Gazing down at her, not knowing if I’d have this forever…I prayed that I was planting my seed, tying us together for a lifetime.
Summer
The end of summer…
My summer after high school had to bethefucking wildest. With no school and plenty of time on our hands, me and Breeze had done the most.
After talking about it, we’d decided that we wanted to experience a New York summer. And with the means and resources at our disposal, we made it happen. So, for two weeks we stayed in an Airbnb and kicked it in the NY.
After my mama had personally booked the Airbnb top floor apartment, me and Breeze had gone half on the expenses…and a damn baby.
Wait. No. Let me be honest. I didn’t get pregnant in New York, because apparently, I was already pregnant, but that’s where I’d discovered that I was pregnant. Right before suffering a miscarriage.
Unknowingly, I was three months pregnant, and was living my best life. My period had been irregular, and I was spotting, which was why I’d never bothered with a pregnancy test.
Things came to a head when we were hanging in Times Square, one day. It started to rain. I ran. And slipped onthe concrete. Landing hard. Then a few hours later, I started bleeding, heavily.
By the time I couldn’t take the pain anymore, and had gone to the emergency room, it was too late for any interventions. And while I was using the rest room, a tiny being dropped out of my vagina, petrifying me.
It was weird to find out that you were pregnant and experiencing a miscarriage, all in one sitting. It was even wilder that I experienced that, before flying back to Houston, pretending that nothing happened.
Me and Breeze had made the decision not to tell our parents about the pregnancy. With them already having reservations about our relationship, we just felt like sharing the miscarriage news wouldn’t help anything.
Then…on the backend…I think that it took me a little longer to return to myself. I was in my head, struggling to process the loss. Meanwhile, Breeze was outside.
He may not have cared for the clubs, but he loved a good college kickback. And he was gonna attend every invite, regardless if I was in attendance or not. Then when I would stay at home, I’d stumble across a random classmate’s story on IG and see Breeze hanging, being extra friendly with bitches. Then it didn’t help that everybody thought that he was single. And that…was my fault.
Breeze wanted us to publicly claim each other. Yes, our family knew, as well as some of our friends, but we’d never announced it to the world. Because I didn’t like how that would make me look.
In my eyes, once college had begun and people were moving on socially, then I could openly talk about my relationship, without the scrutiny. They were already questioning ourdecision to show up at prom together, which was why we’d only stayed for a couple of hours, before going off to do our own thing.
Not being the talk of the school and having dirt on my name had become more important to me, as I’d decided to stop being anonymous when it came to my identity associated with my books. Before graduating, the whole school had found out about my writing, and several of them had downloaded the Kindle app, wanting to be nosey. Hell, even the teachers were reading my books. And there was nothing but positive feedback.
So, with my classmates now knowing about my writing career, I felt like that situation with Breeze and Harlem could taint things.
High schoolers were petty and lived for social media. My independent career was also made possible through social media. So, if I ended the school year with a scandal attached to my name, then it would seep into my writing career. And the last thing I wanted to be known as was the young author who was with her step-brother, after cheating on her boyfriend, who was also the step-brother’s friend.
Sure, I wouldn’t die if the world knew my truths, but if I could keep the public out of my business, then that was what I was gonna do. Especially when all I had to do was not share my life with people that I was leaving behind. The only issue was that me and Breeze didn’t align on that way of thinking.
He claimed that I cared too much about what other people thought. I felt like he didn’t care enough. Especially when the backlash wouldn’t affect us the same. Hell, the public probably wouldn’t criticize Breeze at all, due to societal double standards. Meanwhile, I would be labeled as loose, amongst other things. And I don’t think that I could handle people viewing me in thatlight. So, Breeze was just my step-brother when it came to the students of Atascosita High.
And that was why I was forced to listen to and witness girls openly talk about wanting to fuck him. Then realization slowly settled in.
In just one week, me and Breeze would be on opposite ends of the country, and I feared that whatever he felt for me would gradually fade, as new girls, and experiences entered the equation.
My view was shifting in this direction, because Breeze had gradually morphed back into his original being. The version of him who wasn’t smitten by me and the in-house pussy. This version loved to hang with his boys. Bounce back and forth between the burbs and the streets of 5thWard.
Now, it didn’t feel like he belonged solely to me. And I hadn’t said a word about it. Not because I was passive. It was more so because I didn’t believe in things happening by chance.
Me and Breeze were both at a pivotal point in our lives…and if all signs were pointing to us not working out, then I was going to listen. Because maybe this was the universe freeing me of the shackles of having to fight to keep the relationship intact. So that I could fully get to experience my freshman year of college, without attachments.
At the end of the day, those eight months with Breeze had been something that I’d never forget, but I also had to remember that I was Summer. Before anything else. And she would be great. With or without Ricky Junior.
In all honesty, I was beginning to miss the old version of me. The one who wasn’t in love, and didn’t allow relationships to move her in one way or another. Because being in love was starting to feel like a drag.
I was too emotional. Too aware. Too susceptible to being hurt. The shit wasn’t fun, anymore. And I wanted off the ride.
Or maybe…this was all a defense mechanism, because I could feel Breeze slipping through my hands. Perhaps I was attempting to psych myself out, so that I didn’t fall apart, when Breeze headed to UConn and stopped picking up the phone.
