by Laine Watson
“It’s that sort of charter school over in Florence,” I explained.
“Oh…I do know what you’re talking about, but you’re not the type of girl to just...” Jack’s mom said, confused.
“Maybe.” I shrugged. I think I knew what she was about to say. I’m not the type of girl that would just do random stuff.
“How long were you over there?” she asked me.
“Like two years, I think.” I sighed again, heavily. “Then I lived with my grandma again, started going to college…”
“How old are you, Katie?” Jack’s mom asked, impressed, like she had forgotten.
“Seventeen,” I said.
“Jackie,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“Jack never went back to school. Not down in Washington Heights, not here. He just never went back,” she said, disappointed.
“What?” I asked.
“I wish he would have at least gotten his high school diploma. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off, continue,” she prompted, sitting back. I gulped. That was a lot to swallow.
“Um, yeah. I moved out of my gra’ma’s house. I started working at the bookstore. I have, like, two roommates. We live Harian Neighbors,” I told her.
“You live in Harian Neighbors?” Jack’s mom asked with surprise.
“Yeah.” I nodded. She shook her head at me.
“Like…cuz you guys have been, like friends for,” she started to think, tilting her head to the side. “Let me see…he started talking about you, like, late elementary— fourth, fifth grade.” She leaned closer to me, her face serious. “This is what you want?”
“Why…I mean, what?” I watched as she struggled to ask me a question that wouldn’t offend me and wouldn’t piss Jack off because she knew I would tell him.
“Jack…is Jack,” I told her. I paused. “Jack is the only happiness I have in my life… he’s always been the only good thing in my life.”
“Jackie?” she snickered, then went on, pity evident in her voice. “You must have a horrible life.”
“No, I don’t. Because I have Jack,” I said with conviction.
“You’re crazy.” She smiled. “I wish I coulda found me somebody to love me for no fucking reason. There is no reason you…you, of all people, should love Jack. Jack should love you all day…all fucking day,” his mother stated.
“He does,” I replied, quietly referring to something completely different. She was about to say something, but she looked at me.
Oh my gawd! Why would I say that!
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered in shame, covering my eyes.
“No, it’s fine.” She laughed. I gulped. I didn’t even want to look her in her eyes.
She leaned over closer to me and laid a gentle hand on my knee. I finally looked up at her.
She shook her head.
“I know my son.” She laughed. “So that means I know a little bit about you, too.”
“That’s not the reason I love him,” I told her.
“It never is.” She smiled and sat back. “So, you mean to tell me, you’re in college, you have a job, your own place, you’re out here on your own, and the people who you choose to spend your life with are Jackie and Trey?” she asked.
“Trey?” I asked, wondering why he was being included.
“I know your brother. I know he and Jackie are in the same boat,” she pointed out. I nodded, unable to deny that.
“But my brother is different. Jack has you. He’s always had you. Trey has had nobody,” I told her. “Just me, and I’ve had Trey. That’s how it’s been since we were kids. Our life has been back and forth, but we always end up back together.”
“Do you know how hard it was trying to even put food on the table for Jackie? His dad, nothing, like he didn’t know’im. His firstborn. That’s why we had to move from Florence to that joke of a town Washington Heights. We lost our house. Jack’s dad was no help. Wouldn’t even pick up the phone. What are you complaining about, Katie?” she asked.
I huffed a little. I gulped, so loud that it clouded my hearing, and I didn’t hear the front door open and shut.
“I don’t know my daddy, either,” I said angrily.
“My grandmother raised…nah, Jack raised me.” I paused.
“You see money, don’t you?”
“Money?” she asked.
“I mean, we, my family has, well, had money. You think money changes things? Makes you have a better life? I’d give every single penny if I coulda spent every single day with Jack. Cuz I don’t have any money like that. And when I did, it wasn’t even mine. All money has done for me is cause me problems,” I said, tears in my eyes.
“All Money do is cause you problems?” Jack asked, angrily slamming down some fast food on the counter. “All I do is cause you problems?” He grabbed me up by my arm and pushed me up against the white counters with their light wooden countertops.
“JACK!” His mother shouted.
I bowed my head as he squeezed my arm so tightly I thought blood would come out. It hurt so bad, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t cry. I didn’t want his mother thinking he was hurting me. She hadn’t said anything about the light bruises on my legs, or even if she had seen the ones on my arms.
“She was talking about money. Green paper. She didn’t say shit about you. Take your hands off’a her,” his mother said authoritatively.
Jack looked at me. I looked back at him humbly. He released my arm, leaving the deep red mark of his hand print on and around it, covering up the fading ones from a few days before.
“Jack…” his mother said, disgusted as she walked over to us.
“She’s fine, mom,” Jack said, clearly feeling like an ass.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, looking up to her shyly, with a smile as I held my arm. I quickly lowered my head and grabbed Jack’s hand She looked at me in disbelief, and then at Jack in the same manner.
“You don’t put your hands…” his mother tried to correct.
“She’s fine,” Jack claimed convincingly. He took his hand from me and placed it around my waist and led me to his room, leaving his mother and the fast food he brought for us in the kitchen. He shoved me gently inside of the room, and closed the door as I sat down on his bed. He knelt down on the floor in front of me. He tried to look into my eyes, but I kept them on ground.
“You hurt me,” I said softly.
“No, I didn’t,” he insisted, still trying.
“Yes, you did. Look,” I said, finally looking at him, and extending my arm in his direction.
“You just…” he paused. “Your skin’s too fucking soft. You got shit all over you.” He smirked.
“Jack, you can’t do that to me. Anymore,” I said.
“Do what?” he asked me.
“You can’t do this,” I told him, fanning my hand over the deep red hand print around my arm.
“What if Trey sees this?”
“Man, Trey cool,” Jack said. I looked into his eyes, and he into mine.
“I’m hungry,” I replied, giving him a small smile.
“I got us something to eat,” he said, standing up and leaving the room. He went into the kitchen, where his mother was seated at the table. Not looking at her, he picked up the food from the counter.
“Jackie,” his mother said out of disappointment. Jack’s shoulders lowered.
“What, ma?” he asked, turning to her. She stood up.
“You don’t put your hands on her,” she ordered.
“Mom, that has nothing to do with you,” Jack said.
“Jackie…” his mother tried to reason with him. “You’ve been doing real good. You haven’t been acting like this. Did you go to Drew’s? You been over in Florence? I asked you to stop hanging out with those guys. You and Dyl…”
“Ma?” Jack said, inadvertently telling her that he did.
“Jack, stay away from there,” his mother warned him.
“Ma, it was just
a little bit. I didn’t…”
“N-o-o Jackie, you promised. You said you were done.” She pointed a finger at him.
“Ma, it’s okay. I’m fine. I was just stressed out,” Jack claimed.
“You listen to me. If you’re stressed out, you go talk it out or something. You don’t put your hands on her. I don’t give a damn what you’ve done to anybody else. You don’t put your hands on her.” She asserted fiercely. “And you stay away from Drew’s. You tell Dyl, the same thing.” He leaned down to her.
“I said, that’s none of your business,” he snapped and turned around and walked back to his room.
She closed her eyes, hurting a bit. She took out a cigarette and lit it as she took a seat at the table again.
“What’d you get?” I asked him.
“Some tacos.” He smiled and knelt down in front of me. He opened the wrappers on my lap, and he fed me like I was a child. It was messy. He kept missing my mouth on purpose, eating what fell on me with his mouth, licking it up with his tongue. We laughed and ate, which made me forget about the bruising on my left arm.
“You like it?” he asked me.
“It’s good.” I smiled.
“You wanna watch a movie?” Jack asked me.
“Yeah.” I nodded. We left the tacos opened on the nightstand and laid back in the bed.
He turned the TV on, and we watched whatever movie that was on.
“Alright guys, I’m leaving,” Stephanie said, knocking on Jacks’ door.
“Okay,” Jack replied.
“Bye.” I smiled. She closed the door. The movie continued to play. It was a good movie,
I liked it until the scenes where girls were in the club and the guys were saying dirty things to them. They liked the things they said them, responding to it in a positive way.
I squirmed. I didn’t realize that my hand had left the comfort of Jack’s abs and traveled down to my vagina. The voices started, the faces, the memories of things that had been said to me came in my mind, and things they said seemed to paint themselves on my skin, covering whatever bruises that Jack had left. I moaned.
“Hot Rod…W-what’s wrong?” Jack asked, looking at me in concern. I couldn’t stop moving. I was on the verge of crying. I couldn’t get the feeling out of me. Jack had to do what only Jack could do.
“Uhm…” I whimpered, “Um…” Jack leaned over, looking at me, watching as I held my crotch.
“What happened to you?” he asked, studying me intensely.
“Uh….” I moaned, still trying to take the uncomfortable feelings inside of me away.
“Hot Rod, what happened? Did somebody rape you when you were at Dodges? When you were at your mom’s?” Jack asked, concerned.
“Mmh-mmh.” I shook my head. “Jack...” I whined, moving my hand from my vagina to his dick, “Please.” I sucked my teeth.
He studied me. I could see that he was confused, angry, wishing he could take away whatever it was, wishing he understood. I knew it was hard for him to want to have sex right then.
“I-I can’t. Talk to me. Something happened,” Jack prompted.
“No, Jack…please…” I whined.
“Hot Rod. I can’t…” he said. I bit my bottom lip. I stood up in the bed and took my underwear off and I got on my knees. He was going to have sex with me, one way or the other. He watched as I took his shorts off, then his boxers. He watched me place his manhood in my mouth. That, he couldn’t resist. The warm traveling of lips up and down his cock, the simple sensations of a fluttering tongue.
He grabbed me off his dick and plopped me right back on it. Out one hole into another. It hurt, having no pulmonary wetness. He just shoved it in there. I bit down on my teeth, it didn’t matter that it hurt going in. Once it was in, I just needed him to fuck me until I had an orgasm.
He still wasn’t in the mood. It hurt him a little; I could see it in his face. But, I didn’t know how to help me other than needing to have an orgasm from Jack. His dick erased all the bad…all of it. I closed my eyes when I began to climax, like it hurt. I was very quiet. I needed to feel my throbbing vagina around his penis. I needed to hear it. Yes, hear it. I felt myself release. I moaned in deep pleasure as I felt Jack’s hands on me, his penis inside of me. As I let go, I gulped, letting my breathing slow. I was okay again. I opened my eyes and my shoulders dropped.
“Hot Rod?” he asked. I slid off his dick and next to him on the bed, feeling shy for some reason.
He turned over to me.
“Hot Rod. What’s wrong with you?” He was looking at me, concern etched across his face. I pouted. I don’t pout. He had caught me off-guard.
“Jack…you don’t know how it was over at Dodges,” I told him. “Nobody liked me like you like me.”
“What?” he asked.
“Nobody never likes me like you like me,” I went on. “You were right. All they see is a bitch with big boobs. And then it got worse after I came back…”
“Hot Rod…” he didn’t know what to say.
“Do you know what guys say to me? They say, and not to themselves, but out loud to everyone, ‘Look at that big tittie bitch.’ If a guy approaches me, he doesn’t even look at me. And if I decline whatever he wants, he calls me bitch, hoe, slut,” I cried, “Every guy that I liked, liked someone else more than me. They couldn’t even see me. Or maybe they did, and I just wasn’t good enough. It doesn’t matter anyway. Anyone I ever dated or liked was because they reminded me of you. And all I have is some big ass titties. Those are my only redeeming quality.” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the top of my hand “Do you know what happened at the arcade, why you had to come fuck me?”
Jack was speechless, so I answered my own question.
“Because a buncha guys called me a bunch of stuff. They touched me, like guys always do. You can’t just play with a girl’s body like that, it’s not…” I paused so I wouldn’t cry anymore. “They grabbed my butt, teased me. That’s what guys do to me. I didn’t ask for all this.”
Jack looked at me and seemed to understand a little.
“I love you, Hot Rod. It doesn’t matter how anyone else feels. But baby…” he said, gulping.
“I already know what you’re gonna ask. ‘Why?’ Because Jack, I just need you when I feel like that. Just you…” I told him, still sniffling.
“You need me to fuck you? That’s what you need?” Jack asked for better clarification.
“Yes.” I replied quickly. “I know it sounds horrible but…yes.”
“I don’t know how to feel about that, really,” Jack said.
“It’s hard to explain,” I shrugged. “For so long, Jack, the only good thing in my life was that orgasm. And then, all of a sudden, you’re back. You’re the only thing in my life that’s good.”
“Hot Rod,” he was about to share his virginity story with me, but he decided not to. “You’re the only good thing in my life, too.”
I smiled.
“You don’t think I’m crazy?” I asked him.
“No, you’re way crazy with your throbbing vagina. But…I’m down to fuck you whenever you need me to.” Jack smiled.
“I’m sorry. I can’t change it,” I whimpered.
“That’s okay. There’s shit I can’t change, either,” Jack said thoughtfully.
I snuggled into him, and he into me. That was the hardest thing I ever had to tell Jack up to that point. Jack reached under his bed, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, and reached to the surface of the nightstand on his side of the bed, returning with a lighter. He lit his cigarette.
“Are you ever gonna stop?” I asked as he took a slow drag. He shrugged, blowing out the smoke and studying his cigarette. I swallowed.
“Are you ever gonna stop grabbing your pussy when you get scared?” He smiled at me.
“That’s not the same.” I giggled.
“Yes, it is. This calms me down. And my dick calms you down,” Jack said. I giggled again. Sometimes Jack’s logic was sound.
“Jack?” I peeped after some time.
“Yeah?” he asked. I lowered my eyes.
“When did you go to jail? What did you do?” I asked him. Jack sighed. He bent one of his arms and placed his hand under his head, and stared at the ceiling and back at me simultaneously.
“It was something stupid. Hot Rod, I was kinda fucked up when shit ended between us. I mean, every fucking body that means something to me fucking just disappears.” Jack sniffed. He waited a while before he said anything else. I watched him, “…I got fucking pulled over in my mom’s car, had some green on me. They threw my ass in jail.”
“Why didn’t you stop, then?” I asked.
“Stop what? Slanging?” He paused. “Cuz the shit got easier.” He sighed, “Yeah.” He laughed, reminiscing about something. “I was driving in Florence. My old neighborhood.” He glanced over at me.
“That’s where you guys lived before you moved to Washington Heights, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, man. My buddy Rook… shit, I hadn’t seen him since we moved. And who the fuck you think they put up in my cell?” he asked.
“They put him up in your cell?” I provided, guessing.
“Yeah…” Jack nodded. “It was crazy. He sorta was the reason I was even in Washington Heights. He over at Dodges, too.”
“Oh…” I said, masking things.
“But y’all probably wasn’t there at the same time,” he deduced. I said nothing, I let him keep talking. “I mean, I blamed him for so long. I guess I should say thank you.”
“For what?” I asked him.
“Well, we never would have moved to Washington Heights if I wouldn’t have burned down the house,” he explained.
“You burned down your house?” I asked him, shocked.
“Yeah.” Jack sighed heavily, “We got these lighters,” Jack said, showing me the silver lighter with the skeleton on the side, “we were eight. Rookie, stole’em from this liquor store,” Jack reminisced. “after I burned the house down, we had to stay in shelter for a little while, then we moved out to Washington Heights, that was the cheapest place to live.”
“Wow…” I said.
