Cliché

Cliche - Bruised

                                                " Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder "  

" Azalea, is Quamaine okay?" The girls asked, rushing towards me as I sat down in the empty lobby.

The mistakes that he made in the past was beyond me, but putting his life on the line was too much for me to bare. I stood up from my seat, exchanging looks from both of my parents, and to my best friends before I ignored their question and walked off.

I went outside to clear my head. I didn't know what to believe at this point. Usually what happened before I stepped foot into someone's life was strictly their business, but today I wanted Quamaine to look me in my face and tell me the truth. I know that no woman would lie on their child's name. I didn't want to believe what I assumed, but my assumptions were putting together pieces that were already connected.

"You troubled?" A dark-skinned woman with bags under her eyes, asked. She was dressed down in old rags, missing quite a few teeth in her mouth, and she had a shopping cart that held : blankets, a dirty pillow, and an old antique ashtray.

"I don't even know."

"You do know, because if you didn't you wouldn't be out here standing in the cold when your boyfriend is up their fighting for his life."

"How you know that?" I asked, furrowing up my eyebrows.

"First and foremost it's common sense, and secondly I'm psychic. I see things the day before it happens." she looked my way, "You see I've seen many young girls your age being told that the person you're with is not right for you, or you don't deserve him. That isn't true.Now I'm not going to spoil your future with my knowledge, but you need to observe and listen closely, that's the only way you'll know what to do."

"Can I ask you a question miss?" she nodded her head, assuring that it was okay, "Are me and Quamaine meant for each other?"

"Do opposites attract?" she smiled.

"I'm starting not to believe that cliche. If he wanted to keep the truth from me then he should of fore-warned me. I don't like to be the last to know something, especially since he lied to my face. I just want him to tell me the truth."

"So what's taking you so long to ask?"

"Cause I'm scared that the truth is what I don't want to hear. I'm not going to want to believe it, knowing that it is true. I'm scared to lose him. I'm sick of everybody saying that I'm not the right girl for him. They don't know sh*t about us."

"You're scared for him to tell you what you want to hear cause you're afraid that it's going to hurt you, which proves everybody else right?"

"Yeah, I don't want to know if that's what't going to happen."

She was silent for a minute, "You want to know a story?" she asked looking out into the distance. I nodded my head, "When I was your age, I knew a boy just like Quamaine. He was into the whole lil thug thing. I never understood it. He was trained killer. He was taught by his father, and so on did the legend go. That boy was indenial. He loved the streets, it was his second home. The only love he recieved was from his mother. He thought he lost her when he poured his heart out to the streets. Little did he know that that woman was protecting him, by leaving town. You could go to any state, city, and country, and say his name. He was well-know, but not in a good way. When he thought he lost his mother, he poured his heart out to me. I loved him like no other, and gave him a baby boy, but just like his mother I had to protect him. I had to leave them both. And you know what hurt more than leaving him, was seeing him move on so quickly with someone else. I know that my days on earth are not going to be long, but I do know that when you love someone they always come back to you. Now he ain't come back yet cause I'm the one he's waiting for." she looked at me, placing a flower hat on her head, "The moral of the story is to let go and overpower your fear of being alone, because in the end if you keep holding onto something so tight, you're bond to lose that grip. Cliche's are not as bad as you think because they actually make you think. Whoever told you that you couldn't love a thug was dead on wrong. Because from personal expierence honey, all thugs need love." she winked at me, pushing her cart out into the rain.