sunroof.
“Who do you
think you are you country bastard, a lumberjack?” Ingrid shouted.
“Call me John
Henry. Timberrrrrrrrr! Bitch!!!” I shouted, as I brought the sledgehammer down
a second time on the roof of the car. The garage door was up only halfway but
still low enough to get her car out. Instinct told me she would try to back up
with me standing on the hood so the garage door would hit me in the face and
knock me off the car. When she threw it into reverse, I jumped up and caught
onto an exposed ceiling beam then pointed my finger at her and laughed as I
mocked her while swinging on the beam with one arm. She stopped at the end of
the driveway and shouted,
“This ain’t
over!”
“Don’t bring
your ass back!” I said as she backed the car out into the street and drove
away.
I locked all
of my doors, took a shower, and went to bed. Nadiah was gone, so was any
leftover love I had. She and I were officially over.
Six
Ezekiel Nelson
After Jazz
admitted his attraction to me things became awkward. He acted like he had
to conform to some stereotype. He became overly and unnaturally affectionate,
always kissing or touching me. He acted like he was trying to follow some
imaginary gay handbook.
“Zeke let’s
talk.”
“Sure, Jazz.”
“I’ll be
blunt. Zeke I don’t know how to do this.”
“How to do
what?”
“You know…
this… us. Be… um… g-g-ga-uh… um.”
“Oh gay?”
“Yeah that.”
“You are
making it too complicated Jazz.”
“Sorry Zeke,
I just want to do this right. I want to make you happy.”
“There is no
“right way to be gay”. You may or may not even be gay. I know I am. You on the
other hand may not be gay but bisexual. You have been trying too hard to fit
into some role you think you are supposed to play. I don’t want you to be
anything or anyone but Jazz.”
“Zeke, I am
not attracted to men. I am attracted to you. I love you more than anything in
the world, but I mean nothing about me is gay or at least gay as I know it.”
“Jazz you are
trying too hard to label yourself. If a label fits a person, that’s fine. You
don’t conform to a label. The label has to fit you. Labels are for other people
anyway. We rarely label ourselves. When everything is labeled, people aren’t
forced to think. It’s how stereotypes are perpetuated. With labels no one has
to take the time or effort to see a complete person, they can just hate them
from jump.”
“I see what
you mean. No matter what I identify with, other people will call me what they
have labeled me. So in other words, don’t let other people and what they think
define me?”
“Exactly.”
“Zeke, this
is all new to me but there is one thing I am sure of.”
“What’s
that?”
“That I want
to make love to you”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah and that
I’d never hurt you.”
“Is that a
promise you can keep?”
“I’m pretty
sure I can.”
“How can you
be so sure?”
“Because I
love you and seeing you hurt would make me hurt.”
“Jazz there
is something I should have told you the night we had that argument.”
“What’s
that?”
“Jamal and I
came close to getting busy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Word? Baby
you were really thinking about me?”
“Yes, he was
kissing me and I called out your name. That’s why he left.”
“When I
wanted you with me, you wanted to be with me too, huh?”
“Wanted? I
still do.”
“Baby we
ain’t gotta wish no more.”
“We don’t?”
“No, cause
I’m right here and I’m ready.”
“Do you know
how much I’ve fantasized about you?”
“Show me how
much. Show me how bad you want to play some Jazz baby.”
Jazz followed
me into my bedroom. I am not sure which of us was more nervous. He felt like he
needed to impress me. I was afraid I would pop my cork too fast. The
bedside lamp provided an intense red glow over the room as we undressed each
other. Jazz kissed me passionately as he let
“Who do you
think you are you country bastard, a lumberjack?” Ingrid shouted.
“Call me John
Henry. Timberrrrrrrrr! Bitch!!!” I shouted, as I brought the sledgehammer down
a second time on the roof of the car. The garage door was up only halfway but
still low enough to get her car out. Instinct told me she would try to back up
with me standing on the hood so the garage door would hit me in the face and
knock me off the car. When she threw it into reverse, I jumped up and caught
onto an exposed ceiling beam then pointed my finger at her and laughed as I
mocked her while swinging on the beam with one arm. She stopped at the end of
the driveway and shouted,
“This ain’t
over!”
“Don’t bring
your ass back!” I said as she backed the car out into the street and drove
away.
I locked all
of my doors, took a shower, and went to bed. Nadiah was gone, so was any
leftover love I had. She and I were officially over.
Six
Ezekiel Nelson
After Jazz
admitted his attraction to me things became awkward. He acted like he had
to conform to some stereotype. He became overly and unnaturally affectionate,
always kissing or touching me. He acted like he was trying to follow some
imaginary gay handbook.
“Zeke let’s
talk.”
“Sure, Jazz.”
“I’ll be
blunt. Zeke I don’t know how to do this.”
“How to do
what?”
“You know…
this… us. Be… um… g-g-ga-uh… um.”
“Oh gay?”
“Yeah that.”
“You are
making it too complicated Jazz.”
“Sorry Zeke,
I just want to do this right. I want to make you happy.”
“There is no
“right way to be gay”. You may or may not even be gay. I know I am. You on the
other hand may not be gay but bisexual. You have been trying too hard to fit
into some role you think you are supposed to play. I don’t want you to be
anything or anyone but Jazz.”
“Zeke, I am
not attracted to men. I am attracted to you. I love you more than anything in
the world, but I mean nothing about me is gay or at least gay as I know it.”
“Jazz you are
trying too hard to label yourself. If a label fits a person, that’s fine. You
don’t conform to a label. The label has to fit you. Labels are for other people
anyway. We rarely label ourselves. When everything is labeled, people aren’t
forced to think. It’s how stereotypes are perpetuated. With labels no one has
to take the time or effort to see a complete person, they can just hate them
from jump.”
“I see what
you mean. No matter what I identify with, other people will call me what they
have labeled me. So in other words, don’t let other people and what they think
define me?”
“Exactly.”
“Zeke, this
is all new to me but there is one thing I am sure of.”
“What’s
that?”
“That I want
to make love to you”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah and that
I’d never hurt you.”
“Is that a
promise you can keep?”
“I’m pretty
sure I can.”
“How can you
be so sure?”
“Because I
love you and seeing you hurt would make me hurt.”
“Jazz there
is something I should have told you the night we had that argument.”
“What’s
that?”
“Jamal and I
came close to getting busy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Word? Baby
you were really thinking about me?”
“Yes, he was
kissing me and I called out your name. That’s why he left.”
“When I
wanted you with me, you wanted to be with me too, huh?”
“Wanted? I
still do.”
“Baby we
ain’t gotta wish no more.”
“We don’t?”
“No, cause
I’m right here and I’m ready.”
“Do you know
how much I’ve fantasized about you?”
“Show me how
much. Show me how bad you want to play some Jazz baby.”
Jazz followed
me into my bedroom. I am not sure which of us was more nervous. He felt like he
needed to impress me. I was afraid I would pop my cork too fast. The
bedside lamp provided an intense red glow over the room as we undressed each
other. Jazz kissed me passionately as he let
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