“Melody! Melody, are you okay?” I can feel Carmen shaking me and can hear her voice in my dream. “Wake up. Are you okay?” She taps me lightly on my cheek. Everything is a blur when I finally open my eyes. What the fuck happened! Who passes out from a kiss? I’m dumbfounded! She continues to call my name and ask if I’m okay. My eyes are open, but I don’t know if I’m too embarrassed to speak or if I’m in a state of shock. She picks me up, takes me to my bed, and lays me down. She lies beside me and rubs my face. “You’ll be all right. I’m sorry for doing too much.”
“That caught me off guard,” I finally respond while lying in the dark. I question my calmness and I look over to see that Vanessa is no longer in Skylar’s bed. “How long was I out? Where did Vanessa go?”
“Not long. As soon as you went into the bathroom, she woke up and seemed cool, so I sent her on her way. Are you sure you’re okay?” She rubs my brow.
“Do you always make women pass out when you kiss them?” I question.
“I’ve never felt the desire to just kiss anyone the way felt to kiss you.”
“Why me? Is it because I’m straight, vulnerable, or both?”
“It’s neither of the two. The connection I feel for you is undeniable. No matter how I try to disregard it, it only grows stronger.” I feel myself tensing up more throughout my entire body. Should I fight myself for questioning my sexuality? I don’t know what it is, but I suddenly feel myself fuming as she proceeds. Her lips are moving but all I hear is a loud ringing sound in my ear. A connection. Is that what I’m feeling and don’t want to admit it? A connection. I wonder what type of connection. Why am I thinking about her this way? What is it? Maybe I have gay tendencies. Maybe I’m a lesbian myself. A connection. I need to leave. I’ll leave and call Detective Jackson, as promised. “What’s on your mind? Did you hear anything I just said?”
Oh! She makes me feel so good. I should leave before I do something I can’t take back. No! She should leave! “I remembered I’m supposed to hook up with an old friend for drinks tonight,” I say with a straight face. It feels like she’s ready right through my bullshit. Is it just me or is all lesbians like that? Skylar makes me feel the same way; like she can see straight through me, to my soul. “You don’t have to stay, you know? I plan to be out for a while,” I conclude.
“I don’t mind. Eventually, I’ll get my clothes for tomorrow and then come back here and study. Are you sure you’re okay with going out? Are you driving or getting picked up?” She asks one too many questions. Is it strange that I like it? I hate it when Skylar asks me a trillion questions because her questions are always stupid as hell, but Carmen’s make me feel like she cares.
I glance at the clock on the microwave. It’s after seven. I wonder if Detective Jackson is off work. Instead of answering Carmen, I go to my beach bag and pull out his number. I read the name written on the piece of paper and remember the name on his badge. Malik Jackson. Pleasant name for a detective. I get my phone to call him and notice I have a missed call from my mother. To have some privacy, I go in the bathroom to return her call.
The relationship between my mother and I is different. Her way of showing she loves me is through material things or providing financially. She’s not affectionate, and she never tells me she loves me. As beautiful as she portrays to be on the outside, her inner spirit is one big, evil, ugly sin.
My father showed us more attention than my mother did, but not the way they should show it from a parent. His form of affection got him in the trouble he’s in now… locked up. They sentenced him to fifteen years in prison for molesting my younger sister Sabrina, may she rest in heaven, and has served only four so far. Apparently, the judge was not lenient on him and demanded that he serve every single day since my little sister wasn’t the only child he was molesting. He caught a major case here in Chicago while here on business. Once the authorities caught him, they locked him up and found out about several other cases within the city, and my sister’s case and other cases in Miami. I think he knew I would’ve cut his manhood off if he ever came at me like that. I have always been the feistier child. My mother and him remain married, but she has a boyfriend she’s been dating for four years. It’s clear she wasted no time moving on.
“Hello, Mother. What’s going on?” I close the bathroom door.
“Hello Mel. How is everything going in school? I thought you would have been and called before now, but I haven’t heard from you since you left Thursday. Is everything okay?” She sounds concerned. This isn’t normal because my mother lives in a little bubble with only herself and her man.
“Yes, Mother, everything is fine. I’ve been busy settling in. I made plans to call you before the weekend. I want to go to the condo on Friday and stay until Sunday. You guys don’t have any plans for it, do you?” My mother sometimes has parties there for the elite business class, or they sometimes rent it out.
“No, there are no plans. Enjoy. Are you taking anyone with you? Have you met someone new yet? I heard what happened to Jarmaine, such a tragedy. His mom called me earlier today and gave me the news. It’s good to know he’s hanging in there. Aren’t you glad he’s doing well? How are your classes? Do you have that International Business class? I hope so. It would be a significant benefit for you when you graduate.” My mother’s boyfriend must not be around because she’s asking more questions than normal.
“Slow down, Mother. You sure have an awful lot of questions.” She, of all people, knows how I feel about a lot of questions, but I reply with short and sweet answers. “No one is going with me. I have met no one worth discussing. Yes, I’m glad Jarmaine is doing well. My classes are okay so far, and yes, I’m enrolled in International Business.” My tone becomes dry as I realize she wasn’t being concerned; she was being nosy. If Mrs. Wheaton hadn’t called her, I’m sure she wouldn’t have called me.
“That’s wonderful. I have to go now. Oh, and Melo go see your father, please. He wrote a letter asking about you. He says he misses you and begs for your forgiveness. I’ll be buried in my grave and still won’t forgive him.” That’s the evil, self-absorbed type of person my mother is. I get a lesson of forgiveness from one person, and then this from her all in the same day. No wonder I’m always confused about everything in life.
“I’ve forgiven him, Mother. I just haven’t had time to go see him.”
“I will have to let you go. Sam is calling me.” He’s such a controlling boyfriend.
“Okay, Mother, I’ll talk to you soon. Tell Lucia I’ll talk with her soon.” We say our goodbyes and I hang up. My body relaxes on the toilet as I think about my mother’s success. I just wish she were a better mother. My memory is vague as I try to recollect a time when she’s shown me any love or affection. School and work consumed most of her time, which she did more than my father. The housekeeper, Lucia, is the one who made sure there was always a hot meal on the table. Could this be the reason I don’t know what love is? I’ve been learning to love myself unconditionally, but that even becomes questionable. With loving someone else, I’m a complete failure in the department. Is wonderful sex love? Is great sex love? Is money love? Will I ever have it? My mother does everything to keep and love a man but does nothing to show me unconditional love. She never sat me or my sister down and explained what a menstrual cycle was and how it worked, talked to us about boys and sex, and she never gave advice on the meaning of love. I’m learning everything on my own through experience, and it’s teaching me well. Lucia tells me all the time about how I’m the opposite of my mother with men. She says we’re like night and day. Jarmaine was lucky to get a second chance, but I was adamant on not giving him a third one.
My sister resented my mother because she felt my mother allowed horrible things to happen to her. My father would creep in her room every night for over four years—from the ages of nine to fourteen—and take her innocence. When my sister told my mother, she didn’t believe her. After my father got caught and punished for his wrongdoings, my mother still refused to acknowledge the situation with my sister. This caused her to commit suicide on her fifteenth birthday. All she ever talked about was how she wished my mother loved us and showed us the same attention she showed my father, work, and school. She didn’t want the attention my father gave her, and she didn’t deserve it. I was two years and five months older than her and distracted myself with reading and writing. I would write in my journal about all my deepest darkest secrets, desires, and passions. My journals know more about me than my mother does.
“Do you mind leaving me your key?” Carmen says through the door.
“Yes, I’ll leave it for you,” I say, remembering I would call Malik to see if he wants to hang out.
“Okay, cool. I’m going to my apartment to get clothes now. Will you be here when I get back?”
“Wouldn’t I have to be to let you in?”
“Oh yes, that’s right! I’ll be sure not to take too long. Can you come lock the door behind me, please?” Carmen is waiting at the door when I open it. “You good?”
“Yes, I’m good.” I hold the door open as she exits.
“I’ll be twenty minutes at the max.”
“That’s cool. I’ll be here.” She finally leaves and I lock the door. I go sit at the desk and call Malik. He answers on the third ring, sounding just as sexy as he looks. Tall with muscles in all the right places and dipped in chocolate. His eyes are a dark maroon looking color, and his waves are those of the Pacific Ocean. My ass instantly gets nervous. “Um, hi Malik? It’s Melody.”
“Hello, Melody. I’m surprised you called.” I can feel the grin on his face through the phone.
“I’m a woman of my promise. Are you busy?” I probe, hoping he isn’t because I could use a beer, and it wouldn’t hurt to get the scoop on Jarmaine’s case.
“No, I’m wrapping things up here at the station. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat,” I ask, trying not to sound as nervous as I really am.
“That would be excellent. What did you have in mind?” His excitement tickles me.
“There’s a Hooters not too far from here on South Cicero. Their wings and shrimp sound delicious right about now. We can meet there in an hour.” My stomach growls at the mention of food.
“That sounds great. See you then.” He sounds like a kid in a candy store.
I hang up and go to my closet to find something to wear. I remove a pair of denim American Eagle jeans, a white tank top and purple thong sandals and place them in the bathroom, along with matching bra and panties because who knows what might happen afterwards. My grandmother told me to always go outside prepared by wearing clean and matching underwear. In case you have to go to the hospital or in case you luck up and get some.
I wonder where Carmen is. Just as I pick up the phone to call her, there’s a knock at the door. Through the peephole, Carmen stares back at me. After I let her in and turn to walk to the bathroom, she grabs me from behind.
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers in my ear.
“What do you mean? I’ve already made plans to meet someone.” Her embrace paralyzes me. And not because it’s too tight.
I feel my body relaxing. “Please stay. These feelings I have for you are hard to shake now that I’ve officially met you. Just tell me if you feel it too and if you don’t, I won’t mention it again and I won’t come on to you again.” Her words travel through my body like the melody of a sweet love song.
“I have to go get dressed.” I turn and stare into her hazel eyes. I don’t want to deny or admit my feelings because I’m confused about them.
She lets go. “I’ll be here when you get back.” I’m glad she understands.
Once in the bathroom, I turn on the shower and some tunes, undress, pull my hair into a ponytail, put my shower cap on, and step in. The water feels great. A good shower always gets my mind right. All the filth from the chain of events over the past couple of days is scrubbed off by the Dove body wash. There’s a breeze that causes me to turn and notice Carmen stepping in to join me. My body instantly freezes. She closes the shower curtain and approach me slowly while the scorching water runs down my back. The closer she gets, the more the electricity emerges. Still frozen, she removes the towel from my hand and washes me. She starts at my shoulder and moves down, gently washing in circular motions. As my body slowly relaxes, I clench her shoulders for balance and support as she kneels to wash my feet. Not understanding why I haven’t flipped out again, I allow her to wash my entire body, not once, but twice. She stands, grabs me by the waist with one hand and washes my cookie with the other. She knew this would make me weak as my legs wobble below me. She uses all her strength to hold me up. The rubbing from the towel and the motion of her hand is driving me wild, and every time she touches my button, I hold my breath, trying not to moan. She does this repeatedly until my body explodes and then becomes stifling.
“Here’s something to think about while you’re out,” I hear her whisper in my ear. She stands me straight up and reminds me I must get dressed. Unable to speak, I gather myself, or at least try to, and point to my dry towel. She reaches behind me, turns the water off, and then turns to recover my dry towel that’s hanging on the other side of the shower curtain. She dries me off from head to toe and wraps me with the towel. Carmen is still standing wet and naked, looking like a tall glass of water. She steps out the shower and holds my hand as I follow. Standing motionless, her soft hands rub lotion on my body from top to bottom. Once she’s done, she looks at me and asks, “Do I need to dress you also?” I don’t speak, but my head moves up and down. She takes my panties and puts them on, followed by my bra and the rest of my clothes. Then she takes my Burberry Brit perfume and sprays it in all the right places. Turning me around to face the mirror puzzles me. To my surprise, she does the unthinkable, and takes my ponytail holder off—allowing my hair to drape past my shoulders—and brushes it softly. “There,” she nudges me closer to the mirror. “All done.” While observing myself in the mirror, I notice an unfamiliar but radiant glow.
Finally able to muster up a few words, I view her naked body through the mirror and say with big and bright smile, “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Carmen reaches in the shower, turns the water back on and steps back in. On my way out of the bathroom, she peeks out the shower and says, “I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” and disappears behind the curtain.