Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Belvin, Love

  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.

  August, before my senior year in 2006, I’d just returned from Ohio, visiting relatives for almost the whole summer. The only way I could communicate with my first love was via letters and every once in a while a phone call when I spoke to my mother, he’d be there to speak to me. The day I came home, he surprised me at the airport along with Samantha and Chyna baring “Welcome Home” balloons along with a herringbone gold necklace.

  It was clear that O had missed me. He wanted to express that to me and I thought of a way to express it to him as well. All summer I had been planning to lose my virginity to O. He stood there with a powder blue oversized sweat suit on, a fresh haircut, sharp shape-up, with waves that looked as if they moved. His lips were full and moist. We embraced each other and waited for Samantha to turn her head to kiss. Chyna caught it and began to giggle.

  Once we arrived home, I immediately spotted Keysha and she ran up to me and bestowed a bear hug to show how much she, too, had missed me. She whispered in my ear, “Girl come back downstairs when you’re done unpacking. We need to talk.”

  My heart pumped fear. I’d heard lots of rumors of O cheating with other girls but he denied every accusation. I couldn’t prove it and figured that if he was messing around, those whores knew I was his girlfriend and that made them look just as stupid as I did if not more, I didn’t know about them. I did just as Keysha asked and got right back downstairs.

  “Girl, why O was up here hoe’ing while you was in Ohio?” Keysha announced.

  My heart began to bleed. “Oh, yeah? With who?”

  I’d hoped Keysha didn’t see the sweat accumulating on my forehead. Never let them see you sweat was my mantra.

  “That bitch LaTavia. I told you she wanted to be you,”

  “How you know?”

  “Tracey told me that Angie from Brownsville told her she saw ‘dem at the movies. And I saw ‘dem two dancing at Star’s party last week.”

  “Word?” I responded.

  “Word!”

  “A’ight.” I walked away torn to pieces refusing to let it be known to my friend. I did what I would always do when upset. I walked to the park. Ann, my mother’s newfound friend, saw me and asked where I was going. I hissed, “The park,” and kept it moving.

  I was at the park for about two hours. Many thoughts ran through my mind. Why is he doing this to me? Just as soon as I decided to open up to him, he lets this happen. He’s supposed to be my best friend. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. He knows that. If it’s about sex, why doesn’t he just ask or something? I can’t lose him, not now with my mom getting high and all. What is he going to do when it’s time for us to go?

  I just sat there and thought very hard and long. O and I had been making plans to move out of Jersey when I graduated from high school. Wherever I went to college, he would follow and we would get away. I eventually came to the conclusion that if I wanted O to take me serious I had to start behaving like an adult. All my girls were doing it. Why wasn’t I? Was it because I didn’t want to disappoint my faith? Well my faith had disappointed me by allowing my father to leave without formally saying goodbye. It had seen my mom smoke crack and did nothing. Since my faith obviously didn’t look out for me, I wouldn’t concern myself with it. Well, whatever it was, that was keeping me from making love to my true love would no longer stop me. I was about to go along with my plan to have sex with O. Just as soon as the thought popped into my head, I heard someone call out my name. It was O riding along the street in his car.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?” His voice was laced with anger.

  “I’m chillin’. What the fuck is wrong with you?” I responded.

  Shocked, he looked at me and said, “What’s wrong, man?”

  “LaTavia,” I yelled.

  “LaTavia? What the fuck about LaTavia?”

  “You fucking her now. Why am I always hearing shit through the grapevine? I’m sick of it!” All of this was new to O. I almost never cursed unless I was quoting someone. He was angry and immediately thought of Keysha.

  “Yo Im’ma get my cousin to fuck Keysha and her big ass mouth up. Why ‘dem broads always putting shit in your head? They jealous of you—”

  “No. Fuckin’ LaTavia is jealous of me. Just leave me alone. I’m going home!” I interrupted and began walking towards home.

  Twenty minutes later, he convinced me to get in the car and we drove home. He never denied the allegations, but that realization didn’t come for quite some time. When we arrived in front of my housing building, everyone was outside because a fight had just gone down. Suddenly, all eyes went to O and his girl with the blood shot eyes.

  O got arrested the week after I’d gotten back from Ohio. He was incarcerated for three weeks. It’s absurd how they do young black men who don’t have the money for low tolerant attorneys that could solve many issues by just appearing in court and speaking three or four words. They sit in jail for long and unnecessary periods of time. They claimed that he got lost in the system after they raided a party up on Montgomery Ave. I recalled begging him not to go to that party but he insisted.

  One day O said he had a surprise for me. He told me to tell my mom that I was going to Keysha’s house one night. I just knew that my mother wouldn’t fall for it but did it anyway. She bought the story much to my surprise. That Thursday night O picked me up from Keysha’s place around the corner from the projects and took me to The Loop Hotel.

  That night I became a woman, O and I went all the way. It wasn’t as good as Keysha described it to be but it was definitely satisfying. The next day I went to school with a huge smile on my face. I was now a woman, so I thought. That’s it for LaTavia, I figured.

  Over the next few months, I began to focus on college since there were offers left and right for scholarships. I made sure to include O on every decision concerning my tertiary education. I wanted to move out of Jersey, possibly south, anywhere away from the dreaded place called home. O would always say, “Anywhere you wanna go, baby girl.”

  I sent off applications and from that point on things just got worse. Samantha began to stay away more frequently. The hot, home cooked meals would stop. Chyna would constantly be at our grandparents’ because I had basketball. Akeem would grow distant, taking up long hours in the streets. Whenever I would try to discuss our mother’s new habit, he would give me the cold shoulder and walk away. One day he even had the nerve to say, “You need to stop fuckin’ wit dat nigga, O. Worry about that first! Open your eyes to what’s goin’ on!”

  That statement had taken me aback. Akeem never got in my business concerning O. He would just tell me to be careful; O was an older more experienced guy. “He’s been around the block before,” was all that he’d say.

  I fired back, “Keeme, how ‘bout you stay out of my business and get yourself a girl instead of sleeping with all those dope heads you be servicing!” Akeem left the room shaking his head, clearly exasperated.

  J-Boog would soon move in. His mother, Karen, went off to rehab again for the fourth time, which left him and his older brother homeless—again. J-Boog was a good person in my eyes. He always respected me because of his relationship with my brother. He would be the only other person besides O that I could talk to about my mother’s drug habit, of course when Akeem was not around. But even J-Boog acted as if he was keeping something from me.

  In April of my last year in high school, I decided on the school I would attend, Duke University in North Carolina. I’d always heard nothing but awesome things about southern schools
. I actually chose this school because I figured that it would be easier for O to adjust considering it was close to the metropolitan culture he was accustomed to. When I approached him with the idea, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay”. I thought it was strange but was too excited to deal with it right then and there.

  Two weeks after graduation I visited the school for orientation in June. It was an adventurous weekend. During orientation, I met a lot of people from all over like a girl full of all things eclectic named Michelle from California. She was the orientation leader with a bright smile and a warm, familiar and energetic reception. The orientation group had just broken for lunch and I sat at a table alone when suddenly I felt a strong flow of energy emanating from near. I looked up and there was the orientation leader.

  “Hi! I didn’t catch your name…” Michelle’s presence was bold and uncomfortably confident. I’d never seen anyone so forceful who wasn’t attempting to be intimidating.

  “’Sup…my name is Rayna.”

  My delivery was simply ghetto, so unrefined. I wasn’t accustomed to friendliness from other females and therefore would always come across guarded just in case. Where I was from girls had ulterior motives for wanting to be friendly, like cheating off your test or the attention of your brother. Especially being O’s girl, I’d become the object of lots of unsolicited attacks. You can’t trust anyone in the hood, no one.

  Also, I couldn’t tell if this girl was black or white. She had fair-skin with curly, sandy blonde hair and brilliant hazel eyes. She was absolutely beautiful, but not in a vain sense. There were so many oddities going on with her. I wouldn’t trust what I couldn’t identify.

  Michelle giggled. There was something different about her laughter. There wasn’t a hidden snarl, neither was there a hint of sarcasm.

  “Where are you from? Let me guess, New York or New Jersey?”

  I smirked embarrassingly, why, I didn’t know. Her innocent question somehow made me gush.

  “Oh me? I’m from Jersey.”

  Michelle nodded her head and with the same warm smile and humor in her tone, she belted out, “I knew it. You east coasters all have identifiable twangs.” She bit into her sandwich and immediately spit it back out. “Shit! This is disgusting. You would think they’d at least roll out the culinary red carpet for prospective students.”

  It was my turn to giggle. Her ever-present smile had disappeared and out came a bit of a b-girl. I couldn’t quite articulate what it was about her, but in an instant, I felt a connection to her. Michelle’s aura was unlike any I’d known. She was pure and charming—for no reason. I never had the best read on people but her energy simply agreed with me. It was the strangest and briefest of initial encounters, but something clicked.

  And then it started from there. We talked for the rest of my trip. Michelle introduced me to upper-classmen and told me how she aspired to be in business accounting and to go back home to eventually work for her family’s physical therapy practice after graduation. I told her how I wasn’t sure of what I would major in and spoke about my boyfriend moving down to North Carolina with me, but left my mother’s situation out of the conversation.

  I eventually asked her about her ethnicity and she explained her mom was Irish and her dad was African American. She said being biracial was always an issue for her growing up because her mother’s family never approved of her parents’ relationship. When her mother had become pregnant with Michelle, the family tried to use their money and influence to force her mother to leave her father and abort the baby. When Michelle’s mother decided to have her, the family had no choice but to accept her, but they never got over her parents’ relationship. Her parents never married and she kept her mom’s last name and not her dad’s under the persuasion of her mom’s family. It was rough on her father who disappeared when Michelle was very young. The last she recalled hearing from him was when she was nine years old. I was surprised that she discussed such personal things with me but at the same time our conversations seemed to have flowed so naturally. There was something special about this Michelle.

  The morning before it was time to depart, Michelle asked me for my telephone number and address and gave me all of her information in exchange agreeing to keep in touch. The next morning I left for the train station and on my ride home, I reflected on the fun weekend I’d had in North Carolina. I was so excited to see O and tell him the good news. I’d taken the time to formulate a plan in my mind, I would tell O to contact his connections down there and leave in August.

  My plan included leaving the first week in August when the move in was scheduled for incoming freshmen. He could stay at a hotel during the week and with me every weekend until he found a place. I’d have to wait until the following year to officially move off campus because it was policy that all out-of-state freshmen lived on campus for a minimum of one year. After my year was up, I’d move in with O permanently, get a summer job, and help pay the bills until the following fall. It was perfect.

  I’d leave my mother, her drugs, and Akeem with his weird acting self in that place that they called home and I called hell. My father…fuck’im. He didn’t give a damn about his family. I hoped he’d rot in hell for all the shit he put the family through. If he had only moved us out of the projects when my mother wanted him to she wouldn’t be addicted to that heroine, Akeem wouldn’t be hustling, and Chyna wouldn’t be forced to stay with our grandparents all the time. I’d miss Chyna but could always send for her. Besides, O would be visiting there every now and then; he could bring Chyna back and forth when she wanted to visit. I had it all planned.

  My thoughts consumed me, exerting every bit of energy and I fell asleep during the train ride and dreamed of walking into an apartment that belonged to O and me.

  When I returned home, I would soon realize my world was turned upside down. I got off the train and waited an hour and a half for O. I sat and stood, rose and fell from the bench at Penn Station. Damn, he knows that my train got in at six. I grew frustrated by the second and eventually decided to catch the bus. I got off the bus and walked a couple of blocks home.

  As I entered the dimly lit lobby with a flickering strobe bulb, I checked the mailbox and noticed more college offers and other junk mail. Judging by the volume of mail, I could tell that the box hadn’t been checked since my departure. While waiting for the elevator it was hard to ignore people gazing suspiciously at me. I thought it was strange and embarrassing but wouldn’t utter a word, I just watched the floor lights illuminate up from the panel above the door. The elevator beeped for the door to open.

  Mr. Brown from the thirteenth floor, Ms. Mary with the bad ass kids from building two, Mr. Shapiro from the second floor, and a few others exited the elevator gaping, stealing last glances my way. At that point, I knew something was wrong. I immediately thought of O.

  “Honey…” I turned to see if someone was addressing me since all eyes were on me after all. It was Mr. Brown. He shuffled a little closer to me nearing his round belly to my small frame in an attempt of privacy.

  “Now listen, if there is anything that me and my missus can do for you, you make sure to come and see me. Ya hear?”

  I nodded, filled with so much confusion and turned to board the elevator. I got off on my floor confused as hell. This is why we ‘bout to get the hell outta here. Let me call O right now, I thought to myself as I trotted down toward my apartment door. I dropped my travel wear, ran to the phone, and called O three times.

  One half hour later, I sat in my room looking around wondering if I was going to miss this place. I took note of all of my Chris Brown, Ne-Yo, and Omarion posters that told stories of my adolescent crushes. My sports trophies and badges that I coveted were neatly displayed on my dresser. I sat and reminisced on each until the phone rang interrupting my thoughts. It was LaTavia who began firing off threats the moment she recognized my voice.

  “Bitch, don’t let me see yo’ hoe ass in the streets! I hate you! You did this to me and my baby. Yo
u ruined our family! Well, you know what? Im’ma make sure that you don’t have a family! I hope you know how to knife fight, cuz Im’ma cut yo shit the fuck up when I see you! O told me that you were a good girl. Well if you was so much of a good girl, why he in jail now, bitch?”

  My knees buckled as her words of O’s incarceration seeped into my psyche. To say that I was caught off guard wouldn’t fully explain my disadvantage. I let her speak to buy time to collect myself and calm my irate breathing. It was all surreal.

  “Back up! I know you ain’t calling my house on no bullshit because my man wants me and not you. First of all, LaTavia, baby, if you could beat my ass you would have done so a long time ago when I was chosen number one, okay! Secondly, what do you mean O is locked up?”

  “Oh, you ain’t hear yet or you just playin’ dumb? Whatever the case may be, don’t let me see you!” Her slamming the phone in my ear caused a sharp pain in the back of my head. My heart started beating erratically and my mouth dried. O is in jail? For what? I questioned out loud.

  I tried texting my brother, but to no avail. I went into my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to think. I thought if O was in jail he would need to be bailed out. My thoughts immediately raced to pawning my jewelry, it had to be worth at least a grand or so, on the streets. I would get what I could and then try to get the rest from his boys. When I rose from the bed and reached for my jewelry box at first glance my heart stopped and over my heaving chest revelation hit. Samantha, my own mother, had stolen every bit of jewelry I had. I suddenly recalled finding her snooping in there the day before I left for North Carolina. At the time, I didn’t think more of it than I always did her increasingly bizarre behavior as of late. Tears began to form in the folds of my sockets but I held them back. Trying to calm my breathing, I recounted how O and I had gone over this a million and two times. I knew what to do in the event of him being arrested.