Write In The Middle Of It

Still sobbing, Mekayla flung open the door the door to her loft letting it bang up her amber painted wall. Unaware she left the door open, she quickly shuffled to her computer desk, took out the drawer, and flipped it over on top of the desk. There taped to the underside of the drawer was her emergency stash of green. She furiously wiped at the tears dropping from her face as she delicately removed the small baggie from the drawer. She then went into her bathroom and found a package of rolling papers in the basket of towels. She walked back into the living room, got a book off of her bookshelf and took everything to the pillow area. As if on cue, Mekayla instantly stopped crying, because she knew being upset would fuck up her rolling pattern. She managed to roll three perfect joints that she left on the top of the book as she pondered her situation.

In her own definition of infidelity, Mekayla had just cheated on her boyfriend.

Whenever something bad happened to Mekayla, it's her first instinct to call Kevin, but she couldn't do that now. Left over tears flowed from her eyes as she lit the first joint and hit it hard.

No matter how wonderful Kevin seemed, there was no way she could tell him this.

She couldn't tell Erik either.

Erik already hated Brett and would probably try to kill him on sight and make her watch.

Mekayla hit the joint again and wondered why she didn't have any female friends.

It's not that she wasn't sociable, but females worked her nerves. Most females she came in contact with were from the poetry scene and to be honest most of them hated on her.

Some of them just used her to get close to Erik.

The rest of them were co-dependent idiots.

The only woman she seemed to get a long with was Autumn, her supervisor at the after- school program.

Autumn was a fifty something white lady with very liberal views on life. She was very eccentric, wore great clothes, and antique jewelry. She even shared a joint with Mekayla one night after the two of them pulled an all-nighter at the center trying to figure out the up and coming year's curriculum. But Mekayla didn't socialize with Autumn outside of work so she didn't have her number.

At the end of the first joint, she made a promise to herself to make some female friends.

Her family was a waste of time as well. She loved them all but Mekayla was never really close to her two sisters. Her older sister Madeline was fair like their mother, and Mekayla always assumed she was ashamed of being bi -racial.

Madeline never dated black men and never understood why Mekayla did considering their father died when they were young.

Her younger sister Monica was a lost cause. She now had three children by three different men and was somewhere in the city on welfare. Monica only called Mekayla when she needed money for the rent or for diapers for her nieces and nephew.

Mekayla helped her of course but to go to either one of her sisters for advice was pointless. Her mother, Adrienne, never dated again once her father Michael died.

Adrienne didn't understand the long -distance relationship and told Mekayla that on several occasions. She said with so many men, so close to her, she didn’t understand why she would inconvenience herself like that.

Mekayla never brought Kevin up to her mother again.

With no aunts or suitable feminine role modeled in her life, Mekayla was forced to deal with matters of the heart on her own.

When she lit the second joint she noticed that her front door was open so she wearily walked over to shut it. She then walked over to the fridge and pulled out a big bottle of water to relieve the cottonmouth she was expecting. She then made her way over to the pillows and sunk into them.

Guilt was consuming her.

She started to try to make sense out of what happened.

Why did she kiss Brett?

She couldn't blame it on the alcohol because as tipsy as Mekayla was, she knew what she was doing.

It's not that she didn't love Kevin, because she did with all of her heart.

Mekayla reclined on her back and watched her breasts rise and fall from her view. Although they never fell from her view completely, she enjoyed the peep show she was giving herself because every time she inhaled, Mekayla could see the curvy tops of her breasts.

Mekayla was calmer now, she could think clearer.

She opened the water now and took a huge swallow. Some water dripped onto the curvy peep show, which made Mekayla smile.

She came to the conclusion that she was lonely. She realized that didn't justify her actions but it made sense. It's been quite a while since she has been in the company of a man, and although she loved Kevin completely, he has been neglecting her lately.

Maybe it was all in her mind, but that's how she felt.

And Brett, well okay number one Brett was fine.

Mekayla hated to admit it to herself but he was. Not only was he fine, but he was persistent, but not annoying.

Mekayla enjoyed the fact that he found her attractive. She can't remember the last time Kevin paid her an unsolicited compliment. Maybe he was at the comfortable, secure stage of the relationship where those accolades weren't needed anymore.

Mekayla wasn't sure what to make out of it, but when Brett kissed her, it was like everything she was lacking in her relationship presented itself and lingered on her lips.

Mekayla's breathing became deeper as she recreated the kiss in her mind. Brett's mouth fit hers perfectly, like a puzzle. There was no awkward misplacing of lips, no darting tongue, no accidental biting. It was smooth and fluid. Her mouth sunk into his as if it always belonged there.

Brett seemed to know when to kiss her deeper and when to let go and caress her lips with his. Mekayla actually heard his passionate moaning when he kissed her deeper and when Brett let go she could hear him sigh with satisfaction. That, made her want to kiss him again and again.

Even though she was dead wrong.

Since she was wrong, she chose to stay quiet and deal with it. Mekayla got up and took the third joint with her. She placed the drawer back into the desk and returned all of its spilled contents.

She also put the joint and the rolling papers in there

There was no need to hide anything anymore and she never knew why she did it in the first place. She sat down at the desk, shook her mouse and saw the beginning of her book.

I'm never gonna finish this.

She brought up a new Word document, and feverishly began typing what was on her mind, what she knew best-a poem.

i didn’t want to write this poem

because someone would read, this poem

and if i read, this poem

someone would hear, this poem

and they would judge me

by my poem

this poem encompasses

the liar i am becoming

and the whore i fantasize about being

dont give me that demeaning

grimace

the truth is

every one of you

at one time

has had those fantasies

and if you havent

you will

as sure as you are

listening to

reading my

poem.

that i wasnt ready to write

because im wrong

now all the songs i hear on the radio

play more than melodies

they playin me

with my black thoughts

and musiq

you breakin me off is intrusive

and i cant write that poem

because then they will know

they will see

they will hear

and i ain’t ready for that

nah, i ain’t ready to admit that in extreme instances

my mind has me spreading my poor decisions

on the hood of a car

closing my eyes

hearing his sighs

between my thighs

thats wrong

right?

and i cant write about it

cuz its wrong, right?

you cant hear about it

in a song, right?

well yeah you can

like the subjects

of next lifetimes

whenever, where ever, whatever

i get high off of you

and my mind... is in that not quite coherent

moment where

consequence dont matter

and rather

than act on it

im reacting to it

scribbling through it

crossing out

editing

deleting

my poem

but its in me yall

coarsin through my veins

filling my lungs

rising to the back of my throat

so when i open my mouth

rhyme reverberates off my tongue

phrases flip

rhythm resonates

and i spit out

every emotion

i feel like the blind on Braille

mink on bare skin

if bein a poet

is my sin

then i repent

on my knees

please

i didn’t want to write this poem

i had to

now you know the truth

the disgust with my desire

the pain in my pen

the rage on the page

the stages of my sorrow scripted

out

for you

to read my poem

hear my poem

hate my poem

love my poem

lust after my poem

caress my poem

kiss my poem

diss or dismiss my poem

tear my poem

swear at my poem

pray for my poem, cuz its me

become my poem, cuz its you

so now do you

feel

my poem...

that i

didn’t want

to write

Mekayla sighed and walked back over to the pillows to grab the water bottle she left.

She was pleased with the poem but she couldn't show it to Kevin because it would admit her guilt.

Shit she couldn't show it to anyone.

She would just keep it to herself. She decided to sit on her fire escape for a while and clear her thoughts. She knew she could not see Brett again.

If she did she may give in to his desirous kisses and that would really mess up her relationship. Mekayla thought maybe it was safe to call Kevin now that her guilt was on paper and not dripping from her lips.

No not yet.

She thought it would be better if she waited until morning. She walked into her bedroom and shed her clothes for a red satin robe. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from under her bed and opened the door to her fire escape and shut it behind her. She jumped when she turned around because sitting at the bottom of the first flight of metal steps was Brett, dressed in black sweats.

And her phone rang.