Iman

Thankfully, Iman left school after that year. I was relieved because it meant I didn’t have to walk quickly past him when he was talking to others, nor would I have to look him awkwardly in the eye when it was just the two of us in the dorm hall. It was sophomore year and I lived two doors from the end of the stairwell. Iman and his roommate lived one floor up, one room down, but across the hall.
Now here was my predicament: I had spent the past several hours doing the usual things that lonely girls do at night…roaming around campus desperately searching for their friendless male counterpart. I was on a mission to find a mate and I knew that if I just kept walking, just kept seeking, my man of reverie would crawl out of the woodwork and find me.
However, my state of depression not only caused me to feel cheerless and disheartened, but it also led me to believe that if I got real drunk, guys would want me; because guys always dig the fun, drunk, loud girls at the party. So I kept walking and I kept drinking and of course, I grew more and more despondent, and realized that alcohol wasn’t going to be strong enough this night; I needed some bona-fide herbal healing to get my mind off of my miserable state of being. I just needed a couple hits.
Iman was an outlet of livelihood on campus, so when I saw his bedroom lights on in my dorm as I was heading back home I knew that he was my last chance for solace. I hadn’t always been on the best terms with Iman and his friends; I knew I had a slim chance of getting into his room, but I was in a state of urgency when I smelled the vapors escaping from his door. I knocked once, turned the knob, and stumbled into Iman’s den.
Three boys turned to look at once.
“Oh… hi… I heard you guys up. I couldn’t sleep either.” Iman looked at me and I gazed into his eyes. I hoped that he would let me stay; I hoped that he would help me forget my feelings. “Yea Mary, come on in, come on in. What is Mary, Mary up to tonight?” I pushed the door a little, but there was a towel on the floor, so I scooted in and pushed the towel into the crack under the door where it was needed.
“I’ve just been drinking”. I had my big red cup in my hand and I held it up and stumbled over to sit between the guys. I know that they all noticed how I wobbled into the room and crashed in the middle of the bedroom floor. Iman was sitting on his mattress which was on the floor under his roommates bunk, and I sat right next to that, in between the two guys that were playing video games on opposite sides of the room. They were playing FIFA soccer and I remember thinking that if only I knew how to play video games, loads of guys would be interested in me. The boys had been smoking and I could smell it on them; I hoped that they had more left and when Iman asked me if I wanted to share a bowl with them, I was inwardly thrilled.
We all had a couple hits and finally I was feeling relaxed. Maybe the night wasn’t going to be a totally failure after all. Iman asked me if I wanted some really expensive, really fine liquor that I had never heard of before and I told him I did, and then as if it were an unspoken code, the two boys playing video games felt suddenly exhausted and said they were going to try and catch some sleep. So they left and Iman got me a drink, and while I drank that sweet divine, he packed another bowl, started a movie and sat down on the floor next to me.
I was swimming in my head; my eyes were extra hazy from the mixture of booze and herbal delight that we had refilled ourselves with and when Iman started to rub his hands up and down my legs, and over my thighs, I was more than ready for him.
But we didn’t fuck upstairs in his room. We went downstairs to my single, and I laid down on my back for him and let him in. He didn’t fuck me hard, but he was thick and longer than I had experienced before and he went in deep. He took it to the limit and a little farther and stayed in longer than I thought was necessary and he took his time about it. He was such a big man and he was drunk and stoned and so was I and he felt like a brick wall crushing down into me. I just couldn’t get him off me and he ignored my cries to stop, and all I could think was that it wasn’t his fault. I was the one who had come to his room searching for closeness. But something had gone wrong in my plan… this closeness was too close and not nearly as personal as I wanted it to be.
When he was finished, I thought that this was my time. I thought that he would stay with me for the night; I thought for sure he would stay and hold me close to his body, and make me at least feel loved for one short night.
But he didn’t stay. When he left, I locked my door, and crawled into bed naked and sore. I buried my tears into my pillow, and cried myself to sleep, feeling broken and stupid and used, as I deserved to be.