The Mortal Kombat Chronicles-We Met

INTRODUCTION:

So I was kidding last time. Sitting in Borders I wasn't sure how to begin. And then it occurred to me that most of you following this blog were present during this whole situation, so you already know. But then I thought, why am I really writing about this? And as with everything about this blog, it's for my own edification. Kinda talking myself through the muck and mire that I've already washed myself clean of, just so I can chart the events which led me so far astray to begin with. I flatter myself to think anyone reads what I have to say and/or that they give a damn. I like to think so, but as I said, it's flattery. So I'm gonna do my best to recount these events as I remember them. Sometimes I may come across as desperate, normal, victimized, selfish, clueless, sad and an assortment of other adjectives. And it's all true. I was every one of those descriptors and more at some point. But it also taught me a lot about myself. This entire transgression I couldn't extricate myself from; my involvement with this man in the end told me more about relationships and how I see men than any other. And so in that, it has value.

WE MET:

Fall 1995. I was a freshman at Spelman College in Atlanta, GA. Not just any freshman, but a Drama major to boot. Having grown up in White Suburban Town, NJ I was compelled to find a school that would support me instead of push against me. I didn't want a big school and I certainly had had enough of white folks and their version of art, history, and truth. I'd grown exceedingly militant during my last two years of high school so naturally, an HBCU was the way to go (that's Historically Black College/University for those that don't know). That of course made my militant parents very proud. Mommy helped form the BSU (black student union) on her campus at Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, MO in the sixties and was so involved in her work that she was shot at by the Klan and harassed by the local police (they would burst into her apartment at various times of day and night; once coming at 3 am, ransacked the place and even stole the ham out of her refrigerator). And Daddy taught at Nigga University...I mean Howard University in the nation's capital. Both had wanted to go to black colleges when they were younger, and interestingly enough, both wanted to go to Howard. But both of their fathers were against it as many blacks were in those days, fearing that if their child graduated from a black college what would they be equipped to do? How would they get along with white folks in the world. So both went elsewhere--Mommy to SMS in Missouri and Daddy to Boston University and then onto Harvard. Yeah, you read that correctly. I'm Harvard Legacy bitches! Not that I took advantage of that, but it's still impressive.

Once I settled on Spelman, I had a very successful college tour and came back completely in love, ready to leave Whitey and NJ behind for darker, warmer things! I didn't meet him right away. At least I don't think I did. I became totally immersed in and afraid of the drama department. The fear was a direct result of the iron fisted leadership of the head of the department; a woman so terrorizing she was only known as Professor. When one heard the echo of her footsteps in the hallways, or caught sight of her dreadlocks wisking around corners, the blood would drain from one's body and everyone was suddenly rendered deaf, dumb, and blind. The faculty trembled and graveled at her feet; which of course is the way she liked it and no other way would suffice. Luckily my advisor, a jolly gay man named Doc, showered me with enough affection that I didn't turn tail and run. To tell the truth, I wouldn't have anyway, cause while it scared me being in that building, it also exhilarated me. I loved to be scared.

My first memories of Mortal Kombat are in the various drama classes we had together in THE DEPARTMENT (as it came to be known amongst us thespians). I'd see him from time to time, give him a cordial greeting of the day; a non committal head nod, and keep it moving. He'd reciprocate in kind and not miss a step. For years, he was a boy in my class. A dude, fairly non-descript, with glasses. And that was it as for as I was concerned. He was quiet mostly. Only speaking when he had something to say. He'd sit back in "the cut" as we used to say, meaning he'd be in the back of the class or off to the side minding his own business. Listening to everything going on mind you, but rarely taking time to interject unless he deemed it important. Like he always knew when the test or quiz was. You could count on him for that kinda shit. And whenever an important assignment was due. So that's how dialogue began between us that I remember. It was usually:

ME: Hey, MK, when's the final project due again?
MK: Tomorrow. You haven't started it yet?
ME: Yeah (I hadn't), just making sure.
MK: Yeah, it's due by five. Better get on that.
ME: Right. Thanks. Holla.

And that's how it started. Nothing special. I didn't suddenly look up at him across the stagecraft class and realize my heart would go on. Nothing lame like that. It was much more innocuous. And, as it turned out, dangerous. For me that is.

We went on that way for bout two years. Very relaxed and casual, neither overtly or even remotely attracted to the other. Classmates. And slowly as you spend time with the same people, working on the same kinda projects, and getting personal with the same people (for such is the nature of college drama students--such is the nature of drama, you share your secrets, your desires, your pains and joys with them. You reveal your naked self with them cause if you can't do it there, you can't do it on stage in front of hundreds of strangers. That's the point), you venture to have conversations of some substance with them. You laugh with them. Sometimes you hate them (and sometimes those feelings stick. I still actively dislike some of these folks today) and sometimes you love them. There's always a lotta lovin' in every college drama department. It's the nature of the beast after all.

So slowly our casual, non committal head nods to each other in passing, turned into actual verbal "hellos" and "hey, wassups". Then that turned into conversations before class started while people were still straggling in. And then the ultimate in trust exercises in drama classes. We began partnering up with each other for class projects and even to do (sigh, gasp) scene work together. Now for those of you who were "real" majors in college, doing scene work is a leap of faith. It means I trust you to spend time with you outside of class, I trust you with my GRADE, I trust that you're an actor on my level and worth my time (basically that you have talent), and lastly, I trust you not to fuck up! I was highly selective with my scene partners, fuck the bullshit. They weren't causing me to get a bad grade or gonna make me look like a fool in front of Professor. Hells naw shawty!

And here's where things begin to change a bit. By junior year, we'd become really cool. Talking and whatnot but still just confined to class time. But I'd gotten a pretty good sense that he was a nice guy, he was funny, and I could count on him for assignment info. But still just a bookish looking dude in my class. Then first semester senior year, he gets cast in West Side Story. I'd never seen the play or the movie but I knew it was a musical and knew the basic storyline. It was an interesting undertaking cause all of the male lead's (Tony) songs were gonna be rearranged into a jazzy sound, while Maria's songs were still gonna be operatic and classical. If you're thinking this is odd, you would be correct. It didn't sound good at all cause it blended horribly. But I remember going up to MK and being surprised that he could sing, to which he replied that he doesn't sing. Color me confused. Oh yeah, he was gonna be playing Riff, who I knew to be the leader of one of the gangs, Jets, Sharks, I don't know. Oh, Jet. I was working costume on that show for my semester credit hours (every major had to work a total of 40 hrs each semester on a show in some technical capacity. I'm not mathematically inclined enough to operate the lighting or sound board, and I wasn't gonna build any sets, so costumes it was) and would harass him every now and then affirming that "when you're a jet/you're a jet all the way/from your first cigarette/till your last dying day..." I thought it was funny. I never saw the rehearsals though cause I was too busy sewing, buying, and drinking with the costume supervisor. Side bar, she truly indulged my drinking habit cause she had a serious one of her own. Yay college!!! But one day I had to sit through a section of rehearsal and there was MK talking with the other actors waiting to begin. I was kinda caught off guard by his appearance cause he was wearing a white wife beater and white basketball tear away sweats. I wasn't used to seeing him in anything other than immaculate jeans, a button down shirt with maybe a sweater vest and his well worn medium brown/tan leather coat. And glasses. He was devoid of all these things that day, and looked suddenly so earthy and urban. He looked like a B-boy from around the way. I liked that. Never knew he had it in him. But, we exchanged a few jokes and I went about my business.

Opening night came and I had to go cause I worked crew on the show. Wasn't looking forward to it cause I figured this would be my least favorite musical. I actually enjoyed it more than the movie, but as stated above, the musical arrangement of the show was very distracting and horrendous. And it was comical in places I'm sure it wasn't meant to be. Like someone called a cue too early and all of a sudden in the middle of a scene, the clothesline swings out. And another time an actor went to exit through an onstage door, and it was stuck. He had to practically break it down. All this while he threatened the other characters with a gun (he was supposed to make a dramatic exit, gun in hand. Instead it turned into a Milton Burl sketch). But it was the opening that stuck with me. Not because it was the best scene of the play or because it was perfectly acted or anything. It was because I saw Riff as portrayed by MK on that stage. And Riff was so sexy. He had swagger and this unbridled masculinity that I'd never noticed in Mortal Kombat before. He was street, he was cunning. He was unapologetic about everything; and in short, he was self assured. Did I say sexy? My eyes were glued to him every time he stepped on the stage. I wanted to see what he was gonna do and hear what he was gonna say next. He literally glided across the floor, his movements were that effortless. No one was more surprised than me. Imagine my surprise. I'm thinking I'm gonna watch bookish MK do a little dance, maybe sing a little song or two and instead I get Tupac. Not exactly Tupac but he's a good reference of the day--an educated thug. I sat back in my seat and said, "Oh shit. This nigga is hot." And that was the alarm that sounded my end. That was the beginning.

Till next time, lovers!