You can write the author at: brownluver@yahoo.com or
Chris Carr at: andy_dick35@hotmail.com
Thanks!
Chapter XVII
At first, I couldn't answer Duane's question, even though I knew the truth. Each time
Craig kissed me, I knew it. Each time I chanced discovery just to get off with Craig, I
knew the answer. But shame. Shame won't let me embrace that answer. And so, when my
brother asked me if I was gay, shame intervened and took control.
"No, man. I ain't gay. You know me, Duane."
Duane didn't question me further, or dispute what I said, confirming just how much he
didn't know me. Or, perhaps, what he chose not to know about me. We shared a brotha hug,
something we hadn't done in a long, long time, and went back downstairs to his new home
away from home. Not too long after, dad was ready to leave. Mom shed a few more tears and
dispensed some extra hugs and kisses before we hit the highway, headed for St. Louis
without Duane.
His absence at home was immediately felt by all three of us. Without Duane's music
blasting or mom fussing at him to clean up his room, or him and dad hollering at the TV
while watching football games or boxing matches, the house bemoaned his absence with
deafening silence.
Dad didn't even attempt to ask me to join him doing any of the things he'd done with
Duane, and I didn't volunteer. I guess he and I were locked into our roles, and even the
loss of dad's last, "favorite" son couldn't change that. As usual, the only
times he spoke to me was when he needed me to do something. "Boy, take out that
garbage." "Run down there to Jewel's and get your pops a Sunday paper."
During the swim season, it was a special occasion indeed when he was among my supporters
seated in the bleachers, but he never missed one of Duane's football games.
Thank goodness school resumed, otherwise I was going to go crazy in that super quiet house
all day and night. The beginning of my senior year brought me a new friend. The first day
of my third period pyschology class, someone poked me in the back of the head. When I
turned around, Maya Martinez, Craig's ex-girlfriend and the girl in my second-grade
fantasies, was smiling at me. I hadn't seen her since Duane's pool party a few weeks ago,
but from what I remembered, she'd been pretty unhappy that day. In psych class, Maya was
all smiles, and the Craig wasn't weighing so heavy on her thoughts anymore.
"He is so tired, Trace. The sorriest of sorry-ass Negroes to ever walk the halls of
Vanderbilt," Maya said at lunch, slurping her strawberry strake. "Do you know
that fool had the nerve to try and talk to me after that pool party? After he let all
those $2 hoes push up on him like he did? (If only she knew who was pushing up on him in
the
restroom!) I hung that phone up right in his ear. Shit. He ain't fooling me. Only that
that nigga wanted was some going-away pussy."
I almost choked on my coke laughing at Maya's phrasing. "Damn, girl. Sounds like you
got old Craig pegged."
"Finally," she said. "After being his stupid little toy the past year. He
didn't never love me, Trace. He only loved getting in my panties. And that was the only
thing he was good for. Fucking."
I shrugged. I couldn't testified to that, but then again, that was my business, not
Maya's.
"So what about you, Trace? Why haven't I seen you witha girlfriend lately?"
Whoah. That came out of nowhere. "How do you know that?" I joked. "I could
have a girlfriend at a different school."
"Nope. I'd know about that. And she would've been at the pool party with you."
I laughed, trying to ease some of the sudden uncomfortableness out of my body. "So
what, you checking me out or something?"
Maya smiled. "Let's just say I know you ain't hooked up. And that's a damn shame,
Trace. You're one of the finest dudes at Vanderbilt."
Her words pushed me back in my seat, shock most likely etched in my face. My ears rang in
disbelief. One of the finest girls I'd ever known thought I was FINE? "Come on, Maya.
I ain't no Craig McLemore or nothing."
Maya leaned forward. "No you're not. Your kind of fine ain't just skin deep, like his
and half the other jocks around here. Your fine is internal. To the bone."
Damn! Maya was lifting me up onto a five-foot pedestal. Me? Finer that Mr.
Irresistible/Homecoming King/star football player Craig McLemore? What was I to say? I
hadn't received enough compliments from the ladies to know how to proceed.
"Thanks."
"I just wish I had known you was crushing on me back in second grade. Maybe then
Craig McLemore wouldn't have broken my heart."
I almost gagged on my french fries. "Whaat? Who told you I was crushing on you?"
"Something I overheard a long time ago," Maya said. "My brother Lyle and
your brother Eric was tight back in the day, remember? Eric used to come over our house
and tell me we was going to be family one day cause you were going to marry me."
I just shook my head. Crushes weren't supposed to be divulged, but damn if my age-old
infatuation with Maya wasn't already out in the open. Talk about embarrassing!
"I wasn't thinking about boys then. But I think it's cute that you had a crush on me.
Shoot, you must've really liked me, too, cause I didn't even have a body then."
"I guess your fine is internal. To the bone." We both laughed.
There was an awkward silence before Maya reached into her purse and pulled out a little
black book. "Give me your number," she said.
Without hesitation, I recited the seven digits. Maya rose from the table, smiling. On her
way to dispose of her trash, she whispered in my ear.
"You'll never guess who has a crush on YOU." She giggled and walked away.
Somebody tell me why I turned all the way around and watched her, becoming excited at the
prospect of exploring her beauty...when at the same time, I was feigning for her
ex-boyfriend's dick?
Chapter XVIII
The moment came when I passed by the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom
door. It was that moment when I stopped, stared and asked myself: Who the hell am I?
Only minutes ago, I'd got off the phone with Maya--telling her that I had to go dishes--so
that I could get ready for the GMAAD youth group meeting. I hated lying, but no one could
handle the truth, certainly not Maya. She saw me the way I'd always wanted females to see
me. Every time she called, she made it clear that I was fine, intelligent, a good
conversationalist, and yes, definitely dateable.
She'd asked me to take her to the Homecoming Dance next
weekend (unconventional, I know, but I had no intentions of going to the dance or asking
anyone to go). She was a Homecoming Queen nominee, which meant that I would be in the
spotlight as her escort. We weren't dating officially, but because we hung out together so
much, everyone at school assumed we were. Maya was such a popular girl, and being in her
company brought unexpected attention my way. Before I was seen walking the halls of
Vanderbilt with her, girls never seemed to notice me. Now, they were calling my house
wanting to just "talk." And I'm not talking about two or three. Mom joked the
other day that pretty soon, I'd have to hire a personal secretary to keep track of all the
female calls coming in these days.
I won't lie. It felt damn good being so "wanted." At the same time, I wasn't
feeling none of those girls that called. I spoke to them out of politeness. But I made it
very clear that I was not interested in a relationship, just friendship. Maya, however,
was another story entirely. Getting caught up with Craig this past month had turned my
head around until I didn't know what I wanted--girl, boy, boy, girl? Cause, I was
definitely feeling Maya. The girl was beautiful. We hadn't done anything besides kissing
and a little rubbing and touching, but I was so tempted to go further. I knew Maya was
down. But I couldn't take advantage of her that way.
Maya deserved a dude that could commit himself to her, not just sex her, but make love.
Craig had already used her body for his pleasure, and I just couldn't do the same, no
matter how tempted I was. Of course, thinking about Craig helped me put the situation in
perspective, too.
I hadn't had any contact with him in over a month. I assumed he was going through the
freshman class at U of I and had little time to consider someone who lived over 200 miles
away. Frankly, Craig didn't weigh on my mind as much as he used to, and when he does, it's
because I'm horny and in need of his brand of sexual healing. More and more, this happened
when I was around Akil Anderson.
Yes, Akil. The guy with the teddy bear-brown eyes who'd inadvertently led me to my first
GMAAD youth group meeting. The guy who had become my bud, my ace and my right hand side.
We could talk about almost anything because Akil and I were in the same place, experienced
the same confusion, and hid under the same
veil of hypocrisy. What did I have to hide from Akil? Okay, so maybe he didn't know about
Craig. But knowing that wouldn't change the way he looked at me. Who wouldn't be attracted
to Akil? He was tall (6'3"), built like the champion swimmer he was, with a smooth,
hairless body the reddish-brown tint of a penny. And that smile. I'm sure Akil's dentist
enjoyed his visits, because his teeth were as polished
as porcelain, so white that when he smiled, I had an urge to swab my tongue across them to
make sure they were real. He was so bright, too. He was always reading something, and I'd
only recently discovered he was peeping poetry. In fact, Akil was a poet himself.
After tonight's meeting, he and I were going to walk down
to the Longbranch Coffeehouse for a poetry slam, where I was to hear Akil recite an
original composition for the first time.
On my way out the door, mom called me to the phone. "You and these young
ladies!"
I'd just gotten off the phone with Maya, so it couldn't be her. And that meant that
whoever it was, I had neither the time nor interest for conversation. "Hello?"
"Hey, kid. You missing me yet?"
"Craig?"
"The one and only."
To say I was shocked would be the understatement of understatements. "My mom said a
female was calling."
"That was a friend," Craig said.
A friend? Yeah, right. "What are you doing calling me like this?"
"I said I'd be in touch."
"Well, I was on my way out the door, Craig."
"So what, fuck me?" We were both silent. "Naw, better yet, fuck you, huh
kid?" He snickered.
"If that's all--"
"I"m coming down next weekend. I want to see you."
I looked at my watch, realizing I was already late for the meeting. "I can't. I'm
going to homecoming."
"You? Going to homecoming?" Craig asked. "Okay, what's his name?"
"Goodbye, Craig."
I hung up the phone and left.
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