Chapter 11
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At the show, Keyshia and Clyde were having the time of their lives as they sang along to Lyfe’s lyrics. Just one of many things they would soon learn that they had in common. Lyfe was at his absolute best that night—singing all his hits, “Smile,” “Greedy,” “Stick Up Kid,” “Cry,” “Made Up My Mind,” . . . but he saved the best for last: “Must Be Nice.” He then started singing the song, and it was as if he were talking directly to them.

Must be nice
Having someone who understand the life you live . . .

Lyfe instructed all the ladies to “grab hold of your man and look him in his eyes, and listen to this.” Clyde felt Keyshia take his hand as she turned toward him and they gazed into each other’s eyes.

After they had dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant on the boardwalk, they decided to take a slow walk on the beach. The evening was incredible. Shoes off, they walked hand in hand as the moon shone down upon them. It was as if they were on another planet, far away from the urban jungle that they both inevitably would have to return to.

“You never answered my question,” Clyde said softly as he admired the sand between his toes.

“What’s that?” Keyshia asked.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen. I be eighteen in three more months.” Keyshia studied his face and asked, “Why. Does it matter any?”

Clyde pondered the question. “Naw, not really. I ain’t nothing but eighteen myself.”

Keyshia smiled and said jokingly, “Shit, I thought you was ’bout forty years old the way you act.” He smiled. Keyshia searched his face, noticed he still had questions that needed to be answered, and offered him an out. She stopped and said, “Listen, Clyde, I ain’t got nothing to hide, so you can ask me whatever you want. But I can basically tell you that I ain’t have too much of a pretty life to talk ’bout. My mama from down south ain’t want me, so they send me up to New York to my aunt Ninny. She ain’t like me or want me there. I ain’t too smart enough for them schools, got left behind plenty of times. I can’t even read or write good. I ain’t got no friends I could think of, and I’m always by myself.” They walked up to the boardwalk and sat on a bench.

They sat face-to-face, and Clyde still had an inquisitive look on his face. He began to stare off into the ocean, and he said gently, “What about that, you know, that crack shit you be fuckin’ with?”

Keyshia knew it was coming and was kind of embarrassed to discuss it, but he had a right to know what he was getting himself into. Above all, she wanted the relationship to be open and honest from the beginning. She thought about it hard and long before she answered, still unsure what to say, so she just got honest. Brutally honest.

“When I was eleven, I was raped a lot by my preacher from the church doing Sunday school. He tells me not to tell nobody, and if I did, God gon’ strike me down with lightning. I’s useta tell my mama I’s didn’t want to go to Sunday school no mo’, but since the preacher help my mama out with groceries, he say just keep sending me to Sunday school so I can learn God’s word. Few months later, my stomach start ta grow.”

A knot grew in Clyde’s stomach, and he continued to listen. “They carry me down to the doctor, and he confirm I’s was pregnant. The sheriff come and everything, and they ask me did I trys ta force myself on him and I’s tell ’em no. They turn silent, and the next thing I know they start making like it was my fault. Keep tryna make me say I throw myself at ’em and things like that. I tell ’em, I’s never like what he was doing, him being on top of me, hot breathin’ and all, but they still make like he the victim.” Keyshia spoke almost robotically as she recounted the incidents that happened next. “They found out that I was too far gone to get rid of the child, so they carried me away ta stay with this old, old lady, and I’s wait there all the while till the baby come.” Keyshia closed her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Clyde squeezed her hand in comfort. “Keysh, you don’t have to tell me the rest, I understand.”

Keyshia shook her head. “No, I gots to do it. I never told nobody ’bout this.” Clyde put his head down as his insides raged for her. “I had a baby girl.” Keyshia smiled. “She much prettier than me, I remember.” She put her head down and said, “Right after that, the old lady hand my baby off ta somebody and I ain’t seen her since. They say I can’t never have no babies again, ’cause I was so young and all.” They stared far off at the ocean. Keyshia continued with a little more confidence. “Since I’s was trouble, they sent me off to New York to live with my aunt Ninny. She couldn’t stand me from first day. She always call me black and ugly looking, that I’s was nasty.” Keyshia rubbed Clyde’s warm hands. He instantly took off his jacket and placed it around her. She thanked him and snuggled in it.

“Back then I was nothing like I am now. I was quiet and afraid of anything that moved. I was so country and country soundin’ that I didn’t open my mouth fo’ nobody ’cause I was too shamed.” She began rocking back and forth. “A year or so ago, I was coming home from playing hooky at one of them department stores downtown, and this boy . . .” Keyshia sneered when she mentioned his name. “Omar, he come up to me and asked me could he walk me home.” She shook her head and fretted, “I, I didn’t know what to say, I was scared and just say okay.” She paused to get past the lump forming in her throat. “He follow me up to my apartment, and that’s when I saw three of his friends coming up the stairs.” Keyshia began to break down. “He punched me in the face and pushed me in the apartment and they locked the door and ripped my clothes off of me and took turns—” Keyshia couldn’t go on any further as she hugged Clyde tightly and cried her heart out on his shoulder.

He kissed her tears and cheeks and reassured her that things would be okay now. He reached in the jacket she was wearing and pulled out a tissue to hand to her. Wiping her tears, she took a deep breath and continued, “When the police came to the house, they convinced my aunt that I basically brought it on myself because I brought him to the door. They got away with it, and my aunt beat the living hell out of me.” Keyshia’s jaws began to grind. “After that, I turned cold as stone and didn’t have love or innocence left in my heart for nobody. No matter how many baths I’s take, I’s still dirty feelin’. I didn’t care anymore, so I just get numb by smoking weed and stuff like that. But I found out that if I put that crack in it, I feel different. I don’t feel so dirty no more, I don’t feel so lonely no more, I don’t have to feel, period.” Misty-eyed and puffy, she looked at Clyde. “There it is, boy, everything in a nutshell about the ho called Keyshia, love me or leave me.”

Clyde looked her in the eye and caressed her face gently with his finger. “You ain’t no ho, you are a smart, beautiful young woman who didn’t deserve what happened to her. But you are worthy to live the way God intended for you, and that is not the stuff you doing now. You much, much better than that.” Keyshia stared deeply into his strong eyes and gripped his hands tighter. “As long as I’m alive, you will always have someone there for you in me. You saved my life and I’m forever thankful and loyal to you, Keyshia, and I mean that!” They searched each other’s faces, and then Clyde said seriously, “If nobody ever told you that they love you, let me be the first to say it: I love you, Keyshia.”

They embraced and kissed for the first time. Keyshia’s body trembled uncontrollably, but this time it was not from fear, nor was it from hurt, and certainly not from pain. She shook because for the first time in her short, turbulent life, she felt the power of being loved.