DEPENDENT.

Highway 401, going east, Summer 2010

“So what are we going to do if I am pregnant?”

Her question, awkward as it was, helped to break to awkward silence that was currently present. I eased back in the passenger seat and turned my head about a quarter of an inch to the right to look out the side window. The Blue jays fitted brim sat low, covering my eyelids and giving me just enough room to see. As  polite as I was, I definitely had a G side. One that not many people got to see. But Patricia? She was the exception. At twenty-nine, her long, brunette hair curled down from the top of her head to her cleavage, where the ends became buried in. While I had fallen for her mature, yet balanced personality, her short but thick lips and amazing body figure was the real reason I had found myself in this situation. Pregnant. The word had so much weight to it. I was only twenty two. Despite the fact that my rapper-aspiring ass had yet to make it big, what was I going to do with a kid? Patricia was definitely more financially stable than myself, but so what? I refused to turn into one of those niggas that let baby moms hold it down when it came to paper. Fuck that. But what if she was pregnant? Was this really going to be my first child? I turned my head back towards her just as she was approaching the Neilson Road exit.

“What wouldn’t we do?” I responded in a low, but serious tone. My answer provided enough grey area for her not to assume I’m heavily in one direction or the other but it had enough content to make her feel as though I was on her side, which was the truth. I was. I was never really one to run from my own problems and I wasn’t about to start. She gazed at me as we waited for the light to change.

“Would you be there for me?” the words came out softly as she reached for my left hand and rubbed it slowly.

“Of course. What kind of question is that?” my tone still but low but assertive.

“Okay.” Her voice seemed reassured that whatever the outcome, I was here. It felt good knowing that this girl, grown as she was, was dependent on me in some way, shape or form. I was ready to hold it down, if need be. Who knows how this was going to affect my rap career, or even my schooling. But I didn’t care. It was time to prioritize. We pulled up to the townhouse before I could collectively gather my thoughts and respond with a detailed response. Despite the tenseness of the situation, she gave me a look that I knew all too well. I had been a week since I gave her a good workout and that condom had ripped. But so what? We both knew we could do with another session.

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Her voice getting sexier and sexier with her word. She had never asked me that before so I completely knew what that meant. The time was 10:36. The food from Moxie’s had already settled so I wasn’t worried about an upset stomach.

“Yea. Sure.” I couldn’t help but smile. Here I was, about to start a program at school in less than a week, and Patricia and her Double D breasts were all I could think about. We hadn’t been in the house a minute before it was on and popping. None of my roommates were home and the landlord had gone O.T for the weekend. I had her up on the bathroom counter top faster than Young Jeezy could say, “Ehhhhh!!”. It was about to get seriously loud in here. Her demin pants slipped down to the floor and revealed what had got to be the smoothest coke bottle figure shape a five foot two Bajan girl could have. Making sure my two fingers on my right hand were wrapped up in her hair, I used my left to take off my shirt. Common sense was on pause. I knew she might be already pregnant but right now, I did not care. It was time to go ham.

Smartie.

An excerpt from ASS: A Smart Story, Chapter 29: Summer Nights

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s