It’s been a
year and a half since the incident at the library and as much as I tried to, I
often reminisce about that and I remember every detail lucidly. I desperately
wish I could take it all back, wishing I hadn’t let curiosity take over me, but
I did. And regrettably enough I haven’t been back to that library since. I can
still remember looking into my lust filled eyes in that restroom mirror, with
all those thoughts running through my head, as my ex-friend, went to town from
behind me. I shake myself out of the uncomfortable thoughts and I cringe yet
again, I guess I’m not ready to face those demons yet.
I’m standing
here in my own bathroom now, staring at my reflection, trying to remind myself
who I am. Who am I you ask? My name is Alexander Johnson, I came rushing into
this world as proud Eighties baby on February 7th of 1988. I’m now
14 years of age, dark chocolate skin, standing about five foot five. I have
beautiful jet black curly hair that compliments my round face and chubby
cheeks. I’ve always been on the heavy side, but I try as often as I can to
avoid my stomach. In my mind I’m a skinny guy trapped in a fat suit. I’ve lived
here in Jacksonville, Florida all my life and I currently reside on the North side
of Jacksonville with my mother and father. Life is good; they look at me and
see their ninth grade, A-B student with the 3.5 Grade Point Average, who loves
school, his friends and life. Their son who has no care in the world. They have
no idea of the darkness boiling beneath the surface.
But most importantly, I’m straight. I
do not like men, I’m straight. I have a girlfriend, her name is Serena, we’ve
been dating for about 4 months now and I adore her. I was always used to dating
white girls, but seeing my brothers date, ‘full size’ women over the years, I
took my shot at it, and even though most would say she’s full times 3, I don’t
care, that’s my girl.
“Alexander,
I hope you’re ready for school and not in there playing with yourself!” my
mother yelled.
God that’s
embarrassing, so I respectfully replied, “Yes, I’m just brushing my hair!”
I look down
at my tucked in, button down shirt, which leaves my stomach hanging over my
belt; I exhale deeply, ready as I’ll ever be.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
As the sun begins to peak over the
clouds and turn the darkened skin a bright orange, I’m sitting here in my own
world on the bus on the way to school. I’m sitting across from my new friend,
Terry. A couple of months ago I had noticed Terry Young while being bored in my
own world; he’s quiet, stays to himself and loves music, just like me. After a
week of discreet stalking and staring, I made it my business to start a
conversation with him. Somehow he intrigued me; it was something about him that
spoke to my spirit saying, we were meant to be friends. He’s about 5’8, a
little thick around the middle, but not fat, brown skin, light brown eyes, and
so far he’s kept his hair low cut. He sometimes seems a bit unsure of himself,
but something in his eyes is deep and expressive and it lets me know there is
more to him.
When he
joined my math class this semester after winter break, I had open opportunity
to start up a conversation. So with the obvious approach of “Did you get the
notes in class yesterday?” The rest was history. I wonder did he feel it too. Hmmm…before I can
dwell on the thought I arrived at school.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
By second
period, I find myself in one of the subjects I absolutely hate; gym. But my new
friend Mya makes it tolerable. Throughout the entire period all we do is talk
and sing. She’s the girl version of me, and we have so much in common. She has
to be the prettiest black girl I’ve ever seen. Shoulder length straight black
hair, that complimented her oval like face, with her brown eyes and perfectly
drawn eye brows, and full lips, WOW, she’s so…pulchritudinous.
But I know
she’s unattainable. So I’m grateful for her friendship. We literally write
letters to each other all day long, on average we write about 4-5 letters a
day.
And today
we’ll have a lot to write about, because I’m going to confront Kenyetta; whom
we call Kenya for short, she is this overly corpulent girl that told Serena I’m
cheating on her with Mya. This ridiculous accusation is completely false,
because like I said she’s out of my league.
“Hey Kenya,
can I talk to you a sec?” I asked her.
“Well Alex,
I really don’t have anything to say to you, it’s your word against mine,” she
said.
“But your “word” is not true Kenya, you’re starting
drama where there is none” I said, trying to conceal my anger.
It really
pisses me off that she’s disturbing my relationship. I really care about Serena
and would never cheat on her.
“I’m only
going off what I see, so, if you could, like go away, I’m trying to read” she
said holding the book up to her face, like I wasn’t there.
I am
enraged, it’s as if she hung up or spit in my face. Both of which are
disgusting gestures in my book.
I take a
glance back at Mya and I can tell by the stunned look on her face that we’re
thinking the same thing. So I reach pass her gothic novel and with a loud “Yoink” sound. I make a hard yet fast tug
for her wig and I throw it on the floor to reveal her short damaged hair.
Everyone around erupted in laughter, as do I.
“That is so
not funny” she said, snatching her wig off the floor and running to the
restroom.
I can hear
her heavy footsteps running in the distance.
Ha! That’ll
teach her to cross me again! Feeling pleased with myself, I continue to laugh
as I rejoin Mya to talk about what just happened. I know it won’t fix the
suspicion between Serena and I, but it still makes me feel slightly better. I
doubt she’ll be causing anymore problems here.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Later on the
bus, I’m still tickled by the wig expedition, I tell Terry what happened. He doesn’t
believe me at first, but then he too joins in on my laughing parade.
The bus
comes to a complete jerking stop and so does my laughter when this guy sits
next to me; our afternoon bus is a transfer bus for the students at Paxon High.
Which mean, it picks us up from Frank Peterson Academy and then picks up the
Paxon student and then goes on to the afternoon route. With my immediate distraction, Terry turns
around and I’m left alone to ponder in my thoughts. I once overheard someone call
out his name; Jarek. So unique and sexy, just like his eyes. My stomach turned
in knots; I’ve been looking at Jarek for weeks now and I’m thrilled each time
he sits next to me.
I try my
best to hold on to my straight mentality, but it is non-existent when he’s
around. He has the most clear caramel brown skin, a short neatly kept fro,
which fits his face perfectly. I know I’m straight and above all not single,
but if both of those were the opposite, he’s the only guy I’d consider dating,
strangely enough I think I’m infatuated.
The whole
bus ride, I secretly wish to myself that his hand will slip and touch mine. My
heart begins to race faster at the thought of how soft his hands are. I know I
have to stop staring, but he’s so…beautiful. I can just imagine myself running
my hands down his… I’m quickly brought back to reality as the bus came to a
sudden stop and he gets up to get off the bus. As he walks towards the bus
exit, I wish for him to look back at me, maybe somehow let me know he thinks
about me too. Disappointingly, but not surprising, he does not, and once again
I’m alone with my thoughts. Terry has already gotten off as well, I didn’t even
notice. So now I’m just sitting here in my seat, looking out the window and I
force a daydream about Jarek. I try so hard to picture what it would be like to
date him, kiss him, and hold him in my arms, but my mind won’t let the thoughts
fester. As much as I consider fighting my own resistance, I know it’s the right
thing to do; I have to just let these thoughts go. I can’t wait to get home and off this
temptation wagon.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Later that
night, I found myself completely captivated in the thoughts of Jarek. Alone in
my room, I finally let my mind indulge in the concept of something more with
him. I begin to fantasize about him putting his strong arms around me,
squeezing me so tight that the warmth from his body feels like my own. I can
hardly catch my breathe as he starts kissing my neck and in a soft sweet
whisper, telling me how sexy I am, while simultaneously feeling the big bulge
from his crotch teasing my ass. I exhale and feel my heart hammering in my
chest. I can smell his cologne, breezing pass my nose and I close my eyes, to
take it all in. And in that moment, the excitement rushed over me as I got
aroused. I open my eyes to see Serena’s disapproving face. The judgment in her
eyes compels me to shake myself from the caramel fantasy and I get up to walk
to the restroom, I’m once again face to face with my reflection. I feel like
there are two sides of myself playing tug-a-war. One side that has to stay in
line with what everyone expects me to be, and the other side dying to be free
and explore what I’ve been yearning for.
I observe
myself closely, looking into my lost brown eyes, refusing to say the words that
have been plaguing me for so long. And with a single tear rippling down my
cheek, I say out loud, “I am…not gay”.
Looking closely at myself, like I’m
looking into my own soul, I start to feel consumed with anxiety. I’m hoping
it’ll be easier to confess what I really want to say, but it’s not. But the
words slip from my lips anyway. “I am… Bi-sexual” I say to the reflection,
quietly enough so only I can hear it. And then I quickly turn away, not wanting
to look at myself anymore, because I no longer like what I see.
No comments:
Post a Comment