“Wait for me right there sonny” the old man said. “I do believe that’s Cheryl Brown in the 1000 antiques. I do believe its been a thousand years since I’ve seen her.” The old man limped into the antique store. I stood outside on the corner as I waited on the old man to come back out side. I didn't know him I was just helping him carry some groceries to the bus. This shows you never know what is going to happen to you in life. I had planned on killing myself before five o'clock and here I was standing in front of a store that looked a thousand years old waiting on a man I didn’t even know. Oh well it didn’t matter anyway. I was going to off myself one way or the other before the end of the day. I guess some of it had to do with money. I was poor and could barely pay rent I had a job but it wasn't going to take me anywhere. I was a telemarketing agent for a soap company a very small unknown soap company that paid seven dollars an hour without any benefits. I couldn't afford a car so I walked almost everywhere or used the city bus transit. It wasn't all that bad I guess. I wasn't homeless, yet. I was a little bit more fortunate than others. The real cause of the matter was it was all about a girl. I was falling deeply in love with her. She had feelings for me also but only as a friend. Yet I was determined, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever gazed upon. It was a sunny day when she told me the bad news, I'll never forget it. “Ryan, I am a lesbian I don't like men.”
I just knew she was joking with me, but she hadn't been she was a lesbian and I had failed to see it. I didn't have a problem with her sexuality. It's just we went out on dates, a lot of dates. I felt used she never mentioned once she wasn't into guys, she played the part so well like she liked me back, even gave me kisses good night. I knew she was a virgin she had told me that’s why I never pushed that issue she was waiting for the right man. Me, so I thought. The day she died I was at home trying to finish a novel I had been writing for five years. It was my first and things weren't going the way I imagined them to. I thought I would finish it in a year and be published by Dell or Simon and Schuster and make the big bucks. Wishful thinking but that's just not the way it works and I knew if I didn't finish it soon I would think of myself as a failure. Writing was all I ever really wanted to do. Time was slipping away though.
“Ryan open up.”
It was Brittany I opened up the door and she came in, before I could say anything she silenced me with:
“I love you Ryan and I want to make this work. I've been lying to myself all this time. My mother turned lesbian after being beat by my father for who knows how long she swore to never trust another man and I thought it right to follow in her footsteps. Since I was ten that's all I ever saw my mother with were women and when I saw her kiss the women she told me it was alright and that I should like women also. I've been telling myself I like women all my life when I never really did I've really only had one girlfriend which it was cool but I always loved you that's why I wanted to spend so much time with you. I was confused though because I really thought I was a lesbian and if I was I wasn't supposed to like men. But I do like you, I love you.”
My face lit up. Dreams can come true! We were supposed to go out that night she wanted me to make love to her for the first time. Things were starting to look up. I felt I could do anything. I could finish that novel after all and begin on my second one who knows what good things can happen. Look out world here comes Ryan!
I saw the yellow police tape first and I knew something was wrong. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Brittany's number but she didn't answer. It wasn't until I got up close that I heard someone say Brittany's name. Shot, shot by her own mother. Sitting there thinking about it bag in hand watching the pedestrians, it really hurt. What kept replaying in my mind was Brittany coming home telling her mother she decided to love a man and that ended her life but why shoot her? Why kill her own daughter? It was ultimately my fault. I couldn't live with that. I could hear some rap music blaring from an old school Impala on what looked like 24 inch rims. I didn’t understand a word of it but I bobbed my head to the music nonetheless. Now what happened next really happened. I wasn't geeked out or anything. I was good. No drugs in my system. This little girl appears out of nowhere dressed in this old ball room style dress. The scary thing was she had on what looked like a Halloween mask. Dora the Explorer. I had been seeing that little bitch everywhere. Now here she stood. Que onda cabron? Ella dijo. Que esta pasando para aca? I did not understand Spanish at all but little Dora was really determined to have a conversation with me. She continued speaking in Spanish for a couple minutes. I just leaned on the wall of the 1000 antiques and ignored her as best as I could. I was getting tired of the little Dora chick. I didn't like the tone of her voice. No, not at all. The fact that the mask covered her face and muffled her voice. I could only see her eyes. They were a beautiful violet but I didn't let that fool me. There was no telling what else was under that mask. Puedo ver cosas que pasara en el futuro. Como usted cabron va tratar a quitar la vida. I started inching away from the 1000 antiques. I'll be a mother fucker the little Dora chick was following me. I started walking. She walked even faster still speaking that shit.
“Leave me alone!” I yelled. “I don't know you. I don't even understand you. Go home. You. (I made a shooing gesture) casa-casa-you-go.”
She started speaking to me really fast then screamed at me.
“Shut up bitch!” I started running, running faster than the wind, faster than I did back in my track days. I looked over my shoulder there she was still there. I kept running, I looked over my shoulder a second time. Her feet did not move but she was gaining on me. Son of a bitch! I had to be smoking something, or else I was asleep. Yes this was a dream. Voy a machetear tu dick! I didn't understand the other shit she said but I didn't have to, dick came out sounding like deek. Machetear sounded like machete those are two horrible combinations. I was so astonished to hear dick that I turned around for a third time. The little girl was still on my ass, running, gliding making this chopping gesture every step I made. I bore down the unknown street. Id left main behind and the street signs were zipping by so fast I couldn't make out what any of them said. I crossed the street dodging a Dodge and went barreling into a group of teenage girls as I long jumped the remainder of the street onto the sidewalk on the opposite side that I had been on. One of the teenage girls hit the ground hard like a small baby just learning how to walk and how they would plop down on their pampers, splat! In a sitting position. Another one went sprawling to the ground belly first. I felt bad about it but didn't have time to say sorry. I dashed through a black couple holding hands and smiling. I heard the male yell sorry motherfu- BEEEEEEEPPPP!!!!!! A car to my right almost plowed into me, it came to a stop. I slid over the hood, what looked like a rather clean and expensive hood. I didn't dare chance a look behind me. I knew the little spook was still there on my ass. I could hear her and feel her as well. It was a hell of a day to have eaten leftover chili for breakfast and it was boiling in my stomach. I finally saw something that looked familiar to me. It was Madea's Soul Food on the corner of 7th and Woodrow. I was pouring it on now. Sweat was rolling down my body in beads. My shirt and jeans were soaked. They had become heavy on my body but that didn't slow me at the least. I was only about three blocks from home. If I could make it-
Te voy a matar cabron! Te voy a matar!
Holy crap! How long would this go on? Would I really be safe when I got home? Was this some ghost? Or just a little girl amped up on Red Bull?
It didn't take me long to burn up three blocks how I was haul
ing ass. Out of all the times that I can remember the three or four little girls that stayed next door to me always played in their yard. Or out in the street. Today out of all the days they were on my front porch. When they saw me approaching they were all smiles.
“Hi neighbor the smallest one said. Can I have a hug?” I stiff armed her and kept going like I never slowed. As I came running up the stairs to my porch the two oldest girls with the jump rope came bounding down. There was no way in hell I could have stopped. I don't think I would have. Reflex kicked in and I went to jump over the rope between the sisters. But their