have someone special.” She shrieked with excitement. “Okay, mom I’m going to go back to sleep. You know I start exams in the morning.” 

“Okay! I love you, Eve baby.” 

“ I love you, mom.”

 I laid the phone down and I turned over.

 “You found someone special, huh?” Journey whispered as we readjusted and she wrapped her arms around me; now feeling even warmer and more secure than before.

 “Yeah, I have.” I responded as I took a deep breath, greeted by the smell of cocoa butter and patchouli. I continued, “Just wait until she finds out you are a woman.” 

We burst out into uncontrollable laughter. When we calmed down, Journey responded.

 “I got your back. You are worth it.” She was right, I was worth it. I just didn’t know that hearing those words under the cover of night, would be what I needed to walk into my truth. I took a bite of the forbidden fruit.