After she fell, I rushed and helped her up the elevator into my apartment. She was, of course, drunk. Damned drunk for real. So, I just placed her on my bed. It would be bad for her to sleep in the guest room bed; I had not changed the bedding and everything; After all that went down last night.
It would be bad.
She lay in the bed quietly, as I observed her, seated on the little chair that was always opposite my bed. I looked at her eyes, her steady breathing, how her hair was crazily made, her smudged lipstick, but she was still beautiful. I wondered why I was dragging this feeling, why were we really dragging it? My head questioned, but I knew the reason behind it. I did not know if I was ready; I was scared I would hurt her.
"Will you keep staring?" she suddenly asked, her voice sleepy.
This made me a little surprised, but I just smiled.
"Talk to me," she suddenly added, opening her eyes slowly.
"Which year are you in?" I questioned. I honestly wanted to know more about her.
"This is my last," she stated, and I saw a little smile of happiness from her.
"Where was your boyfriend?" I questioned, now pretending to be moody.
"He hates parties," she stated, making me chuckle.
"Sorry," I added quickly, after seeing her eyes become more squinted. "What do you like in men? What's your ideal type?" I asked, wanting to really know what she liked; plus I did not want to have her boyfriend the center of our whole conversation. Additionally, I wanted to see if I fit into her category.
"Men who are sweet, but I end up falling for men who fear relationships and are somehow broken. Do I deserve it?" she suddenly stated, making me look down in embarrassment. I suddenly hated myself for bringing up that question. She sure was referring to men like me. I guess I should have never approached her that day, I really shouldn't have; that day on the party when we first met.
"I'm sorry!" I genuinely stated, as the feelings of just opening up to her came in. "I never thought I would ever really find someone who would charm me. That's why I was always like that. With time, I started seeing you differently, I started just wanting to do right. I then, thought I was doing the right thing because of guilt, but I have come to realize guilt was not the only thing in the picture. I wanted to do it because I wanted to. That time when I did not receive your calls, I had had a conversation with Elvis, before he left for Iraq that is, and he had requested me not to entertain you, nor think of ways to do it. You see, Aaliyah, I'm not the best of people in this world. After my heartbreak..." I realized I was already crowding her with a lot of personal information, but regardless, I just wanted to take this off my chest. I just wanted her to really know me. As I once said, Aaliyah just made me open up. "After my heartbreak," she was still listening, as she always did, attentively watching me, "After my heartbreak, Aaliyah, I just lost it. I engaged in drugs, I started having affairs with just club women. I started bedding any woman who got around with me and needed me. I became a total insane person. I believe even Sodom and Gomorrah, rest assured, were better off than me. I hated life, I hated school, I hated work, I hated people. I just fell in love with the alcohol. It brought me peace; it drowned my thoughts. It seemed I was always fighting battles every day I woke up." I finished and stared at Aaliyah waiting for her response, but she did not say a word. She was just silent, still looking at me. "...but I stopped." I added, nervous that she would hate me for all those actions. I was suddenly scolding myself for telling her more than necessary. 'Being free with her' turned into 'what ifs' in my head. I wondered if she was contemplating my honesty with her, or if she was comparing her boyfriend's experience with mine.
It's true men with experience were generally preferred by women, but on the ground, I came to realize some women hate too much experience. The insecurity that drives them, that insecurity of the man weighing her in the category of the many women, honestly scared me.
"I did not weigh them against you..." I added, the most stupid of additions, making her eyes look at me fully open in surprise.
"What? You weighed what happened with what used to happen?" she questioned, and I sensed some guilt and frustration in her voice.
"No... no... not that. I barely even knew them. I was too drunk to even notice," I stated, covering up for my previous statement, not knowing it would erupt another volcano.
"Hayzen! You barely knew them?"
"N... N... I mean," I stuttered, nervous and anxious about what to say, "I used protection, I promise. And I stopped, I promise I stopped. I realized it was doing me no good."
"I think I should go home," she suddenly stated, using her hands to help her sit up.
"No... stay for the night. It's late, come on," I stated.
"I will sleep on the couch," she added, and I found myself worried. Worried about everything I had said. Worrying that my truth, as I had initially anticipated, would make us part. She was the first girl I really told all this to. She was the first girl my heart had broken for ever since my breakup with Kate.
"N... n... no... no... no," I nervously stated, kneeling next to the bed straight to her, so that we could have a better view of each other. I placed my hand on one of hers and just shook my head, trying to tell her not to do this to me.
My eyes were already feeling the heaviness of her leaving me, right after confessing my worst dread.
"Was that 'I love you' real?" she questioned. "Or is it what you told them?"
"I meant it, I meant it, I even called you by your name. It was a moment of vulnerability last night. I would never... I STOPPED IT. I stopped it a long time ago. I focused on work. Don't make me regret telling you," I finished, placing both of my hands on my face in frustration.
She neither said anything nor did anything. So, we just looked at each other. This time even sexual thoughts did not embrace my mind.
"I will sleep on the couch," I stated, pointing at the couch that was in the bedroom. I barely sat on it nor used it anyway. She still did not say anything, so I took one of the bed covers and got myself comfortable on the couch. However, sleep was the last thing that embraced me.
She fell asleep right when I left her to embrace the couch. So, I just looked at her as the thoughts of all my bad decisions came in. I knew it never started with Kate's experience. It all started when I was being used by older women to pleasure them. Before even Kate's presence. I never told anyone about this though. It was just a way to at least earn something. I was small-bodied to do masonry work, in addition, I barely had a license to start Uber work. I barely knew about work permits, and I needed to ease my mother the burden of two children. I needed to put myself aside and help her focus on my little sister. Telling Aaliyah this would make her hate me even more. She would despise me in all possible ways, and that is not good, especially with the fact that I had already told her my previous occurrences, and this is how she acted.
I laid my head there, eyes on the ceiling board, as tears just escaped my eyes. I was feeling really sad, especially for myself. I hated myself, I hated everything. I just, for the first time in a while, wanted to feel the breeze of being in love again. I wanted to feel the feeling of my heart aching and breaking for someone. And Aaliyah had somehow found her way in it, she had somehow made me break down my walls, despite at first not knowing how to act with her around.
Not only Aaliyah's reaction but also the fact that I had become the worst father the world would ever make, second to my own father, made me feel irritated. I barely even asked Kate how it all went. My own son was poured acid on just to dilute his body, as if he were nothing. I had failed, not just myself, but the little world mother nature had given me to take care of. I was maybe worse than my own father. Maybe my own father had his own reasons for leaving, but I, I had all reasons to be there despite that police restriction order. I should have fought even with the police. I should have been jailed, at least one proof of 'Hayzen you tried'. But the fear of jail was still something. It was not always easy for a black student being jailed. It would even cost one's future careers and endeavors.