“Damn, girl, you ran in this mother-fucka like you was dodging bullets or sum’ shit.”
I just smiled wanting him to hurry up. He took me to practice from that day on, borrowing a crack-head’s car until he got up enough money for his own. He put it in his mother’s name because I was too young. From there on out the two of us were inseparable. O helped me transition to the next stage of my life. He bought me gold earrings, rings, necklaces, and bracelets with his name in them. He would even buy my little sister, Chyna, jewelry and clothes from baby G.A.P. In his mind, I was his.
He didn’t pressure me for sex. Little did I know at the time, when he was pressed for sex he had girls lined up for that. I was his good girl who never gave it up. Eventually we got to the point of touching and licking and he would go down on me every now and then, which I quickly learned to enjoy. He took me with him Uptown to flip. Bought me coats and shoes that I couldn’t explain to my mother, and by this time, my father moved out of the house. Akeem knew the deal. He felt as long as O didn’t hurt me he didn’t have to get involved. Plus, he helped take me of out the shell Akeem claimed I was in. Akeem thought I was a cornball until O snatched me up.
O taught me street slang and how to protect myself on the streets. He helped me with my schoolwork when I had difficulties. He was a smart student as a kid. That science and math type of genius. He attempted a year at Ramapo College but couldn’t let go of the streets and ended up flunking out. He went right back to the same streets his mother had hoped he had been saved from.
For some reason Samantha adjusted to the idea of O and me quickly. She had eventually began inviting him over for dinner, to my delight. This is one of the advantages of my dad being gone, I thought. I was a B+ student all throughout high school. I figured as long as I maintained good grades my mother wouldn’t mind my relationship with O.
Over the next year, rumors started circulating about Samantha getting high. People would watch what they’d say around me out of respect for O. One day, when basketball season was over, I came home and mom wasn’t there. I dismissed my curiosities until I noticed my five-year-old sister there asleep. I had been there for over fifteen minutes before l had noticed. My head began to spin. I was not accustomed to my mother performing irresponsible acts like this. I immediately called my confidant, O. He told me to calm down and not to think the worst; she’d be home soon. Strangely, twenty minutes after we hung up the phone mom came keying in the door. She ran into the bathroom to shower saying that she’d be out in a minute to start dinner. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing.
Later on that evening, the doorbell rang while I was in bed listening to music at a moderate volume. My mother answered the door and after hearing her mumble a few words I assumed the door was for her. A few seconds later, my bedroom door opened and my guest entered the door with a smile and flowers; it was O. He didn’t say much. I was so happy to see him all I could offer was a split face grin. He asked me how I was feeling about what had happened earlier. “I don’t know,” was all I could say.