I don’t know where I was going that day. I can’t remember. I do know that I was on the train though. It was the Wilson stop, right around the corner from Darryl’s crib. Maybe I was on my way to school, who knows. But that’s where I saw her. or actually I think saw me. No, we saw each other. There was a quiet nervousness surround the both of us. She was cute as hell to me. Petite. Pretty, but not too pretty. More like, a girl next door look to her. She looked easy to get along with. Like I said, it’s strange when you notice that a girl likes you. Sandra’s ( I call her Sandra for short ) thing was that she would look down at the ground, and fidget with her hands or her feet or something. I could feel that she liked me. I think she could feel that I liked her too.
We were waiting on the same train, the Dan Ryan El going south. The trains in Chicago are divided into cars. there’s usually about 8-10 separate car per train, and each car has 2 doors. When our train pulled up, a door stopped right in front of me. and a door to another car stopped right in front of her, about 10 feet away. I hesitated walking into my separate train car. If I had I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to this girl. Oh well, I walked in anyway. To my surprise though, she wasn’t going for that. She ran over to my door and walked into the train. She stood right in front of me, still looking down and not saying anything. I didn’t say anything either, but I definitely noticed the fact that she had made that big effort to place herself near me. I guess she was waiting on me to speak. I did. Can’t remember what I said though.
Relationships in our day and age are strange. Have you ever noticed that no one ever says, “hey, I think you should be my girlfriend”? There’s never a moment when the relationship starts officially. You just look up one day and, that’s your girl. Sandra was mine. We hit it off great. So great in fact that I left Darryl’s house and moved in with her.
It was Cassandra, Cassandra’s lil sister, her mother, and her mother’s boyfriend, and me all in one house. Certain things run rampant in the hood, and crack is one of them. Sandra’s mom was a crack head also. And she was alot worse than Darryl’s mom with it. But she was still a nice lady to me most of the time, and I enjoyed living there also.
Up until this time I was skinny as a stick. My mom was always a health food nut. She never fried anything in our house. We ate nasty shit like raw spinach and stuff like that. When I moved into Cassandra’s house, I discovered.. .. .. Crisco. I must’ve fried everything. Fried chicken, fried pork chops, Fried fries, fried everything. Especially on the 1st of the month. On the first of the month we would goto Aldi’s with a shopping cart and come back with that cart full of groceries. Mostly junk. In my year or so living with Cassandra’s mom, I must’ve put on 60 lbs.
Their house was also covered in roaches. it was the worst I had ever seen. thinking back on it now it was absolutely disgusting. At night when we went into the kitchen and turned the lights on, the floors, walls, and ceilings were all covered in roaches. And that bullshit about roaches scattering in the light just aint true. at least not for these pests. they would pretty much stay right where the fuck they was until you stepped on a couple of them bastards, then they would scatter. I remember opening the cabinate doors to find the inside covered from end to end in roaches. Packed tight, back to back. You’d have to open and slam the cabinate door quickly to make most of them fall off so that you could reach in and get what you want. It’s unheard of for me to live in such a place now, but it was nothing to me then. I just adapted. Don’t leave your plate on the table for more than 5 seconds. hold your drink in between your legs. And sleep with your mouth closed. No big deal.
Life with Cassandra was good. She was my first real girlfriend. My first serious relationship as I put it back then. There was alot of passion between us. While her mom and friends were in one room smoking, we’d usually be in another room, with the door closed fucking. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve had the same passion during sex since then as I had with her. That was young and in love fuckin. Hard, go at it again and again fucking. Let’s see how many times I can bust a nut fucking. There was so much passion there. Unfortunately, sex isn’t the only place where young passion showed itself. Cassandra was my first girlfriend, first serious relationship and, the first girl I ever beat.
I can’t remember alot about myself growing up, but I remember this moment like it was yesterday. We were arguing about something. Back then I was insanely jealous. I would go crazy over stupid things. She was an R Kelly fan, and I would insist that she throw away all of her R Kelly CD’s, turn off the radio whenever a guy was singing on it (especially R Kelly), and never watch music videos. Whatever we was arguing about, I’m sure it probably had something to do with R Kelly, or KC from Jodecee.
We were in our usual fucking room. It was one of 2 rooms where the handle locked. Her mom and friends always went into the other room to smoke. They liked that room because it was close to the stove. I think they needed the fire on the stove for whatever they were doing. I can clearly remember the extra strong smell of crack in the air that night. Anyway, we were arguing, and I kept badgering her and badgering her. I had backed her into the corner of the room and was really laying into her verbally about whatever I was angry at. Finally she said something very strange. Looking up at me, with tears in her eyes she said, “Why don’t you just hit me. Why don’t you just beat my ass.” Then the sadness turned to anger, as she started yelling at me. “hit me! Hit me you punk!”. I didn’t know what to do. I had never been there before. I was raised to never hit a woman.
Here she was, daring me to hit her. Begging me to hit her. With just a couple of seconds of thought, I balled my fist up and swung on her. She immediately dropped to the floor and curled up in a little ball and started crying. Almost instantly I felt sorry. I dropped down on my knees next to her, and began telling her how incredibly sorry I was for putting my hands on her. And then, she accepted my apology. I told her I’d never do it again. She put her head on my chest, and we made love shortly after that. It was good. But something had changed in me. It was the power I felt. 1 second this girl is defying me, screaming at the top of her lungs, and then with one swing, I could make her shut the fuck up. And then she was cooing in my arms. She went from being against me to being my baby again, totally under my control. I liked that control. I used it again many, many times after that night.
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