The Girl in the Window

Three days it took for my boy to come back. He was always switching between his two divorced parents. He wasn’t trying to go to school any time soon because he was lazy and no good for nothing but kissing and fucking. But that was all I needed from him, those one night pleasures.

He caught me coming home from school. Knew my mama worked late on Thursdays so she could go out on Fridays. My boy Wanya came walking behind me after I got off of the bus. I turned around getting ready to kick his balls in before I noticed who it was. It seemed the dumber he got, the more good looking he became. It was Mother Nature working her crafty ways on survival. His skin was smoother than before and his lips still full. Had a little fro that looked really good on him. Same diamond stud earrings in his ear and eyes low like he was always high. Still tall and muscular. Just too dumb for anything else. He was my play boy though when I was feeling for pleasure, he was on speed dial.

“Nigga,” I started to say, facing him. “You know better than to walk up on me like dat.” He smiled his big white teeth and said:

“Damn girl, you looked too good to resist. Ain’t seen you in a minute. What’s poppin’?”

“Not a damn thing.” He smiled, then licked his lips, checking my body. Those eyes of his weren’t nothing but a pair of hands.

“What you ‘bout to do?” he asked, looking at my face again.

“Go home.”

“Can I come wit’ you?”

“Iunno.”

“Come on girl, I miss you.” He moved towards my face to kiss me softly on the lips. I bit my lips and smiled. “We can talk.” I laughed. I knew that was a lie. But I pretended to agree on talking to him. It wasn’t hard to figure what was going through Wanya’s mind at any given moment. To me he was known for being predictable and sometimes easily manipulated.

Walking to my house, he had one ear phone in listening to rap. It wasn’t that good rap either, the kind that made you want to do something good. It was that grimy shit. The kind you’d think cops made to arrest niggas to make their jobs entertaining. That music was like the devil himself was feeding him lies through his ears, all while he’s weighing on his back preparing for the final kill.

“Sling that shit, make money quick,” he said. “Bitches be on my dick. Fuck them hos wit’ my fresh ass clothes. Damn I spit it so sick.” But the beat and song was popping. Had you thinking it was heaven sent to get your feel on. But that only covered the real ugliness behind it.

“Why do you listen to dat stuff?” I asked, walking up my short driveway.

“You talkin’ ‘bout 2Sense?”

“Yeah, whatever da hell his name is.” He laughed.

“‘Cause this nigga raw! Nah but he so ill it’s crazy.”

“Whatever then.” We walked into my house. It didn’t take long before we were in my room. As usual, his eyes went straight to my closet door. It had clippings and cut outs of images I liked on it. I sat on my bare bed, my sheets the same.

“Ain’t never gonna change dat damn sheet, I see.”

“Nah. Remind me too much about me.” He sat next to me on my bed. Then I got up and took off my jeans. He stared at me, interested then chuckled.

“What happened to talking?” he asked.

“Nigga, you know you ain’t come here to talk,” I answered.

“You ain’t neva lied.” He took hold of my hips and pulled me closer to him. He pulled me to sit on his lap, facing him, and started kissing my neck and squeezing my ass. I could have skipped all the foreplay and went straight to fucking. So I tried to speed things up by taking off my shirt and bra, then taking off his shirt and beater. Then he laid me on the bed and took of his pants and boxers. He didn’t take any time going into me. And I wrapped my legs around his back, my arms around his neck. I moaned and cried, then just cried, trying to forget his face. All of it empty pleasure at the end, but I had to love it at the time. Had to put my heart between my legs and his love on his penis. Love me. Love me. Love me. Kiss me like he meant it but it meant nothing. Fuck me liked he loved me, but he only loved one part. Who was he anyway? Another nigga in the hood where nothing was good but the backwards rap music.

When he was done, I remembered if I took my pill that morning. I did. He wanted to lay naked next to me on my soiled sheets, but he had to go soon. His skin on mine felt like wet clothes. Needed, but not good enough. Soon they would have to come off because they would become cold. Or mold would grow on them and they’d stink. Even worse, they’d make me sick.

I rolled off my bed and walked naked to my bathroom. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror and cleaned myself like I was as dirty as my sheets. I came back out and said:

“You have to go now.” Wanya slightly opened his eyes.

“Damn, always kicking a nigga out right after he bust a nut.”

“If my mom sees you, I’ll die young.” He sighed then sat up on the edge of my bed. Took him a minute to get his clothes on and leave my room. I followed him down stairs and out the door. Went back to my room a little bit afterwards and cried on the inside because he helped to ruin my sheets. Finally, I washed my sheets.