The Girl in the Window

Next morning I was sitting on the porch catching some chilly morning air when I saw somebody getting chased by the police. At first it was funny, until I found out who it was. It was that nigga Zack. Turned out that he was chased by the cops because they happened to pull up on him at a corner store. Zack, not wanting anything to do with the cops took a run for it. Being the pigs they were, they had something to entertain themselves with so they chased him down.

When they caught him they found out he had drugs on him so they got him for possession of crack and weed. Bail was too much for his mother to pay as the fiend with four front teeth missing and hair hanging on for its dear life. She had a smell that needed to be taken out back and never dealt with again.

Then I came to find out that Zack never even lived with his mother. He used to rent a run down town home and occasionally crashed at his baby mama’s house (his child that he only did just as much as look at) to dodge the landlord.

But I felt for his sister the most. She still lived with her mother and provided for herself and crackie with prostitution. The girl used to go to my middle school and although she wasn’t the brightest, she was willing to learn. Unfortunately luck wasn’t on her side so she had to use the only thing she could to survive.

When I saw Zack getting arrested, all I could do was shake my head in shame.

The only person outside joining me in the cold was Mr. Daniels. He was reading a book. Thankfully the wind was dead that day so his wind chimes were silent. The book looked different that day. I was tempted to ask him what he was reading. Just about to too until I saw Amara heading down the street. She was so fast it was almost like she was running. Her arrival caught me by surprise. She walked up the driveway smiling, watching her feet as if calculating each step.

“Shade, how are you?” she asked cheerfully. “Since Jim is gone, am I able to come in your house?” I smiled.

“Of course.” I stood up and let her in first. I took one last glance at Mr. Daniels, only to see him into his book. Inside my house was Trae and Ebony in the family room. They looked up, feeling the presence of an outsider and walked to me and Amara. Ebony stood behind Trae shy, with a smirk on her face. Trae was bold. He got that from his dad.

“Trae, Ebony, dis my friend Amara,” I said.

“Aw, they’re so cute,” Amara started to say. She looked towards me. “Can I hug them?”

“Sure.” Amara got low to hug them.

“Why you girl if you have cut hair?” Trae asked. I slightly got embarrassed.

“Because I like my hair short,” Amara answered. Then Trae looked at her designs.

“That’s cool,” he said.

“Thank you. Can I get a hug?” Trae smiled and hugged her. Ebony hugged her too.

“I like you,” Trae said. “You’re pretty.” I laughed.

“There you go, he likes you. He doesn’t like everybody.” They stopped hugging her.

“Come on Ebony, les’ play make believe,” Trae said taking Ebony’s hand.

“Aw, that’s so sweet that he’s nice like that to Ebony,” Amara commented. She watched as they walked away. “No offense, but do you all have the same parents because you all have these way different features? And they both seem different from you and each other.”

“Wow Amara, you really pay attention to detail. But no, we all have different dads.”

“Oh.” She looked around. “Well, who’s Trae’s dad because he is so cute?”

“Yeah, let’s not talk about any of the dads, not even mine.”

“Okay, I understand. So, where is your mom?” Right on cue my mama made her way down the stairs. She seemed a little off guard to see Amara. Naturally, she smiled at Amara.

“Hello miss, my name’s Amara,” Amara said without my help. My mama walked to her and introduced herself.

“It’s nice to meet you Amara. So, you live in the neighborhood?”

“Yes. I live three houses down.” My mama gave me a sly “I told you so” look. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, that’s nice. You’re welcome here anytime and you can make yourself at home. I know Shade made your home her second home.” Amara chuckled. She was so nice and sweet with her presence that it made me feel happier.

“It is okay though, I do not mind.”

“Well, I hate to end the conversation so quickly but I have to go somewhere.”

“That is fine. It is nice meeting you.”

“You too.” Then my mom left out the front door.

“You kind of look like your mom, you know,” Amara said, taking off her coat. She slowly took it off her shoulders. Underneath she had on a short tank like winter wasn’t a season. I took her coat for her and put it in the closet.

“You look like Mosi.” She smirked.

“I get it all the time.” Amara made her way towards the stairs. I followed her. She walked confidently up the stairs and to my room like she lived there.

“How’d you know where my room is?” I asked.

“Wild guess.” I smiled, shaking my head. Like anyone else that came into my room, her eyes went straight to my closet door. I closed the door behind us.

“You know, usually the only time I bring someone in here is if I’ma have sex with them.” She looked at me smiling.

“Is that what we are gonna do?”

“No. Jus’ sayin’ ‘cause it’s kinda weird since we’re not. I don’t know what to do.” She smiled, but let it fade as her eyes fell on the journal on my nightstand. She picked it up and opened it. Quickly I saved the journal from her hands and snapped it close.

“Way to ask,” I said almost rudely, then cleared my throat, checking my tone.

“Shade… you are so secretive about everything. You do not have to hide anything from me. I got you, remember?” I sighed, then I reluctantly handed her my journal. She smiled briefly then flipped through the pages. I sat on the other side of my bed, staring at the ground. I feared her judgment. Every once in a while she would stop at a page.

“Mm,” she would go. “Wow…” she flipped through more pages. “Wow, Shade, this is deep. You can write.” Then she stopped at one page for a long while. Her long pause made me nervous. Then she asked:

“Who is Ceaser?” My head shot up, and within a split of a second, I had my journal again. I didn’t answer. Instead I walked to my dresser to put the journal down, staring at the page. “Something about a forbidden love…?” I stared at the page until my eyes burned. “Shade…?” A tear left my eyes. I quickly wiped it away and ripped out the page.

“He’s nobody,” I finally said. I began tearing the page into tiny pieces then threw them away.

“Obviously he’s somebody.”

“He’s forbidden to be talked about, that’s what he is.” I flipped through the journal and tore out anything with his name on it and ripped it to shreds.

“He’s nobody,” I repeated. I was slowly becoming angry. “He ain’t shit.” I tore every single poem up that I knew was about him and threw it away.

“Calm down, Shade.” I kept tearing away. Then I felt her hug from behind. It was so compassionate that I had to stop.

“What makes you upset, Shade?” she almost whispered.

“People who are inconsiderate of other people’s feelings. And I know I’m a damn hypocrite for saying that but nobody gives a fuck about how I feel, so why should I give a fuck about anyone else?” I started crying angrily, trying not to break down. “Nobody really gives a fuck about me, I’m just a tool.” Amara guided me to sit on the bed. “And I’m always the one who gets hurt from everyone else’s fucked up decisions.” She let me lay on her shoulder. “Nobody cares enough to ask me how I feel about anything before they do it, they just do it. Then my pain isn’t supposed to matter. When am I supposed to matter?” I was asking, truly wanting to know the answers. “Am I really that fucked up of a person that nobody wants to be bothered with me?”

“What about me, Shade? Don’t you matter to me?” I sat up and looked at the ground.

“I want to believe that you’re different,” I started to say. I sucked snot and rubbed my eyes. “But I’ve heard it all before from now faceless voices.”

“Can you trust me, Shade?”

“I try to.”

“I care for you. I always consider your feelings. I always will. Until you don’t want me around…”

“You got me,” I said under my breath.

“Never doubt it.”

“You have to prove to me.”

“I will.” She was silent for a while. “You gonna tell me who he is now?” I shook my head. “Okay.” Again we were silent until we started talking about my writing. She gave me numerous comments on my writing, telling me how deep and almost depressing the writing was. She asked me if I had any happy writing and I told her I did when I was nine. But that was no more. Then she asked me to sing her one of my poems that was written in song format, but I refused.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I’m not so good.”

“What? You are probably just being insecure.”

“No. Lorraine is better anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re not so bad. An’ speaking of Lorraine, I saw her the other day.”

“What she do?” She smirked, shaking her head.

“Nothin’.” I sucked my teeth.

“Man Amara, I know you lyin’. What she do?”

“She jus’ laughed at me wit’ some of her friends. Jada was the only one who didn’t laugh.” I looked away, getting upset. “I don’t know, somethin’ about the way she laughed at me got me wantin’ to fight her myself.”

“I been wantin’ to murder dat bitch. I swear, if she say one more thing to me…”

“I’m sorry, I did not want to make you mad.”

“I’m good.” We changed the subject and started talking about random things. We talked until she decided to go home.