“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said, gently taking me into his arms. He lifted me off the floor and carried me back to my room.“What if I...throw up on you?”“There’s this great invention I have to tell you about, Celie,” he said, pressing his lips to my temple. “It’s called a washing machine.”I punched him in the chest.“Don’t call me that,” I grumbled.“It’s been over a year now and I still don’t have the right to give you a nickname?”“I don’t like nicknames.”“And I don’t like Mondays, yet. ”“You sure as shit can. Let’s go get you a drink. C’mon, the cover is however much you want to donate.”I didn’t have any money, but I told him I’d bring him some to class on Monday. He seemed okay with that. The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I remember being a little uncomfortable at first because I stood out like a sore thumb. I was a little older than everyone and I was like a white beacon in a house full of black people. I started out with liquor and didn’t look back. My inhibitions. More

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