"Keysha, you must understand that a woman is carrying paradise. And you can't let every ship you see dock on your shores. It is okay and normal to have urges but you're in control of them. You choose when, where and how to turn them on or off. Remember, being intimate with someone is a very special gift and should not be given away because of an urge. Urges come and go but love lasts a lifetime."
"But what if a boy doesn't like a girl because she isn't active?"
"Then he never saw the value of you in the first place."
Wow,
I thought to myself. I was amazed at how Grandmother Katie connected our conversation back to the church sermon.
"Do you have any more questions?" she asked. "Come on, it's okay. You can ask whatever you want."
"No," I said. "I think I'm good for now. But if I have more, I will definitely ask you," I told her as we exited the highway and continued on our journey home.
Wesley
hen I awoke the sun was just peeking over the horizon. A sense of peace washed over me as I watched the sun prepare to greet the world. I felt rejuvenated because I'd gotten a good night's rest. I was happy because my mom couldn't rush into my room during the night, shouting and screaming at me. Nor did I have to listen to her accuse me of doing things that I did not do. I sat upright on my bed, pressed back against the cold brick wall and peered out of the narrow window that was in my holding cell. I wanted to cry about my situation, but I fought off the urge by thinking about stuff that made me angry. That was a unique trick that I'd taught myself. It was my way of covering up just how badly my feelings were hurting. My mom has made my life a living hell. She doesn't trust me, she's suspicious of me and she makes up stories about how horrible I am as a son. She thinks I'm violent, disrespectful and has hated me since the day I was born. At least that's the way I think she feels. One time she sent me to a therapist because I told her that I'd rather run away and live on the streets than live with her. I cringed at the memory of having to go a therapist.
Spending a lot of brain energy thinking about my mom was driving me nuts, so I decided to lie down for a while longer or at least until the guard opened the door to let me out.
Later that same day I was sitting around the common area killing time listening to Deon talk about how he'd met his girlfriend at a regional cheerleading competition.
"My buddy Jerry and I went to the competition to see how lucky we could get," Deon said. "Fifteen different schools were represented and the girls were a perfect ten."
"Yeah, right," I said, not fully believing him.
"Dude, I'm telling you. Every girl in the gymnasium that day was a hottie. It was like being at a Miss America pageant and the Playboy Mansion all at the same time."
"Okay, with all of the perfect models there, how did you manage to pick just one?" I asked.
"I don't know. It just happened. I was sitting in the bleachers watching her and her team compete for the regional title. My eyes were just drawn to her. I liked the energy she had and she never stopped smiling even when the pyramid her team tried to create collapsed because a move wasn't executed right. Right then I knew that I wanted to meet her and learn everything about her."
"So, what did you say when you got your chance to meet her?" I asked.
"I caught up to her out in the gym hallway at the water fountain. She was humped over, sucking up water like a fish. I stopped for a moment and studied her long brown legs and the way they disappeared behind her red cheerleader skirt. I studied the shapeliness of her legs and the way her calf muscles contracted to form a perfectly shaped heart. Man, she has some awesome legs." Deon momentarily became lost in his thoughts until a batch of new detainees who'd just entered the common area moved directly past us. "Anyway, our first meeting didn't go so well. I said to her, 'Hey, tough break, you'll get it next time.' She stopped drinking water and looked at me as if I'd just spit on her."
"She said, 'There won't be a next time. You'd know that if you were a true fan of the sport.'"
"Oh, snap. She treated you like that?" I asked, laughing because I could visualize him standing in the hallway with a clueless look on his face.
