Cracked Roots & Roses 11: Positive

After the dear John letter, I threw almost everything he gave me away. I gave the life-sized teddy bear to my nephew and took the block off the phone to hear a familiar voice. Gino eventually called. He wasn’t the same. His underlying tone was bitter. While I was busy playing Sandy Olsson from Grease in the ghetto rendition of Summer Love, he had gone to trial. He was found guilty and sentenced to 20 years. He said it wasn’t as bad because some of it was time served. He would have to do 10 years, and the rest would be “good time” to be considered for early release. This meant another six years or so.

I asked if he could finally talk about the case now that it was over. He said, “No, this is still a jail phone, and there’s nothing to talk about.” He would be transferred to a state prison in a few days to serve his term. This time, it was he who kinda broke up with me. He said, “I’m glad you went to prom. I only wish I could’ve taken you. Go live your life. I need to keep my head while I’m in here. I’ll write you to give you my information once I’m settled. Write me when you can, but don’t feel obligated.”

We talked a little more to end on a good note and then hung up. That was the last time I ever heard his voice.

I started hanging out with my cousin after all of this. I would go to her house on the weekends. She was my cousin, but we never really hung out like that in high school because she was also in a “Siamese couple,” until her breakup when she went away to college. She eventually dropped out and came back when she got pregnant, so I was around to help with the coming baby.

One night, while on the porch, some boys came around the corner. One of them had a distinct belly laugh. He laughed and then belted out a note from a Luther Vandross song. This would one day be my husband. One of the boys from this friend group like me, but I didn’t really like him, because he was too handsy and always smelled kinda like mildew. I didn’t like to be touched, and that seemed to be his mission in life.

The boy with the distinct laugh and great singing voice was in the neighborhood a lot. The guys would lift weights on the enclosed porch across from my cousin’s house. So, of course, us girls put on a little extra lip gloss and Malibu Musk to sit on the porch and talk about absolutely nothing.

A few days passed before—let’s call him Jeremy (not his name)—came over. He was talking and kinda cracking jokes. Well, if you know me, you know I love a good joke. I was grinning from ear to ear. It felt good to belly laugh and I hadn’t done that in a long time. He looked at the guy who liked me and said, “Got her.” I didn’t know what that was about until the guy who liked me backed off.

Turns out, they did this often. If you could make the girl laugh, that meant she liked you. So Jeremy started casually coming over every day. They would toss the football in the street, and it would land in my cousin’s yard, etc. Ya know, he found a reason to be in front of me and to make me laugh. We would sometimes sneak the boys into the basement on occasion to watch movies and eat pizza.

I liked Jeremy. He was so sweet. He had a job at McDonald’s and was very polite. He wasn’t a tough guy or a college guy, just a normal guy. He treated me like I hung the moon. He was safe. The more I look at it, the more I realize I went for him because he was safe. I didn’t have to worry about him being arrested for murder. I didn’t have to worry about his dad influencing him because his dad was absentee. I didn’t have to worry about him cheating because he acted like I was the best thing since sliced bread. That was selfish of me; I see that now.

After the summer ended, I was home more. I was taking various training courses and jumping from job to job—whatever paid more is what I did. Jeremy and I continued talking as friends. I told him about Gino but left out the unsavory parts and downplayed the connection we really had. I’m not sure why I did that.

Turns out, Jeremy lived two blocks from me. I had never seen him before, but that meant nothing because I didn’t hang out in the neighborhood anyway. He started coming to my house every other day. He was on the backend of a breakup from a girl named Rita. I learned this because one day, while I was at my cousin’s house, some girls we had never seen walked up and down the block. One stopped and asked, “Who is Kim?”

I said, “Me.”

She said, “Oh hey, do you know Jeremy?”

I said, “Yeah.”

She said, “Oh, okay,” and walked away.

That was odd. He told me they dated for a year in high school. She got pregnant and was carrying twins. The babies died in the fourth month. She went around the school showing everyone the pictures of the babies and put the pictures on his locker. He broke up with her after that because it was too much. She wouldn’t leave him alone. She was now popping up at his house, job, and wherever he went. His friend—the guy who liked me—told her about me. That’s why she and her girls came to see the competition, I guess.

I was out of high school, and they were seniors. I didn’t consider myself any competition because I just wanted to be left alone. I never had time to mourn Gino, and everything I did gave me guilt in some form.

Jeremy kept coming around under the guise of being a friend, and that was cool because I didn’t have any friends. He was good to have around. If I said I was hungry for a brontosaurus burger with fries, he would go find it.

One day, while watching a movie, my doorbell rang. I buzzed the person up, assuming it was someone for my mom. I unlocked the door, and there stood Derrick, holding a teddy bear and a single red rose in a plastic case.

After the initial shock wore off, I slid into the hall and closed the door behind me. I asked, “What are you doing here?”

He said, “I’m home for Thanksgiving. I’ve been trying to call, but you haven’t written me or returned any calls.”

I said, “You wrote me a letter. You said you didn’t want a relationship because the girls were ‘aLl oVeR yOu.’ You didn’t wanna cheat, and I didn’t wanna be cheated on, so I accepted the breakup.”

He said, “I didn’t mean to write that. You should’ve called me to see.”

I sighed, frowned, stared coldly, and said, “What can I do for you?”

He said, “I came to apologize. I want to start over.”

I said, “I have a man.”

That wasn’t true. Jeremy was my friend, but I needed to hurt him like he hurt me. I saw the hurt wash over his face and instantly regretted the lie.

He said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “JUST what I said. He’s on the couch right now.”

He said, “Oh, it’s like that?”

I said, “Yes. That’s what you wanted, right? Now you can go to school and sow all the wild oats you GOT.”

I looked up, and in the light, I saw a tear. That’s when I really felt bad for him. The truth was, I didn’t like him as much as Gino, but I did like him, and he rejected me.

In the long run, I see now that this wasn’t wisdom. One was in college, and the other was working at McDonald’s.

I had no plan for anything long-term with Jeremy. He was essentially a placeholder for me—until he wasn’t. We got closer. He expressed his feelings for me, and I laughed them off.

Then, one night, he stayed over when my mom was gone, and we slipped up and went too far. The next morning, I regretted it because that meant a relationship. I had never had a one-night stand, so I didn’t know how to say, “Oh, that was a mistake. Let’s never talk again.”

Well, that was a heck of a mistake because, a few days later, I threw up and I felt sick all the time. I went to the Planned Parenthood near my cousin’s house to get a pregnancy test.

It was positive.