The Affair In Turtle Dove Apartments

          I always sneek him in the house during his break. He's twenty-five and and my brother's aquaintence due to the fact he's the neighbor. I often ponder how'd my older brother, Trevor, would react if he ever were to discover I and his neighbor shared more than morning banter and passing words. He'd probably lose what little sanity dwells within him, and his infamous "short circuit" will blow its fuse indefinitely. Our meager ghetto will become the hot-spot for an overly curious journalist with an exaggerated imagination. As she and her trailing camera man run around the ghetto screaming, "And here a crack baby," or "The youth smoking marijuana", the local news would then report a murder in the Turtle Dove apartments of the innercity ghetto. Either Rob will be dead or I'll be seriously injured; Trevor will be held in custody as our debauched "Romeo and Juliet" affair makes national headlines. We will all be another statistic in violent crimes of Portsmouth City or worse... we'll make "Cops". In the end, Mrs. Pearly will be on her porch with knee-highs rolled to her ankles and her rollers still intact since mid-day. You'll sit comfortably on your couch watching television as the camera man films and Mrs. Pearly gossips about how she "seen the whole thang!" Far-fetched idea or no, I'd risk the consequences to be with him; I dare my brother, Mrs. Pearly, or the Portsmouth news to stop me.

          He works as a guard at a bank, and before you jump to conclusions of him being no better than a "mall cop", he's authorized to carry a gun. He visits me on his break, picks me up lunch, and asks how have I been since we've last touched base. Things have always been fine, and I tell him so as I mess over my caesar salad. He speaks of his mother, brothers, and some small town back in North Carolina that I've never been to. Later, we have sex and watch television until it's time for him to go back to work.
          When I'm beside him I think about church which is odd. I wonder if God will condemn me to hell. Perhaps he understands my confusion and patiently waits for me to come to my senses. Then again, God could become angry and punish me. He could have me sleep with someone who is infected with a deadly illness or allow me to become pregnant with a bastard child that I will single handedly raise as another dependent on the government. Rob doesn't like condoms, so I think about how I've already pissed God off enough. I always debate whether or not I'm foolish. My mother says if I must debate, then I am. I'm already having pre-marital sex, and now Rob wants to enter me without protection. It's like an invitation for the Devil to plot a scheme... or me to make a dumb decision. Let's say I chose to play with the devil for two minutes, and then told him to get another condom. I've grown up in the church and to atheists and non-believers I'm foolish. But if God is real, I don't want to piss him off further. Afterwards, Rob wrestles with me and tells me more about the small town in North Carolina that he's from, and I listen like the town is Wonderland and he's Alice. If sin is wrong, why I am happy?

          He thinks I have a number of men to choose from, but of course he doesn't speak it aloud. I do but I don't care for them, and I don't sleep with them. I'm happier and more comfortable in his presence, but I can't blame him for feeling as if I'm a young girl playing with men's hearts. The role fits me well. A young girl just entering into adulthood with fire in her eyes, curiosity that leads to danger, and hidden hurt behind a smile is a perfect candidate for the beginning of a lost soul... at least I think so. He likes me, but he just can't see what I would want with him. He doesn't understand why I pursue him so fervently. It confuses the shit out of him, and honestly I like him because he is the first man I've ever been around and felt as if he'd like me for me.
          I made Rob late. He's in a rush now, so I help him with his things. He laid his gun on my dresser drawer, and I laugh at the thought of him forgetting it and my brother discovering it.
          "Explain yourself out of this, heffa," he'd command. Then he'd rest her weary eyes on me and say, "Fuck it, you're grown and I'm not always here."
          Rob kisses my head and holds me close. He looks in my eyes, and I know what he's thinking, "too good to be real." I don't blame him for thinking it, but I wish I couldn't read him. I wish I couldn't see the guards he places around his own heart because it makes me afraid to tear those guards down. I'm afraid to intrude and scare him away. I just try to look him deep in his eyes, and I say that I enjoyed his company. I like it when he's around.
          "You'll tell me anything," he says jokingly, but I understood he thought his statement as truth.
          "No, I wouldn't," I say flatly. I meant it, and I watch as he hurries out the door. I watch as he drives away. I wave, and he waves back, and I wonder if I'm foolish. I wonder if I'm perfectly fine and sensible. Love creates fools, I've heard. I suppose everyone in the neighborhood knows, but my brother. I wonder if the idiots drinking on their doorstep a few doors down dap and high-five Rob when I'm not looking. Worse, I wonder if Rob high-fives them back because then that means all I ever was to him was a piece a meat, something to penetrate. Mrs. Pearly isn't outside, but I know she's looking through her blinds shaking her head in disdain. The drunk stooges shoot me a wink and whistle a bit. I smile and shrug. I contemplate whether or not I should continue seeing Rob. However, if you have to wonder, you must be foolish, right?