Two Years Earlier

Brittany got out of the cab and paid the driver for her trip from the airport to her new college home. As the driver removed her bags from the trunk, Brittany glanced at her paper detailing the address and then at the house in front of her. Puzzled by its appearance, her British accent took hold as she blurted out, "Oh bloody hell! You've got to be kidding me. This is absurd."

Although deeply disappointed with her surroundings, Brittany couldn't wait to see Jax. They had become lifelong friends since their junior year in high school. Brittany was the first and only exchange student that Jax's parents hosted. Although originally from Africa, most of Brittany's education occurred in London, England. Recent events prompted her parents insistence that she return to America to finish her college degree.

Brittany again studied her environment as she stepped onto the sidewalk from the street. She was almost knocked down by children riding their bikes, laughing, and yelling as they blew right by her. Although, perturbed by their rudeness, her attention quickly diverted to the sounds of loud rap music playing from a car burning rubber and speeding down the street. Brittany then questioned, "My God, where am I?"

With a slight smile of thanks to the driver, she picked up her bags and walked toward the house. The reddish brick row house was three stories high, with dark brown awnings covering some of the windows. From her vantage point, at least one window on each floor had an air-conditioning unit hanging from it. Throwing her head back in disgust, she said, "No central air? Oh dear God, how am I supposed to live here?" Remembering her plush and roomy high rise flat in London, complete with an entertaining lobby for guests, maid service, and a doorman, she was already beginning to feel like she was being reduced to live like a peasant instead of the daughter of a diplomat.

Brittany stared at the five steps to the house and spotted the chipped paint that coated each step—an image that reminded her of her own broken heart. She thought about her parents, and then closed her eyes, attempting to control her anger toward them. Moving from London to D.C. was one thing, but if her parents thought that moving her away from Charles was going to stop their relationship, then they were sadly mistaken. She would never leave him; he was her soul mate.

With bags in hand, she moaned and then leaned on the black iron railing. Gazing at the green indoor/outdoor carpet covering the porch, she longed for the baby she lost, but strove to put it out of her mind. She took a deep breath, looked up, and shook her head, sighing at the dilapidated house as Ike, an off-balanced drunk, stumbled behind her.

Through his booze-slurred speech, he tapped Brittany on the shoulder and said, "Hhhhheeeyy, I need to catch a bus to see my sick momma, can ..." As he spoke, he struggled to keep his balance, rocking from side to side, "... ouuuu spare some change?"

Brittany rolled her eyes and turned to him, amazed that he was bold enough to approach and talk to her. No drunks in London had ever been so brazen. Smelling the stench of cheap liquor and musty body odor, she said in a very sharp tone, "I have no such thing. You, dear friend should get a job!"

She moved forward, but he stepped in front of her, almost falling on her. She stepped back to avoid physical contact with him.

His head swayed with his body half slumped over. He gave her a strange look and said, while pointing his dirt-laden finger at her, "You ain't from around here. Where you from?"

"If you must know, I am from South Africa."

"Oh ... You here to go to school?" He stood upright, putting his hands on his hips. "You college girls, you all the same. You think you betta' than us. You think I ain't ever had a job."

Quick to spout off, Brittany said, "I did not say that you have never had a job. I merely said get a job, and quit begging people for money." She shrugged her shoulder and turned her nose up at him. "It is most embarrassing."

"Embarrassin'?" he asked with his eyes down and mouth wide open. He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "Let me tell you what's embarrassin'. Workin' and tryin' to take care of yo yo yo family and never makin' ends meet."

He staggered as he talked and grabbed Brittany's bag for balance. She jerked it away from him, almost causing him to fall forward. He held onto the black railing to steady himself while he finished his speech. He stepped closer to Brittany, attempting to make eye contact. She waved away the stench with her hands and backed up again. Brittany looked at him and then glanced at the front door of the row house. She wondered, What kind of a con is this fool trying to play on me? Pointing his crooked finger behind him, he said, "Givin' up, 'cause you can't find no job that pay worth nothing. Lookin' at your eighty year old mother who can't get her diabetes pills and watchin' her foot hav' to get cut off, cause I can't get no help fo' her. Now that's embarrassin'." With confidence, he managed to stand tall and hold his head high.

Brittany heard Ike's plight, took another deep breath, and with a somber attitude, she said, "I am sorry for your trouble." She put her bags down, reached in her purse, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to him.

"I hope this can help you catch your bus." Brittany rolled her eyes, not just at Ike but also at the despair and laziness of many Americans.

Ike stared at the money and said, "Oh yes ... this sure will, thank you, thank you so much." He smiled as he walked back down the walkway.

She picked up her bags and rushed up the stairs, once again eyeing the house. She shook her head in disbelief that she would make it her home for the next three years. Before ringing the doorbell, she paused in front of the weather worn door with its rustic doorknob and sighed.

Jackie opened the door and said, "Hi, Brit. How was your trip?"

As she crossed the threshold, Brittany peered back at the drunk, wanting to forget the exchange. She set her bags down and said, "It was a bit bumpy, but other than that, I am here."

They hugged each other, and of course, Brittany gave Jackie the double kiss, one on each side of her face.

"Here, let me help you with your bags. I see you met Ike," Jackie said as she moved Brittany's bags from the foyer and placed them by the stairs.

"Thanks. You ... know him?" Brittany said with a squeamish smirk.

"Yes, everyone in the neighborhood knows Ike. He's good people."

With a half-hearted laugh and a grim look, Brittany said, "Jax, you can't be serious." Even though Brittany heard Ike's story, she still thought he could be doing more with his life than panhandling.

Jackie ignored her. "So, how are your parents doing?"

"Oh, you know the usual; Dad's at home doing his diplomat thing and Mummy, of course, busies herself with the boutique in London, or planning the next dinner party. That is, when she is not in my business."

Brittany and Jackie had one thing in common—their parents. Their fathers were always gone, and their mothers were usually busy entertaining friends and watching their daughters' every move.

"Well, let me show you around the place. This is the den and dining room. Feel free to hang out here with your friends. As long as you are not disturbing the rest of us, we don't care."

Brittany studied the lounge with a scowl on her face...