The First Time I Got Caught Not Fucking

You asked for it so here it is... another installment of "Khaki's Hoodrat Teenage Years".

It was my birthday- March 22, 2000- and I had just turned 14 (OMG - I DID NOT REALIZE I WAS THAT YOUNG. THIS IS GONG TO MAKE THE STORY EVEN HOODRATTIER). I was in love with Eyes- the 17 year old, green eyed Nelly look-alike that lived around the corner in a group home (thugs were in, OK?)- and like every other weeknight, he had called and told me that he was coming by to give me my birthday presents. My parents both worked late night shifts and my little brother and I were left in the house until midnight or later almost every night which gave me the opportunity to play grown up when I barely had pubes.

It was early evening when Eyes knocked on my door smelling of Pussy* roll-on oil (smh) with his doo-rag tied around his cornrows and a We R One tee shirt covering up his teenage muscles and jailhouse tattoos. sidebar: We R One was some dope boy brand that the corner boys wore to show they had a little change in their pockets. There are still some - including crackheads - that still rock it because they saw Marlo wear it on The Wire. It was wack as shit then and still wack to this day.

Anyway, my little teenage stomach had butterflies in it as he handed me a bunch of helium balloons that had happy birthday written on them. 1st thought... awwwww, I cant wait to suck :blank stare: the helium out of them and tape them on my wall next to my RightOn pictures. 2nd thought... Fuck! Where am I going to hide balloons in my house so that my mom doesn't see them??? I took the balloons from him and opened the Shoe City bag that had a pair of all white Air Force One's in them and acted like the young child that I was. .

Back then, you were the shit if you had a boyfriend that bought you anything besides penny candy and huggie juices. A pair of Jordans almost guarenteed some knob slobbing and the going rate for teenage virginity was 50.00 worth of any all-white sneaker (K-Swiss, AF1's, Reebok Classics, 54.11's etc) or 2 fullsets of acrylics and a white teddy bear from Rite Aid. Nike was pretty much for cause of any teenage pregnancy circa 1999-2003. I don't make the rules.

Back to what I was saying- We went upstairs and went into my brothers room so that Eyes could get a round of Tekken (or was it Mortal Combat?) in with him. They played the game for a few minutes or so before he got up and said "alright yo- let me go in here and holla at Khak for a little bit".

We had a ritual. I'd turn on my Gateway PC , put on our mix CD and turn on the bubble screen saver that left my room dark with just a little light- Can you say teenage romance?!?!? . (i hate that i tell you guys so much).

Making out and dry humping like two horny teenagers in heat, i heard a knock on my door.

Yeah?

My brother slightly whispers, "open the door".

I get up and open the door and my brother tells me what no young girl wants to hear when she has a almost-grown man in her room with womb juice on his fingers:

"daddy's home"

Lightening strikes. Rockets blasts off. A midget tumbled from the moon and the Great Wall of China fell down as the pit of my soul plummeted to the soles of my feet. Of course, I didn't want to believe him but something told me that my 12 year old brother wasn't lying.

Eyes hops up and I hear him say "Oh Shit! I thought he was at work!".

"Me too. Where is he?" I ask my brother who is standing there looking at me with sympathy- or guilt- in his eyes.

"Downstairs but..." my brother starts as he is interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Ay Jr- I'm going in the back building (my dad's art studio). Call if you need me." I heard my father yell up the steps.

Bingo! Now was the time to get Eyes out of the house before my father came back in. Heart racing, I came up with a plan that I was sure was going to work. I would look out my back window and when I saw my father go in to his studio, I would have Eyes run out the front door. I tell my brother to look out the window and he shits on my whole plan.

Laughing my brother says "Khak, it's a setup. I'm telling you. He know Eyes is up here. Don't go down there."

"Well, how does he know that he's up here? Did he come up here?" I'm asking my brother with tears in my eyes. I feel like my heart is going to explode. I wasn't doing anything but I shouldn't have had a guy in the house. My father was an ex-karate champion and was scarier than BeBop. He always made threats to beat up any man that "came near his daughter" so i was even more afraid of what he was going to do to Eyes. Thug or not- Eyes didn't have shit on my dad.

My brother shrugged letting me know that he didn't know.

"Alright- plan 2." I took a deep breath "Eyes, you go to the bathroom window and climb out... run down a few houses and hop off someones roof when you're far enough down the block". I was confident in this plan. Seemed fool-proof and I was going to even go the extra mile "I'm going to go downstairs and feed the cat on the porch to distract daddy just in case this is a set up".

My brother shook his head and went to his room while Eyes went to the bathroom and I walked down the steps. I grabbed the cat food from the kitchen cabinet and walked outside to the porch (yeah, we had a hood cat).

"Jaaazzzz" I called out for our tailless cat as I looked around for any signs of samurai daddy.

My cat runs up and I pour the food into the bowl. As I turn around to walk back into the house, I hear my fathers deep voice ask "What are you doing?". SHIT! He was leaning against the neighbors porch and had been watching the whole time.

"Feeding the cat" I reply inching back to the door just in case he caught a flashback of his old days spin kicking his competition into comas.

"Oh, OK. Who's in the house?"

"Jr" I respond as I'm contemplating running through the alley with no shoes and socks on and never coming back.

"Oh, OK" he walks into the house and goes upstairs and I follow him.

He walks past my brothers room and the bathroom to my room. Turns on the light and scans my purple room for his thugged out prey. Even I can smell the scent of a man and Im hoping that he can't. He looks under the bed- nothing. Checks the closet. Nothing. I'm looking at him like he has two fucking heads. He walks into my brothers room and my brother is sitting there with this stupidest grin I have ever seen in my life. Nothing.

"Khaki, you're my baby girl and..." he starts then turns to the left to the bathroom. The door is closed but the light is on. Eyes was cute but had no uncommon or common sense.

My father slightly runs to the door, busts open the bathroom door and who's standing there still trying to open the window??

Ding, ding, ding! EYES! Ole Dumbass Group Home Eyes!!!

I could see the fear in his green eyes and saw that he probably wanted to run but the tension was so damn thick in the room that all you could do was stand there.

"Come here, young man. I need to talk to you" my unusually calm father requests Eyes to follow him down the steps.

I begin to follow but he tells me that "this is mans business" and that I am not needed.

I walk to my brothers room and he looks at me, shakes his head and says "Daddy gonna kill that man.".

I felt bad now. Eyes was going to be killed because of me and he didnt even get any. I strained to hear what was being said and I heard nothing which scared me even more. Was my father chopping him up into little pieces to feed bits of little thug to the neighborhood rats? If he did, what the hell was he going to do to me next? I prayed and hoped he wouldn't whip my ass in front of my boyfriend. I'd rather he punish me to 12 years of hard labor before he pulled out his studded belt and Joe Jacksoned me in front of the guy that had my 14 year old panty pudding all over his pointer.

My brother interrupted my thoughts of torture and said "Yall should've just listened to me. He knew because i told him when he got home".

Muthafuck! I always thought that my brother was down for me and Eyes. Him and Eyes were like brothers and I couldn't believe he was the key player in this whole set-up. I promised myself I was going to get him back for this ultimate sibling betrayal and I did.

After what seemed like hours , my dad called out for me "Khaki! Come here".

I took my time going downstairs and asked "Yes, daddy?" as I looked around for any sign of Eyes or his remains

"Go wash the dishes." He instructed calmly as he sat on his stool painting.

I walked in the kitchen with a puzzled look on my face and washed the dishes. Looking back every 4 seconds, I thanked the Lord for my birthday present- life.

so, yeah, i had some crazy pics to post to go witht his but im annoyed with blogger and... oh well.

Aches

I fucking head aches. My mouth aches. My jaws ache (and not even for a good reason) and my spirit aches.

Last night, I came home, changed into my house clothes and began cooking just like every other night. While texting Crack, I finished up cooking a large pot of spaghetti with wheat noodles. Just like every other night, I grabbed two plastic containers out of my cabinet and filled them up with dinner for the same two people, Ms. Gloria and Shelton. Just like every night, I put the kid in the car and walked up one building to 3605, knocked on unit B. No answer. Knock again... Ms. Gloria's niece, Sharon opened the door, looking like she just had the best high she's ever had in her life.

Me: Hello, is Ms. Gloria around?
Her: No, she went to the hospital this morning.
Me: Oh, OK. Is she alright?
Her: I don't know. She was having a heart attack and the ambulamps [ambulance] took her to the hospital.
Me: OK- do you know what hospital she went to?
Her: No. Probably Good Samaritan or Union Memorial

She closes the door and I'm just standing there confused... shocked... hurt. I'm reminded of November 7th when my father passed away from a heart attack just a few blocks away from here. I remembered walking into Union Memorial almost 3 years ago knowing that I would have to identify my fathers body. Something told me that something wasnt right and I would never see Ms. Gloria again.

I made up my mind to check on her this morning after I came back from the dentist. After leaving the dentist with 2 less wisdom teeth, I stopped home to get my credit card and saw a few neighbors standing outside near 3605. One of the women called out to me. I can never remember her name i just always know her as the woman with no edges. I walk over and she tells me that Ms. Gloria died yesterday morning from a heart attack.

The rest of my body matched the numbness of my jaw as I walked back to my car and cried. I didn't know anything about this woman that I cooked for every night for the last month or so. I met her when my property manager and I was doing walk-throughs for the contractors. I had heard that an elderly woman lived in the basement unit of 3605 and didn't have any family to look out for her except for a niece who, apparently, had a very bad drug habit.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a long nightgown and had her grey hair pulled into a bun. We went to her kitchen to measure cabinets and she didn't have anything but a few canned vegetables and juice. From that day on, I always knocked on her door and gave her a plastic container of whatever I cooked that night. She always said "thank you, missy." as she handed me the cleaned container from the night before.

Today I found out more about the 72 year old woman who loved my baked fish and told me that adding Old Bay to my greens would make them taste better. I was told by another long-term resident that Ms. Gloria was a widow. Her husband and only child died in a car accident in 1974. She had one sister who passed in 1980. She was a college graduate, a teacher, she always paid her rent on time and had no known family other than her niece.

Even though i didn't know her that well, I still felt a connection to this woman. I know that she is in a better place with better company so the ache in my heart is gone. Now the two holes in the back of my mouth... that's another story.