by Omar Tyree
Carl didn’t see her at first. Tracy then shouted onto the stage, making her way through the crowds, “CARL!”
Carl looked down at her from the stage platform, and then back out into the crowds. Tracy waited patiently, deciding to sit on a nearby chair. She knew that he would eventually come to her.
Twenty minutes went by, and Carl still had not spoken to her.
“Ay pretty, you here by yourself?” a short fellow wearing glasses asked. He looked as if his last name was Peabody.
“No, I’m here with my boyfriend,” Tracy answered, looking away. She was dressed like a bunch of the New York students, wearing a colorful rayon shirt, extra large jeans, an oversized belt, brown suede boots and twisted hair. Lisa and Joanne were from New York, too.
“Well, where is he?” the short fellow asked her.
“On the stage.”
He looked up at the DJ table. “Oh, which one? Carl?”
“Yeah, and why you say it like that?”
“Oh, no reason. I just didn’t know you were talkin’ to him, that’s all.” Mr. Peabody backed off.
“So what are you doing here?” Carl finally came and asked Tracy.
“Oh, I can’t come to see you?” she responded to him.
“For what? I have another girlfriend in here now.”
Disturbed, Tracy snapped, “Well if you got another girl that fast, then you must wasn’t serious about me, and you musta’ been talkin’ to her all along, and you think I’m stupid but I’m not.” She jumped up to leave, embarrassed and angry, and her plan to spend the night with him was shattered.
“Come here!” Carl demanded.
“For what?” Tracy stopped and asked.
“All right, forget it then.”
Tracy thought about it, hoping that he was only teasing about having another girlfriend to make her jealous. She then walked around to go up onto the stage with him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Tracy shouted, “COME HERE, CARL!” making a scene in front of plenty of college students.
Who the hell is she? students were asking themselves. Tracy was not a familiar face to them.
Carl could not deny her after her outrage. He followed her off of the stage and said, “You know what, Tracy? You’re really getting on my nerves. I’m starting to wish I’d never met you.”
“Well, tell me what you had to say then,” she asked with sparkling hazels from the multi-colored party lights.
Her highly attractive presence soothed Carl, and he was suddenly filled with an urgent desire to make love to her. “I was gonna tell you that I was lying,” he said.
“You were?”
“Yeah,” Carl assured her, reaching out to hold her arms. “Who did you come here with tonight?” he asked more pleasantly.
“Me, myself and my bag.”
Carl looked down at her bag. “What’s all in there?”
“Clothing and stuff.”
“Where are you going?”
Tracy paused. “To spend the night with you.”
The words got stuck and lost in Carl’s throat. He nodded, agreeably, waiting excitedly for the party’s end.
Three o’clock came, and it was time to wrap up the party. The bright gymnasium lights were clicked on, and Carl’s group packed up their stuff and loaded it onto a truck. There was an after-party being held at one of the dorms, but Carl had other plans. He turned down the offer to accompany his friends and walked Tracy’s sleepy head back to his room. Tracy had already told Lisa that she would be staying with Carl, so they didn’t wait up for her.
Once they arrived at his dorm room, Tracy fell face first into Carl’s neatly made bed. Carl sat down beside her and began to rub her back. He then lit incense, turned off the lights and lit a candle.
“Carl?” Tracy said, face still pressed into his pillow.
“What?” Carl asked quietly, leaning over into her ear.
“Can you take my clothes off?”
Carl could not believe his ears. He obliged.
“Oh, that feels so good, Carl,” she moaned, as he rubbed her bare back down to her waistline after taking off her shirt and bra. He then tugged off her oversized jeans. When he finished with that, Tracy turned over to face him.
Carl said with a hard-on and a smile, “Damn, you’re turning me on, girl!”
“Shet up and take your clothes off,” Tracy retorted with a smirk.
Carl did. He then began to lick down Tracy’s neck, around to her shoulders and down to her breasts. Tracy grabbed his head and squeezed him into them, aroused. Carl licked down to her stomach, and Tracy wondered how far he was going to go with it. She could feel him moving farther down with his tongue, and it was too good of a feeling to stop him.
The room disappeared. Uncontested sensations exploded throughout Tracy’s unexplored body. She tried to move away to lessen the excitement, but Carl pursued as her eyes squeezed shut, tearing in ecstasy.
Tracy began to shake, grabbing the sheets to keep from screaming. Mouth wide open with her fingers massaging Carl’s massive shoulders, she finally managed to relax. And when Carl had pulled away from her, every muscle in her body tingled and fell limp across his twin-sized bed. Tracy was left too exhausted to move.
Tracy could not take her mind off of her experience with Carl. She sat at her desk in school Monday, thinking about marriage and children. She thought she was in love. Carl had done things with her that she never thought would happen. He had even outdone Victor.
Tracy began to write out his name, Carl Thompson, over and over again inside of her notebook, and he was on her mind every hour of the day. He was her newfound treasure.
“Ay Ra-Ra? Where you been?” Tracy asked, catching her neighbor walking in from school.
Raheema entered Tracy’s house to chat. Tracy quickly shut the door and rubbed her hands together to warm them. It was blistering cold outside, Atlantic Coast winter weather.
“Damn it’s cold out there!” Tracy exclaimed, looking at Raheema’s thick yellow coat. Her acne had gotten worse. “So where you been at, girl?” Tracy repeated.
“I’m in a glee club at this church, and we’ve been working on songs to sing on Sundays,” Raheema answered her.
Tracy frowned. “Glee club and church? Since when did you get involved in that?”
“My mother thought it was a good idea.”
“Well, are you happy now?” Tracy thought that she was definitely happy with Carl Thompson.
Raheema answered, “No, but it’s good to be involved in something.” She laughed, fighting off depression.
Tracy could tell that her neighbor was feeling miserable. “Look on the bright side, at least you have a good head on your shoulders. You’re heading for college soon,” she comforted, smiling to cheer her up.
“Yeah, yeah, everybody’s always saying that, but boys aren’t attracted to the books. They’re more attracted to good looks and fat asses.”
“Look, girl, we’re only sixteen. We got a whole lot of time,” Tracy snapped at her. “Your damn face ain’t gon’ stay like that forever. And all boys aren’t into ‘fat asses.’ ”
“Yeah, right,” Raheema retorted with a grin. The acne scars distorted her smile.
Damn, she’s catching a bad break, Tracy told herself. I’m glad myface ain’t breaking out like that.
Raheema sighed and said, “Look, Tracy, you were always the one who went after things, and your mother and father allowed you a chance to grow and be strong. Plus, you’re pretty, and you know how to talk to boys and stuff and that’s the kind of girls that they like.”
“Well, you’ll be pretty again, Ra-Ra. This is just a phase you’re going through.”
Raheema ignored her and said, “My father been haunting me since birth. And I don’t even know how to act with guys, Tracy.”
Tracy continued to listen as her neighbor went on:
“See, that’s why if I have a daughter, I’m gonna let her be herself and just give her guidelines
to follow, instead of trying to rule her life.”
Tracy asked, out of curiosity, “What if you have a son?”
Raheema shrugged. “I’ll do the same thing with him.”
“Would you want your son to turn out like Bruce? You didn’t like him.” Tracy figured that Bruce was good enough for Raheema. You should have stayed with him, she wanted to tell her. But of course, she couldn’t say it after having her own relations with Bruce.
“I did so like him, but that’s when I was still running away from my sister’s lifestyle. I didn’t treat Bruce well.”
I didn’t either, Tracy pondered. Poor Bruce. “Well, what do you think about Carmen?” she quizzed.
“Oh, now she’s a whore. I wouldn’t want my daughter to be anything like her.”
“What kind of husband do you want to have?”
Raheema smiled. “One like your father.”
Tracy smiled back and said, “Me too.” And I think I already found him, she thought. She didn’t want to make Raheema jealous, so she kept her excitement about Carl to herself.
growing up
“Well, Carl, what are we going to do tonight?” Tracy asked. She was stretched out on Carl’s bed inside of his dorm room.
“First, I have to take you home, and then I have to study for this upcoming test,” Carl told her from his desk. He closed his book and stood up to leave.
“How come you all strapped into your grades, all of a sudden?”
“Look, would you get off the bed and come on.”
“Oh, you don’t want me down here or somethin’?”
“I didn’t tell you to come down here anyway. I mean, you’re just getting to the point now where you’re inviting yourself.” Carl opened his door.
“Okay then, since you have to study so much.” Tracy jumped up from his bed and snatched her bag from off the floor. Not a word was spoken on their City Line Avenue ride toward her Germantown home. It was February, a new semester of college for Carl and the second half of Tracy’s junior year of high school. She hadn’t been able to spend a good deal of time with him since Christmas. It wasn’t her fault that he was on academic probation. Or was it? Tracy had been occupying a lot of his time, but so was football and DJing. Carl simply had his marbles in too many different jars.
“All right, I’ll call you when I get in,” he said. He had double-parked his small Nova out in front of Tracy’s house.
“Oh, you not even gonna walk me to my door, hunh?” she huffed at him.
Carl looked at her as if it pained him. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, getting out to open her side. Just as he did, Victor Hinson and four of his rough-looking friends approached them from the corner.
“YO, TRACY! COME HERE!” he hollered, drunkenly. He was staggering from side to side as he walked, obviously filled to the rim with alcohol.
Tracy didn’t know what to do. Oh my God, he’s doing this shit again, she reflected, remembering when Victor had intervened to save her from Timmy. “What do you want?” she asked him, nervously.
“Fuck you mean, ‘What I want?’ I said to come here. NOW!”
Tracy, noticing his drunken condition, tried to laugh it off. “You had a little too much to drink,” she told him.
Carl walked behind her cautiously. He was aware that Victor’s friends would intervene if he was to try anything bold and courageous. And they didn’t look like the types to allow any Action Jackson stunts to go down.
Victor said, “Oh, okay. You gon’ get new on me now, since you got this muscle-headed pussy with you, right?” He walked up on Tracy’s sidewalk with his friends laughing in the background.
Tracy held in her own laugh. Carl did have a massive-sized head.
Carl turned and looked Victor in the face, as if he wanted to hurt him for embarrassing him.
“Yeah, what ’chew want? We got the whole fuckin’ street,” Victor responded to Carl’s glare. “I’ll break your punk ass up!” he shouted, heading out into the middle of the street.
Victor took off his jacket and sweatshirt as Tracy watched, astonished and tickled brown. Victor was still black and beautiful in his own muscular frame. His gold link-chain and small V around his neck, glittered from the night lights along with the gold-nugget bracelet on his right wrist. “Come on, punk,” he insisted, challenging Carl. “Come the fuck on out here.”
Carl was contemplating about his friends.
“Ay Vic, stop that shit, man,” one of his friends said, still chuckling. “Come on, cuz’. Put your shirt back on, you gon’ catch a damn cold out here.”
“Naw. FUCK ’DAT!” Victor hollered, staggering.
His crew continued to laugh.
Victor then kicked Carl’s car. BOOM! “Now what, pussy? I wouldn’t let you kick my muthafuckin’ car. I’d put my foot in ya’ ass, if it was my car. But I guess this piece of shit you drivin’ don’t mean much.”
Victor’s friends pleaded, seriously, “Vic, man, you drunk. You gon’ have neighbors comin’ out here, man.”
Carl gritted his teeth, not budging, but he was starting to get worried. And Tracy’s father was not in from work yet. If this guy kicks my car again, I’m gonna have to fight all of them, Carl mused.
Victor put his Adidas sweatshirt and winter ski jacket back on with his black Sergio jeans and Timberland boots. He had a fresh haircut to boot. Victor was the shit, even when he was drunk.
“Yeah, aw’ight,” he said, straightening out his clothes. “That’s my young-girl you dealin’ wit’, boah’. You treat her wrong, and I’m gon’ break you the fuck up. Aw’ight, boah’?” he asked Carl.
Carl stared as if he wanted to hurt Victor. They were both about the same height, but Carl was thirty pounds heavier. Nevertheless, Victor was older and much more intimidating.
“You hear me talkin’ to you, cuz’?” he asked, as he walked closer to them.
Carl and Tracy had not moved from the sidewalk since Victor started putting on his scene.
“Ay Vic, leave him alone, man. Dude don’t want shit,” his friend said, ushering Victor down the street.
“Fuck off of me, man! I can walk. And I know that big-head pussy don’t want shit.” They headed down Tracy’s block, with Victor leading his friends. He then yelled, “PUNK!”
“Who was that?” Carl asked Tracy as they left.
Tracy lied. “Oh, that’s just some guy that wanted to talk to me a while ago.” She was surprisingly excited about the event. Victor was ready to fight for me, she thought.
Carl said, “That boy has a big mouth. I hate guys like that.” He headed to his car and said, “I’ll call you when I get in.”
“Jantel! Guess what?” Tracy quizzed, jumping on the telephone as soon as she got inside.
“Okay, what Carl do now?”
“Nothing. It was Victor,” Tracy told her.
“Victor? What about ’im?”
“He was ready to fight Carl over me.”
“Get out of here! Victor?”
“Yeah. And he said I was his young-girl.”
“For real!” Jantel shouted, getting excited herself. She then calmed herself down, starting to think for the both of them. “Yeah, but Victor still a damn dog. That boy done had more girls than I had track meets.”
Tracy laughed and said, “I know.” But she still could not help thinking about him. She added, all in a hurry, “I wonder if he gon’ stop by and see me tomorrow. I wonder what he wanted. He might of asked me to come over to see him.”
Jantel butted in and said, “No, girl. I can see it now. You gon’ end up being his little plaything again.” She was surprised she said it. Jantel always thought that way about Tracy and Victor, but she had never said it. She was slightly afraid of Tracy.
“WHAT?” Tracy fumed.
“I ain’t mean it like that, Tracy. I just meant that Victor’s just a dog, and that’s all that he be wantin’.”
“No. You ain’t mean it like that. You callin’ me a whore.”
“No I’m not,
Tracy. For real.”
“Yes the fuck you are!” Tracy responded acidly, hanging up on her friend. She sat there in her room in a state of turmoil. She’s right, she told herself. I am still fuckin’ hooked on him. She was disappointed with herself for still liking Victor. Carl had become a drag like all her other previous boyfriends. Only Victor remained exciting for her. Yet he was the ultimate dog.
What the hell is wrong with me? she asked herself. She decided to push the thought of Victor out of her mind. I’m not gonna be nobody’swhore, she insisted.
Tracy began to watch more television in Carl’s busy absence. She even started taping shows when she knew that she would miss them. And every effort to stop from watching them and find something more constructive to do, only made her anxious to find out what she had missed. Tracy was a television junkie.
The glamour on television became the only perfect world. Adventures of Dynasty, Knots Landing, Falcon Crest and other network shows and movies of non-black people occupied a good portion of Tracy’s imagination. She began to long for her own riches, imagining herself hosting large, elegant parties where handsome bachelors drooled over her and catered to her every desire.
“TRACY! GET UP OUT OF THAT BED, GIRL! Do you know what time it is?” Patti shouted, waking Tracy from dreamland. It was Thursday morning, and a school day.
“Hunh?” Tracy responded sleepily, tossing the pillow over her head to drown out her mother’s screaming.
Patti yanked the pillow from her and turned the light on. “Girl, I’m sick and tired of you getting these damn late slips and detentions. Now get up, I said! What is wrong with you?”
“Nothin’, mom.”
Patti wore her white work coat, with a new wrap hairdo, looking good and young. “Are you pregnant or something?” she asked her daughter. Tracy had been at a loss of energy for weeks.
“No, I’m not pregnant,” Tracy answered her with a frown.
“Well, what’s your problem? All you’ve been doing is lying around watching those damn shows, with this nappy-ass hair of yours!”
“It’s natural,” Tracy retorted with a grin.
Patti had not said anything to her about the twisted-up hairstyle since Tracy had started wearing it. She figured it was a stage that her daughter was going through. But it was getting close to springtime, and Patti felt that Tracy would not be able to straighten her hair out in time to apply for a summer job.
