fall behind the sectional. I’d get it later. “Nah, but thanks. I got my stitches out Friday and they said I could get the area wet now.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to take you to that appointment.”
“It’s all good. I need you for something bigger.”
Chris plopped her ass on the sectional with me and started packing a bowl. “Whatchya need?”
“An ear.”
“Whatever Monet.”
“It was Van Gogh, and I need someone to listen and help me sort shit out.”
“Fo sho.”
“It’s about J.” I figured I’d give her the chance to change her mind.
Chris was silent for a moment, m aybe contemplating if she really wanted to have this conversation. I wouldn’t hold it against her if she bailed on it.
“I can’ t guarantee I’ll be unbiased. Still ain’t real happy with the face fucker, but I’ll listen and try my best.”
“Face fucker?”
“I’m running out of material here, OK. Just roll with it.”
And so over a bowl, I laid it out. I told her all about J’s visit, going into some pretty graphic detail. I expressed the myriad of emotions I had going on. I loved him. I hated him. I forgave him. I damned him. I wanted to be with him, but felt like a fool for still caring about him. I was strong. I didn’t let men fuck my head or my heart up like this. It was what made me who I am, or was. There was this little voice though, who lived deep inside my head, that wouldn’t shut up. It kept saying I was miserable before J. That I was merely existing, not living. The voice told me that I was broken, damaged, shattered, and more. That I covered it up with ice and cuss words to avoid the fact that I didn’t know how to love because I was so terrified of it.
J changed everything for me. He shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. My life wasn’t boring before J, but it was just a series of motions I went through each day. I was content, but was I happy? I thought so. All I had to compare it to was my teen years, which were pretty sucky. I’d told J most of my jacked up stories; the men I fucked for a place to sleep, all the drug deals gone wrong, battling my mother and her constant disapproval. Compared to that, when J found me, I was doing pretty good. I had my apartment, a job, I was in school, and I had Chris. What more could I need?
Love. I needed love. We all need love. We all want love. Whether it’s the love of a mother, best friend, or significant other, we all want someone to care about us. Someone who would miss us if we disappeared off the face of the earth. I had people like that: Chris, Larry, Aaron, Jesse, and maybe José. J took it to another level though. My friends loved me and would help me out of a jam anytime.
J’s love was fierce and extreme. It was passionate, sensual, and filled with meaning. He brought out the best in me. I was REAL with him, and he loved it. He loved me , and I matched that love. I may not have shown it to him enough, but my love for him burned though me like a raging California forest fire. When we were wrapped up in one another’s body, it was as if we melted into one being, a being that radiated love and light. He wasn’t a monster, he was my savior, taking me from existing to living.
A few bowls and a box of tissues lat er, I’d spilled it all to Chris, including the sex, the emotionally charged yet hot as hell sex that I could only have with J.
“So are you gonna wait for him?”
“Well, that is the million dollar question I suppose. I want to, yet I feel like I shouldn’t.”
“It’s not like I don’t hate J anymore, but I guess I get it more now than I did before. The fuck nugget still shot you, but damn, that was one hell of a story. His shit’s fucked up, man. And what is this plan of his exactly?”
“That’s just it. We promised no more lies, but then he won’t tell me the plan, claiming he wanted me to be able to say I don’t know anything. Who the fuck am I gonna have to say that to, huh?” I threw
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to take you to that appointment.”
“It’s all good. I need you for something bigger.”
Chris plopped her ass on the sectional with me and started packing a bowl. “Whatchya need?”
“An ear.”
“Whatever Monet.”
“It was Van Gogh, and I need someone to listen and help me sort shit out.”
“Fo sho.”
“It’s about J.” I figured I’d give her the chance to change her mind.
Chris was silent for a moment, m aybe contemplating if she really wanted to have this conversation. I wouldn’t hold it against her if she bailed on it.
“I can’ t guarantee I’ll be unbiased. Still ain’t real happy with the face fucker, but I’ll listen and try my best.”
“Face fucker?”
“I’m running out of material here, OK. Just roll with it.”
And so over a bowl, I laid it out. I told her all about J’s visit, going into some pretty graphic detail. I expressed the myriad of emotions I had going on. I loved him. I hated him. I forgave him. I damned him. I wanted to be with him, but felt like a fool for still caring about him. I was strong. I didn’t let men fuck my head or my heart up like this. It was what made me who I am, or was. There was this little voice though, who lived deep inside my head, that wouldn’t shut up. It kept saying I was miserable before J. That I was merely existing, not living. The voice told me that I was broken, damaged, shattered, and more. That I covered it up with ice and cuss words to avoid the fact that I didn’t know how to love because I was so terrified of it.
J changed everything for me. He shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. My life wasn’t boring before J, but it was just a series of motions I went through each day. I was content, but was I happy? I thought so. All I had to compare it to was my teen years, which were pretty sucky. I’d told J most of my jacked up stories; the men I fucked for a place to sleep, all the drug deals gone wrong, battling my mother and her constant disapproval. Compared to that, when J found me, I was doing pretty good. I had my apartment, a job, I was in school, and I had Chris. What more could I need?
Love. I needed love. We all need love. We all want love. Whether it’s the love of a mother, best friend, or significant other, we all want someone to care about us. Someone who would miss us if we disappeared off the face of the earth. I had people like that: Chris, Larry, Aaron, Jesse, and maybe José. J took it to another level though. My friends loved me and would help me out of a jam anytime.
J’s love was fierce and extreme. It was passionate, sensual, and filled with meaning. He brought out the best in me. I was REAL with him, and he loved it. He loved me , and I matched that love. I may not have shown it to him enough, but my love for him burned though me like a raging California forest fire. When we were wrapped up in one another’s body, it was as if we melted into one being, a being that radiated love and light. He wasn’t a monster, he was my savior, taking me from existing to living.
A few bowls and a box of tissues lat er, I’d spilled it all to Chris, including the sex, the emotionally charged yet hot as hell sex that I could only have with J.
“So are you gonna wait for him?”
“Well, that is the million dollar question I suppose. I want to, yet I feel like I shouldn’t.”
“It’s not like I don’t hate J anymore, but I guess I get it more now than I did before. The fuck nugget still shot you, but damn, that was one hell of a story. His shit’s fucked up, man. And what is this plan of his exactly?”
“That’s just it. We promised no more lies, but then he won’t tell me the plan, claiming he wanted me to be able to say I don’t know anything. Who the fuck am I gonna have to say that to, huh?” I threw
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