The Girl in the Window

Turned out the new guy moved in the neighborhood next to mine. He waited at the bus stop in his neighborhood. My eyes were always out the window so I made sure to see what he looked like. First thing I liked was his height. Since I’m five eight, I liked a guy that was around six feet. He looked at least that height. But that was all I could pick up. He had on a black hoodie like it was freezing outside and a purple fitted cap. He had a blank look on his face like he didn’t want to be there. Sat in front of me on the bus and I picked up the slight sent of his cologne. The smell was attracting. Already I liked him. He was on my list.

As soon as I sat with Lorraine and Jada, I knew I was going to ask them about that new boy.

“Ya’ll seen dat new boy yet?” I asked.

“Girl yes, and he more den cute, he fine,” Jada said. “But he act like he don’t wanna talk to nobody.”

“Oh, I think he ride our bus. Saw him on dis mornin’.”

“Oh shit for real?” Lorraine started to say. “We gon’ have to start takin’ da bus in da mornin’ den.”

“You can, but I can’t. I got swimmin’ workouts in da mornin’. My mama be trippin’ about me not doing nothing’ in school,” Jada said.

“Speakin’ of swimmin’,” I started to say. “I’ma try out for basketball.”

“Girl, what for? Ain’t nothin’ but dykes on da team.” Lorraine said.

“‘Cause I’m good at it. And I wanna stay in shape. And I be bored after school.”

“Well shit, then I should do somethin’ too.”

“You can try out wit’ me.”

“Girl, I ain’t got no basketball skills.”

“Can you swim?” Jada asked.

“Nah, I can drown.”

“Wrestle?” I asked.

“Hell no, that’s gay.”

“Then go out for gospel choir.”

“So I can sing about Jesus an’ shit?”

“Who care? It’s for the singing.”

“I’m already going to hell. What I look like singin’ ‘bout it?”

“If you ask me, we all goin’ ta hell.”

“Whatever, I might.”

“Cool. Auditions are on the same day as winter sports tryouts.” Then the bell for first period rang. Couldn’t wait to see Sasha so I was up and going right after.

She sat by me again in class but she acted a little different. She didn’t say much of anything to me, so I simply read to her. The whole time she was looking around and playing with her hands, but I pretended not to notice. Deep down though, it bothered me. She looked like she felt down or that something was bothering her. Eventually I stopped reading and did my work. She took out her phone and started texting like a mad man. My concentration wasn’t on my work, it was on her. The whole time she flipped her hair, fixed her glasses, and bit the side of her cheek. I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything.

Come lunch time and she was late to coming to the table. When she did, she sat down like she was angry. She stabbed at her lasagna and shoved it into her mouth. I just looked at her. Then she shot her eyes at me and asked:

“Why were you so quiet yesterday?”

“What you mean?” I asked.

“I mean at lunch when I practically told you I’ma fuckin’ lesbian.”

“Oh,” I lowered my eyes. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“Why?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Is it because you didn’t want to be cool anymore ‘cause you think I’ma try to come on to you or somethin’?” I shook my head like I crazy person.

“No. I was just shocked. I still like you.”

“Really?” she asked not believing me.

“Really. I mean, you don’t do no damn work, but you seem nice.”

“So even though I’m gay, you don’t care if we’re friends?”

“No, I don’t care. You’re the same person. I just know now that you like girls.”

“Okay.” She calmed down.

“Did people stop being your friend for that before ‘cause dey found out you’re gay?”

“Yes,” she answered exaggerated. “And I hate it so much. It makes me feel bad ‘cause I still like girl stuff. I still like makeup, eye liner, girl clothes and shit like that. But jus’ ‘cause I like girls, girls be actin’ like I’ma end up likin’ them even when I don’t even think they look good. Then dey act like dey can’t talk about girl stuff around me. I’m like ‘hello, I still have a vagina and ovaries,’ like what the fuck.

“But I’m happy you don’t care. Wish more people were like dat. Das why I tried making friends with ugly girls, so dey know I don’t want em.”

“Is dat why you friends wit’ me?” She laughed.

“Do you think you’re ugly?” she asked. I shrugged.

“I don’t know. Some people think I am.” She shook her head. Out her purse she pulled a mirror then handed it to me. I looked in the mirror, since it was obvious that was what she wanted me to do.

“Look at your eyes, both eyes,” she said. “Look at the way they curve and the brightness of both of them.” I did. “Look at the roundness of your nose and how it’s different from anyone else’s. And your full lips. They’re perfectly round and slightly pink. Look at your skin, you have no blemishes and an even skin tone. Your face is soft and you have a nice jawline.” I looked.

“Do you still think you’re ugly?” she asked, looking me in my eyes. I slightly shook my head. She took the mirror from me and put it away.

“I think you’re really pretty too,” I said. She smirked.

“Shade, why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I told you already.”

“You sure it’s not ‘cause of something else?”

“I’m sure.”

“Why did you stare at me the first time you saw me?”

“Because… I think you’re pretty, I mean, you look good.”

“Come on Shade, be open wit’ me. I was open wit’ you.”

“That’s the truth.”

“You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” I looked around at all the faces around me thinking how they would react to me if any of them knew. Should I have cared? Who were these people to me anyway? Nameless faces. None of them had room to talk shit about anybody.

“I like guys too,” I said without thinking. She smirked.

“So you’re bisexual?”

“I don’t like dat term. I just like good people and I don’t have a problem with having sex with them.”

“Have you ever been wit’ a girl?”

“Only twice.”

“What was it like?”

“First person was good. Second person was awkward ‘cause she was experimenting.”

“How many guys have you been wit’?” I hated that question.

“Too many to count.”

“Damn. Why do you like guys then?”

“‘Cause I’m da one who ask for it. Then I screw em over.”

“When did you realize you were bi, I mean, you swing both ways?”

“The first girl was my friend. She told me she was gay but I didn’t care. She was really pretty too and I liked her style.

“But anyway, one day we were hangin’ out at my house late one night and talkin’ then she got all close and touchy ‘cause she was feelin’ me, then all of a sudden she kissed me. I didn’t know what to do but kiss her back and she was real gentle. Then somethin’ came over me and I started kissing her neck and stiff, and I liked the way her nipples looked and... yeah.”

“Okay I see, scared to say more.” She laughed. “But I get the picture.”

“Yeah, it just felt right.”

“So if it felt right, why do you still mess with boys?” Then the lunch bell rang.

“Uh,” I started to say, throwing away my untouched food. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” I said.

“Alright,” she said not believing I had a good answer. But I did.

I didn’t really talk to Lorraine and Jada walking home. My mind was too much on my conversation with Sasha that I knew that if I talked, I’d say something about it. So my mouth stayed shut.

“Girl, look at the diamond ring Jim bought me!” My mama said when she got home. I was just finishing up my paper for English when she said that. I looked at the stone on her finger. It seemed to sparkle no matter what light hit it.

“Yeah, look like he robbed a bank to get it,” I said.

“Whatever, Shade.” She took a seat across from me. “He comin’ here on Friday.” My eyes almost fell out my head.

“For what?” I snapped.

“To watch ya’ll and mingle. I’ma be out with a wedding planner ‘cause he said he wants me to do whateva I like with the wedding. So ya’ll be nice.”

“I don’t need to be around him, he ain’t nothin’ to me.”

“Hush up! I ain’t gon’ let you ruin dis for me. I’m gon’ marry Jim regardless.”

“You don’t care ‘bout him,” I said scowling. My head hurt from frowning so hard. “I wish daddy was alive.”

“Shut up with that now!” she yelled pointing her finger in my face.

“He was way better than des otha worthless niggas you be fucking.” Next thing I felt was a slap across my face. She smacked the tears right out my eyes.

“Go the fuck into your room and don’t leave it!” she yelled. My rage went sky high. When that happened, I really razed some shit. I threw the cup I had on the table at the wall. It shattered and spread all over the floor. Then I threw my chair down, breaking the top of it.

“Fuck you!” I yelled. “and fuck Jim. You don’t give a fuck about me, and Jim don’t give a fuck about you.” Then I started breaking and throwing everything in sight.

“Shade, calm down!” But I didn’t calm. So she started pushing me until I hit the wall. I was taller and stronger than my mom, but I couldn’t strike her. “I said go to your room!” I jerked myself away from her and walked in anger upstairs. “And don’t you fuckin’ dare come out!” she kept yelling. “You can starve in there fo’ all I fuckin’ care. Don’t ask for shit from me. God dammit, you know how to ruin a goddamn day. That’s all you’re good for. Always ungrateful, always unhappy, always putting someone down...” and her yelling continued. I could have pretended like I didn’t hear her through my door, but I heard her every word. And every word caused a tear from me. I cried until I shaked and my eyes felt like salt was poured in them. Snot was forever flowing out my nose and my nose started to bleed. I laid on my back, swallowing my blood, still sobbing. I could hear that my ma was still yelling in anger but my crying kept me from hearing what she was saying.

“Fuck Jim, fuck Jim, fuck Jim,” I kept saying. But the pain didn’t go away. Oh the pain.

The new guy wore a dark green hoodie that day and a yellow fitted. Shoes green and dark jeans with yellow and green stitching. He was like a dandelion, how he sprung out of nowhere within a day. He was nice looking, but unwanted at this certain place and time. Girls would eat him up. But he could be trouble like a dandelion, spreading his trouble everywhere. Hopefully he was a single dandelion. One I can pick and cherish before it died, not worrying about it spreading.
His cologne was only noticeable when he sat in front of me. I wanted to say something to him, something to warm him up for my home run.

I tapped his shoulder. He slightly turned to look at me from the corner of his eye.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

“It’s barely in the morning,” he said, as if he didn’t want to talk about nonsense. I got caught up in his voice. It seemed to cut through the air with a sense of power. Sent chills from my head down.

“You’re right, nothing is up,” I answered back. “Well, did you jus’ move here?”

“What does it matta to you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ wanted to make conversation. I mean, it gets kinda boring ‘round here wit’ no new people or anyone worth talkin’ to, ya’know?” Surprisingly, he smirked.

“Yes, I jus’ moved here,” he answered.

“From where?”

“Connecticut.”

“Oh, das cool.”

“You lived here all your life?”

“Nah. From Maryland. Hate it here. It’s wack as iunno what.”

“So far you’re right.” Then he looked at my eyes. I looked down. “What’s your name?” he asked instead.

“Shade.” I slowly started to look up.

“What kinda name is dat?” he asked chuckling. I laughed with him. “Why’d your mom name you dat?”

“‘Cause my eye… it’s a shade of grey.” He smiled his perfect, fluorescent teeth. Most people had crooked teeth, or braces to straighten them. Or you could tell they once wore braces. But his teeth looked naturally straight and white.

“Well, my name’s Gero.” I chuckled.

“Why yo’ mama name you dat? What’s it mean?” He slightly smiled.

“You tell me.”

“Ha, okay, Gero.” He turned back around after the conversation was over. He was very attractive. Finally got to see it for myself.

“Talked to dat new boy dis mornin’,” I said to Lorraine and Jada. Lorraine decided she wanted to eat breakfast so she got a chicken biscuit. Acted like she didn’t want anyone to see her eating it. Jada always ate breakfast at home. It was usually rice and some cabbage dish called gim chi (kim chi).

“Ah shit,” Lorrain said, nearly spitting her food out. “Guess I ain’t got no luck wit’ ‘im.”

“Nah but he act like he don’t like nobody,” Jada said.

“Well, he was nice to me. At first he was a lil’ rude dough,” I said.

“Jada, you know Shade can make any dude want to get on their knees and eat her pussy,” Lorraine said.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said, being serious.

“It’s true. You always talkin’ some slick shit to get em to want to fuck you good, den you act like dey don’t even exist after.” I could feel my stomach turn and my blood pressure rise.

“Bitch, you jus’ mad ‘cause you can’t get no niggas wit’ yo fat ass.”

“Bitch, I gets mine! At least I ain’t no mismatched eyes ho!” People in the cafeteria were starting to get quiet and listened to our conversation. I shot up, ready to smash her face with her jelly drowned chicken biscuit, but I moved away before things got wild. Jada sat there looking around, not knowing who’s side to defend. But I honestly didn’t give a fuck.

“Bitch call me fat. She da ugliest of us all. God damn black bitch.” I walked to the bathroom. I went to the handicap stall to sit on the dirty floor and tried not to break the door down. Too much drama already. She would always bring up my issues with sex. Sometimes it was funny, but other times it was over the top and unnecessary. She knew I didn’t like to talk about it, but they always pressured me to talk about it. Then me being weak, I did because I feared rejection from the only friends I new. Then I would get the abuse. I knew eventually I would snap. I hoped there was some peace coming soon.

Sasha sat by me first period again. She looked happy to see me but noticed I was angry.

“What’s up?” she asked caring.

“Fuckin’ everything,” I said sitting down.

“Who?”

“Shit, first my mom, then my excuse of a friend.”

“Why yo’ mom?”

“She tryna marry dis nigga I can’t stand.”

“Why can’t you stand him?”

“‘Cause I don’t like em.”

“Why?”

“Jus’ ‘cause.”

“You have no reason?”

“I do… he jus’…” I could feel my tears. “Can’t stand him,” I said, my voice cracking. She nodded her head and looked at me with a sorry face. She placed her arm on my shoulder with so much care, I almost liquefied.

“I feel you girl, I do,” she said kindly.

In third period my teacher moved me next to this kid named Monroe. He didn’t talk to many people in the class but this one girl named Molly. I didn’t want to sit by him. He always walked with his boogers showing and the hairs on his chin pointing at you. I didn’t like how his hair was always shaved off either. It made him look like a skinhead. He also dressed really skater boy like in plain shirts with strange slogans. Honestly, something about him turned me away.

“You want me to write the essay, while you read da article?” I asked. Me and him had to work together. Our assignment was to read about a topic that was controversial, then write an essay on what we analyzed from the article.

He looked funny about it, like he didn’t want me to write it.

“I don’t know,” he started to say. “I don’t want you to put some text writing in there,” he said.

“What da fuck I look like? I can write,” I said. It was the third time that day he tried to insult my intelligence. The second time he automatically assumed I was going to complain or have a problem with reading.

“Just makin’ sure,” he said, as if I didn’t know he was trying to slay. “And make sure you don’t write huge or those ugly bubble letters.”

“I’m gon’ write how I write.” He gave me a stink eye and started reading. I read along with him because I liked controversial topics. It was about the racism in judicial systems in the United States and why it probably happens.

“Well, some black people are just bad, so they go to prison,” Monroe said.

“So you’re sayin’ dat he number of black people in prison isn’t out of proportion?” I asked.

“I mean, who do you usually see on TV and movies getting into trouble with crime and stuff like that? How many white drug dealers do you know that aren’t Italian?”

“Okay, this conversation is over,” I said annoyed. “I’ll write ‘cause das what you wanted me to do.”

“But it’s a group project and you’re supposed to consider what I got to say.”

“Not if you’re gonna have stupid points that have no real sources.”

“But I don’t need a source. Just look at the people around us.” I didn’t even shift my eyes.

“Did you eva think dat maybe some of black people are dat way ‘cause of black history?” I asked. He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes.

“I know you not talkin’ ‘bout slavery and shit like that,” he said. “That happened like, one hundred years ago.”

“Okay, but if it wasn’t for those one hundred years, I wouldn’t have had a lynched great grandpa.”

“What the hell does dat have to do wit’ black people causing crime?” I smiled.

“I’ma write about it.” And I did. I made a connection with everything with African Americans past and present and the racism in our country even presently.

When the lunch bell rang, me and Monroe had no problem with dissing each other. I got my disgusting slice of cold, burnt pizza and took a seat, waiting for Sasha. She came to the table with a slice of cold pizza and smiled at me.

“This might sound weird,” she started to say. “But I been thinkin’ ‘bout you.” I smirked.

“Why?” I asked.

“‘Cause, you remind me of me when I was sixteen. So nervous about everything ‘cause I was different.”

“But you’re not like me. You’re pretty.” she laughed.

“But I’ma real bum loser.”

“Why you say dat?”

“Ha, ‘cause I am. You said it yourself, I don’t do shit. I’m one of the few who’d admit it.”

“Well, you’re a cool person.” She smiled.

“This reminds me, you have to tell me why you still like boys if you can’t even stay wit’ one.”

“‘Cause...,” I thought about how I would word it. “Girls are nice to talk and listen to about girl stuff and whatever, and they like talkin’ ‘bout stuff and expressing their emotions. They can cry wit’ you and be your best friend.

“But with guys, they listen. And even if they don’t, you at least get to talk without being interrupted. They’re someone to vent to, and someone to take care of you when you’re weak. And they don’t touch the same as a girl, or kiss the same. Sometimes I want dat male touch, ya’know. And I also like the look of muscular men. It’s just, guys have a different connection wit’ girls den girls do wit’ girls.” She looked at my mouth, then at my eyes. Her face was expressionless. Then she opened her mouth to speak.

“I understand how you feel ‘bout it. But I just don’t find guys attractive. I mean, I talk to dem and make friends wit’ em, but dey ain’t dat attractive to me.”

“How’d you know you was gay?” I asked. She smirked and breathed a laugh.

“My mama gay. Das all I saw growin’ up. And I love my… moms so much, I just thought it was okay.

“Den one day I went to a strip club with’ a guy friend of min’, and he got me a lap dance to mess wit’ me. It was a big booty girl wit’ watermelon tits. And she smelt like incense, her breath like the best kush you can buy. Shit, she was sexy. Had pretty brown skin too.

“My guy friend wanted to do it to mess wit’ me, but he said it turned ‘im on. ‘Specially how I was looking at da girl like I wanted her naked too.

“After it, he said I was gay. Said I won’t so he tested me. He started pinching and touchin’ me, tryna turn me on, and it worked too. Ended up fuckin’ em, but da whole time, him fuckin’ me felt good, but I was wishin’ he had long weave and watermelon titties, and I wished he had a soft stomach and soft arms. Den I couldn’t even feel his dick no more. All I thought about was dat lap dancer.

“I tol’ em dat after and he said I was gay for real. Den he said ‘too bad, ‘cause you sexy too’ but dat ain’t matta to me, I just wanted to find a girl wit’ watermelon titties.” Out of habit, I looked at my breasts. I was a good D. She laughed. “And thick thighs,” she added. I looked away, trying hard not to blush. It was pointless. “That’s why I talked to you, ‘cause you fit that, and ‘cause you seem unique.” Then she put her hand on my mid thigh. She made me get chills of excitement. I looked around. People already thought I was weird.

“Fuck everyone else. Be yourself,” she said.

“Where do you live?” I asked her. The question was stuck to the back of my throat. She told me, and it wasn’t the address of my new neighbors. But I didn’t care. She was attractive to me.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” she asked.

“Nothing’,” I answered.

“Want to come by my place?” I nodded my head. She moved her hand, but it felt right to me. She gave me her number and told me to call her before I came. We talked about life until the bell rang, and we threw away our almost frozen, charred pizza.

Coming home and I saw another person moving into that vacant house a crack head used to live in. This time a man was moving in. A man would have been stretching it because he didn’t look much older than me. He had light skin and light eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they were from where I was. And his hair was dirt brown. Looked like one of those weird mixed black people.
When I passed him from across the street, he was bent over to pick up a box. Then he noticed me. He looked at me for a good twenty seconds. Felt like his eyes were melting my skin. Then he slightly waved with his two fingers. I nervously waved back and shook the weird feeling him staring gave me. Most neighbors freaked me out anyway.

I got to my room and lied on my bed. Eyes became a part of the ceiling. Blank ceiling, but colorful thoughts. Sasha’s legs and her smile was on my mind. Her liquid hair and giant glasses. All of it was on my mind. I couldn't wait until Saturday so I could visit her. Even her smell was stuck on my mind. I turned to my side and stared at my window. The way she walked. Turned to my other side, eyes on bathroom door. Velvet of her words. Back to the ceiling. The chill through my body when she touched my thigh.

Then I thought about Gero. I imagined him touching all over me. His warm tongue catching my flavor. Teeth white as the sun. A whiteness you couldn’t draw because the paper isn’t white enough. Bitter sweet skin. Voice of picked cotton.

I turned to my side and squeezed my hand between my thighs, trying not to touch. I always had this incurable sex drive. It was never satisfied. I always found myself wanting more. Who were the faces? I couldn’t remember them all. Why didn’t I know all the faces? I glued my eyes shut and refused to break the dam. Tired of my eyes burning. Tired of always wetting my pillows and my sheets.