Monday, December 20, 2010

Kissing With Your Eyes Open

Kissing With Your Eyes Open

She was brought up in a loving home. Her parents encouraged her in all things academic. Her father was a strong handsome black man who protected the women in his family. Her mother was always supportive and insisted that Cheyenne always be herself, then to be herself quieter, then to be herself only when her father wasn’t looking. They were devout church going folks who could thump a bible loudly. Nowadays they thumped only when she wasn’t around. They maintained their love for Cheyenne but made it quite clear they disagreed with her choices in lifestyle. They believed she could change if she made herself go out with men. If she surrounded herself with men and churchgoers and everything would go normal. That she would be normal. What the fuck was normal?

Cheyenne has always been attracted to women. As far back as she should remember girls held her attention. She found men attractive she just wasn’t attracted to them. When she was in elementary there was a boy who was very convinced that he was in love with her. She convinced him that they would be better off as friends, and by seventh grade he was inviting her to sleepover at his house where she slept with his sister. They would touch and rub while they pretended to sleep. Fingers fumbling, mouths roaming, they wouldn’t kiss with their eyes open until ninth grade. Cheyenne had learned a lot about pleasing a woman during that time. That night in ninth grade when she kissed the girl she’d been sleeping with for three years for the first time with her eyes open, she went to far. She made it too real for herself.

“What do you mean, you’re going out with Tim?” I asked getting in her face.

“Cheyenne, I can go out with whomever I want. Stop acting like this.” She whispered.

“You gonna sleep with him?” I spit. She recoiled like I had slapped her.

“I’m not that easy, Cheyenne.”

“You sure about that?” I spat, wishing I could take the words back. Her face fell. Her lip began to quiver and I knew she was going to cry. I could never handle Bridget’s tears. I looked around to make sure we were still alone, we weren’t, my own lips quivering I muttered “I’m sorry” and fled.

I avoided her all day. We usually walked home together but not that day. I went straight home, took my phone of the hook and tried while curled in the fetal position to imagine Bridget with someone else. The tears came and came.

She was waiting on my porch the next morning, her backpack slung across one shoulder, hands jammed into the pockets of her jeans. She was so pretty, I wanted to touch her, but all I could think was she let someone else touch her last night. I walked past her and she fell in beside me trying to match my speed walk then asked me to slow down.
“I called you five times last night.” She said gripping my arm forcing me to slow down.

“How was your date?” I asked looking at my shoes.

“I didn’t go. I was worried about you. Cheyenne we have to talk about this.”

“What’s to talk about? You like boys, I get it.” I waved my hands over my head.

‘”I do like boys. I have always liked boys. That doesn’t mean I don’t like you too.” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Stay over tonight so we can talk, ok?” I nodded.

That night at Bridget’s house we hung out with her mom and her brother. They were both getting ready for a night on the town with their perspective sweeties. We watched them primp and change outfits’ countless times, both ending up where they started. I was feeling pretty good, until they left and I was alone with Bridget. She and I went through the routine. We washed the dishes, made popcorn and began the ritual of our Friday nights together. We were like a couple, I’d always thought of us as a couple and cuddled up on the couch like that anybody else would have too.

She closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss me. I pulled my face away. She looked surprised.

“Why do you do that? Why do you always close your eyes when you kiss me?”

“I do not always close my eye, Cheyenne. What’s wrong?” she asked. I didn’t answer her I just leaned in and kissed her. Falling back into our old pattern.

We ended up in bed in no time and this time I was determined that she would feel how much I loved. I was so soft with her. The sounds coming from her were so different from any other time. I did things I’d never done before. I graduated that night from grinding and fingers to open thighs and my tongue searching. I watched her watching me, while I hoped I was doing it right. From her reactions I figured I was. I was drunk off of her scent I couldn’t keep my mouth off of her. She held my head in place and a screaming orgasm ripped from her throat. I climbed on top of her grinding as she bucked and shuddered. I turned her face to mine whispered “ look at me” and we kissed with our eyes opened. She held my gaze and her body folded around me. I went down on her as many times as she would let me that night.

She woke me with a kiss on the cheek, and I staggered to the shower my arms and legs aching. Breakfast was cold cereal with her mother and brother. They talked about their dates and asked what our plans were for the day. Then Bridget’s mom asked her, “So when are you and Tim going to finally go out. He really likes you, and he’s cute.” Bridget blushed. She actually blushed.

“He wants me to go to church with him on Sunday then a movie.” She beamed.

“A nice church going boy. You know I like that!” her mother gushed back. “What are you going to wear?”

“Cheyenne and I will figure that out tonight. Cheyenne you’re spending the night again right?” she smiled.

Over the sound of my ripping heart I managed a reply of “Sure.” Barely keeping the tears out of my words.

I didn’t stay the night. She had crushed me and I realized she didn’t care like I did. I realized how she was using me. I loved her but she just loved how I made her feel. I decided then to open my heart in increments. You see all kinds of things about yourself and the one you think you love, when you kiss with your eyes open.

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