I lift my head from Nia’s shoulder. “Thank you for essentially calling me a gold-digger, Shu.”
She frowns. “I don’t know why you’re offended. Gold-diggers are our nation’s hardest workers; do you know how much effort goes into pretending to give a shit about some guy for his money? A lot. Hoes are Britain’s unsung heroes.”
“Let’s not further that thread. How are you feeling?” Nia asks me. “All this Ben stuff isn’t great timing.”
“I didn’t love him,” I admit, “not the way I was supposed to and I know that, but I loved feeling loved and … wanted. I just don’t understand why this happened.”
“This isn’t your fault, Mads,” Shu says, looking closer at her phone. “I think I found her. This bitch?” She turns her phone to me and on it is a picture of Sophie with pouted lips in another figure-hugging dress. In the caption she thanks “babe” for the sparkling bracelet encircling her wrist. The picture was posted two days ago.
“Yes, that’s her.” I stare at the photo and try to pick faults, but it doesn’t matter if I find any. He still chose her. Maybe if you’d worn tighter dresses … “How did you find her?”
“She’s tagged on his Instagram,” Shu says, widening the image. “Oh, look at that. Big lips and wide hips.”
Nia tuts. “Typical.”
I look between the two of them. “What am I missing?”
Nia continues to stroke my hair. “Ben may be a certain type of man,” she says gently.
“He likes your features, just not on you,” Shu finishes bluntly. “Now that I look at him closely, he does give off that racist vibe.”
I jerk back. “Racist? That’s a bit strong. Ben’s not … He doesn’t hate me.”
“Maddie.” Nia looks at me with pity. “A white person can date a Black person and still be racist.”
“Because there’s levels to that shit. Like a lasagna.” I frown but Shu says, “Stay with me. So, on the top, that cheesy layer, that’s what you can see clearly. Hate speech, mad looks, and violence. Obvious stuff you can’t ignore. But all them layers underneath, the ones that are harder to see, microaggression and unconscious bias? Giving your white girlfriend jewelry, boat rides, and meet-and-greets with the family, but your Black girlfriend pasta in your house? Racism, hun.”
I’m still not entirely convinced—maybe Ben is a bad person to every woman—but then Nia says, “I know it might seem too small an action to fit under such a big word, but the simple idea that the white girl he’s seeing as the one to invest in suggests your level of worth to be less than hers, and it isn’t. You are worth everything she is, do you hear me? You are not the problem.”
I look at her and quietly ask, “I’m not?”
“You’re not,” she says resolutely. “Maddie, what you’ll come to learn is that not everyone is capable of dating a Black woman. Not that—”
Shu coughs.
“Or an Asian woman,” Nia adds, and Shu nods. “Not that men who do are somehow superior, but there’s a level of learning and understanding that goes into it. You don’t just date her but her history too. Too much is going on and revealing itself for you to think love will conquer all. Does he educate himself, follow the news, raise his voice in uncomfortable conversations? Does he ever question the system that works very well for him but does the opposite for you? He doesn’t have to do it with a megaphone, but he does have to do it. You don’t want a boyfriend who isn’t racist, Maddie. You need a boyfriend who is actively anti-racist.
“Ben probably isn’t even aware he’s projecting these microaggressions,” Nia continues. “Hey, I’m sleeping with a Black girl and like it, I can’t be racist! In his head, he’s chosen Sophie because he’s known her longer or maybe they work in similar fields, whatever, but really, a man like that clearly exists in a certain environment and maybe telling his parents, or ‘explaining’ you to his friends, is just too much hassle.”
Too much hassle. Even the idea that this could be true makes my heart break. Why didn’t I get dinners out or a boat ride? Why didn’t he introduce me to anyone? Was I ever really his plus-one or was it always going to be Sophie? I want to make excuses. Maybe she’s a big Marvel fan, maybe she loves eating pasta and watching wildlife documentaries; I only met her once so maybe ninety-nine percent of the time she’s really, really nice. But then I’m also all of those things and these excuses don’t explain the blatant preferential treatment.
I think about the macarons and the thigh pinching and the eye contact and my submissiveness. I can’t picture Sophie in the same situation. Again, I don’t know her, but can assume she’d have said something like “Macarons at eight A.M.? Fuck off, Ben.”
He wouldn’t have even made the attempt, but he knew he could with me.
I realize I only want to make excuses because I really tried with Ben and not much hurts worse than being deemed not worth the effort after.
“I hated sex with him,” I confess, “but I still did it.”
Nia freezes and Shu says, “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Maddie,” Nia says. “Did he make you?”
“No!” I move away. “I didn’t really want to, but I didn’t say no either. It was more that I liked that he wanted to. I thought it meant something, that … that he loved me. Maybe.”
“Using you ‘for now’ isn’t love, Maddie,” Nia says gently. “Enduring sex isn’t what being loved feels like either.”
I feel silly for asking, but here goes: “What does love feel like?”
“Sunshine and rainbows?” Nia offers.
“She’s not seven,” Shu says. “It’s not always about what it feels like, Mads, because sometimes it feels pointless. It’s about what love is. Which is trust, commitment, empathy, and respect. It means really giving a shit about the other person.”
Nia nods in agreement.
“How do you both know all of this?”
Nia and Shu look at each other, then simultaneously answer, “Practice.”
“I wish I’d known this before I met Ben.”
“Some things you’re not meant to be saved from,” Nia says. “Some things have to be lessons.”
“And you don’t share much,” Shu says, “about anything. You kinda keep things to yourself. But now that’s going to change, so let’s talk next steps. I think you should buy the book The Alchemist.”
“I’ve already read—”
“It’s not for you to read,” Shu says. “We’re going to use it to set Ben’s house on fire.” She pauses for effect. “Irony.”
“I think you mispronounced ‘arson-ry,’” I tell her. “Which happens to be a crime.”
“Only if you get caught.” She turns back to me. “You still got his address, right?”
Before I answer, the doorbell rings and when Shu goes to answer it, Nia holds out a forkful of spinach.