Grace After Midnight_ A Memoir - Felicia Pearson [12]
“I know the difference, Denise,” I said.
“You say you do, but you sure don’t act that way. You’re an agitator. You’re looking to agitate whenever you can. You thinking agitating is cool. Well, it’s not.”
“I got people who got my back,” I said.
“I know those people,” said Denise. “I’ve known them a helluva lot longer than you. And the gospel truth is that they don’t got nothing. They don’t have no decency. They don’t have no basic respect for human life. They ain’t God-fearing and they ain’t God-loving. They worship the golden calf. They about money and power. They live by the gun and die by the gun. Is that what you want?”
“I ain’t dying any time soon.”
“I’m not saying you are, baby. But I am saying that the people you’re following will lead you to an early grave. What’s the point of that?”
“What’s the point of anything?”
“God. God’s the point of everything. Comes down to one simple thing—we’re here to love each other, not kill each other. In this here neighborhood, you’re doing one or the other. I’m saying this not to preach to you, sugar, but just to let you know I love you.”
“I love you too, Denise.”
“Then I wanna see you change your ways—and change them now. Can I have a promise? Can I have commitment?”
“My sub’s getting soggy,” I said.
Denise shook her head.
“I want you to think about what I said,” she practically begged me. “At least tell me you’ll do that.”
“I will.”
But I didn’t.
HE’S THINKING,
SHE TURNED YOU OFF.
I’M THINKING,
SHE TURNED ME OUT.
Father looked after me from afar.
Uncle looked after me from up close.
Because he was the King, Father was ruling an entire kingdom. Uncle was a Prince with a smaller territory. The King spent a lot of time holed up in his castle, but the Prince was always around.
Uncle had always been convinced I really wasn’t gay. He’d been watching me grow up for a few years now and didn’t like how I dressed.
“You dress like a boy,” he said, “and you act like a boy because the boys are getting all the action. You want some of that action. I understand where you coming from. But if you ever had any real-life sex with a grown woman, you’d get straightened out in a hurry.”
I didn’t say nothing.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
I still didn’t say nothing.
“All right,” Uncle said. “I’ll prove it to your stubborn ass. I’ll set you up with a horny bitch and see how gay you are after she gets hold of you.”
I looked at him, expressionless.
“You think you man enough to handle that?” he asked sarcastically.
I offered up a little smile.
About a week passed.
“I found her,” said Uncle when I saw him on the corner.
“Found who?”
“The bitch.”
“Oh.”
“Here’s her address. Go by there tonight.”
I went by.
By then I must have been twelve. I’m guessing the woman was nineteen or twenty. She was fine as she could be. I just called her Miss Fine.
“What you know about chopping?” she said to me.
Chopping meant fucking.
“Not too much,” I said.
“Ever do it?” she asked.
“Well, not really.”
“Maybe you not ready for that. Maybe you ready for this.”
For a long while she gave me oral sex. I mean, a long while.
Next time I seen Uncle, he was real curious.
He’s thinking, She turned you off.
I’m thinking, She turned me out.
“What did you think of it?” he asked me.
“Well,” I said. “It was different.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think you set me up with a good experiment. And I wouldn’t mind experimenting a little more.”
Uncle cracked up. “Girl,” he said, “you are crazy.”
Crazy or not, I went back for more. This time Miss Fine gave me some instructions on the fine art of chopping. She taught me how to strap it on. And it’s been on ever since.
Where I grew up, the