I took a tour of Crenshaw Blvd alone. Along the way I met an author by the name of Terry "NoBrakes" Wroten and bought all of his books, brought Ms.Pearl a designer purse, and brick a belt. I thought of Brick and bought him a copy. I could hear the blend of various music blaring through the speakers, the rows of palm trees and I finally saw a low-rider bouncing up and down. I was in a place that was vibrant, the traffic congested, pro-keds, khakis and plaid shirts. I took pictures of the mural but who I thought about was Brick meeting his mother. I thought I saw Tyrese Gibson and Larenz Tate. Nothing seem so beautiful, the sun, the various people, guys riding out on tricked out bikes, the sun on my face. I never felt so at home the way I do in L.A. Nothing feels more beautiful.
I pull out my pad and began sketching the beauty of a group of people dancing beside me was three other artist doing the same. I see the blue Cadillac, and I hear my name yelled out. I turn my head and the sun glistens off his chocolate skin, his sunglasses on his face, his crisp white t-shirt, the doo rag on his head and the women admire him including me.
"Come ride with me I know you tired of walking."
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"No, I am enjoying the view and are you demanding me to ride with you?"
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"Shit, Janae stop playing so much and get in I need to talk to you." I get in and the traffic is at a stand still.
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"So how did it go with your murderer?"
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He twists his lips and shakes his head.
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"She sat telling me my uncle is my father and that she didn't want me. So I'm all fucked up in the head and I offer to go to dialysis with her, right. I hand her my number and the trick throws it in the garbage. I don't care anymore at least I know I don't have a mother." He shrugged it off.
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" But it hurt's, Jensen. I crave and you crave for that motherly love every child on this earth deserves that. It is okay to feel some type of way even if it is sadness."
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"I don't care and take it as that."
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"Fine, I bought you a book by this author Terry Wroten. To live and Die In L.A. I thought it may be good for you." He takes the book and look at the cover.
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"I'll give it a read. You didn't go out here messing with no drugs or nothing?"
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"No, I was exploring and drawing. Why do you think I am doing the worst?"
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He pulls over into Ms. Pearl's restaurant and leans back.
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"I just want to make sure you are not getting caught up in some insanity I gotta get you out of. You need to get into a N.A. meeting and some counseling." I whip my head around and I snap back.
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" I got this under control and I am not some strung out addict that needs to get high every minute of the day. I'm okay."
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"Who you trying to convince me or yourself? What about the cutting shit and all the other stuff."
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"I'm done with this conversation and you have no damn right to come at me like you're perfect. You know what your problem is that you try to use what you know against people. All I am trying to do is like you and right now you are pushing me away, idiot."
I pull the button up to open the door and slam the door. He sits in the car for a few minutes and I storm up the stairs. I find my key and walk into the room. The swirl of the ceiling fan, the window open and I take off my dress . My first time looking at my skin, the bulge of my belly, the marks on my legs describing my pain, my arms with several healed cuts and in the mirror was me. I take out my hair small ringlets of curls cover my face. I wrote the misery on my skin, the sadness of each slit on my arms was the many of times no one listen to me. The times I couldn't cry with my tears and I use the razor to release what I thought I could hide.
I heard the knob turn and his footsteps from the reflection in the mirror. His steel gray eyes stare at me. He saw the complete mess I am without ever seeing the scars.
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"I was not judging you or trying to make you feel bad about yourself. I don't always say the right words I know that and I just don't ever want to see your body marked up like that. You ever feel like you have to cut talk to me. I promise not to judge you."
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Stupid Jensen Brick McCall making me feel all mushy, my stomach fluttering and my pulse beating in my throat and tingling all over my nerves. I lower my head and he comes closer puts his arm around my waist. His skin feels as if it is melting into mine. I don't know why he feels right close to me.
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"Both of us just want to know what real love feels like. No games, no lies, no waking up and the illusion is gone. I've been judged and told love is ugly, full of cutting myself to feel good. All of it was for someone to give a damn to say, 'I love you.' I know it doesn't make sense."
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He turned me around and our nose touched. He was debating whether to kiss me, debating whether to connect with another misfit. I wasn't sure if us together would make us better or destroy us.
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"It make sense and I don't have a clue why I am so connected to you. Why I want to guard you with my life. I don't believe in fairytales and made for T.V. romance. Can I kiss you?"
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I moved in closer and I place my lips on his I let him stick his tongue into my mouth. I feel electric and for several minutes I am stuck into his world. I feel the inches of him grow on my leg. My nipples feel hard and his hands touch me on my behind. The knock on the door and Ms. Pearl voice announcing ,
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"Dinner. I made it real good and I need the both of you to come down. Rita Pearl, your mother and the whole family is here to meet you.
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"We'll be down in a minute, Mama Pearl."
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I kiss him again and he holds me into his arms.
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My phone rings and my sister name flashes. He steps back and I take a deep breath.
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"Answer the call and I see you downstairs."
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I slide on my dress, fix my hair and put on some lipstick.
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"Hey."
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"Hi. Are you okay where you are?"
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"Yes, I am fine."
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"I worry about you?"
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"I know you do but I am okay where i am at. I am out of every one's hair and they can be happy with their favorite daughter. I am dead to y'all".
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I slip my feet into my wedges and look into my envelopes with the money. Every dollar is there. I put it in the lock box and then the other locker.
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"So why are you calling me?"
"I'm pregnant."
"What? By who? Stop playing Ms. Perfect."
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"Robert Walters is the father of my baby."
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I drop the phone and I can't breathe.
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"what?"