C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Prologue

"I just wanna' kiss you in the middle of the street, without anyone looking at us, and no complications."

~

I tried denying it forever, maybe ignoring the throbbing of my heart whenever he was around. He gave me butterflies in the pit of my stomach to the extent in which I turned into a ditz. Hazed into staring into his sparkling eyes and crazier to caress his soft skin.

I tried denying it forever, maybe the warming of my body when he held me. The vibrations that radiated from his chest to my cheek as I laid my head down on him. It was always something special whenever he sang to me. His melodic voice filling my ears was amazingly special. In the backseat of his chic Cadillac while we blasted sounds from the radio.

I tried denying it forever, maybe the tears I cried when reality hit me as if I was blitzed all along. When I had to sneak him in my house, or ask for his help to board up the windows of my house. When we had to act like strangers in the middle of street. I would never hang around his cats no matter how much of a 'cool head' they were. I knew nobody at his 'WHITES ONLY' school associated with us. The negroes.

I didn't know if the tears I cried were for this unfair and unjust treatment, or because I couldn't be with my beloved, the person my heart wanted. I didn't figure out why I was crying until years down the road.

I wasn't crying because of racism or my love. I was crying because I wasn't comfortable with the dynamics of my relationship. That's one thing I couldn't change was myself. I couldn't change the fact that I wasn't comfortable with being so defiant to Jim Crow laws, I couldn't change the fact that I was scared to walk down the street holding Deen's hand. Was holding my spouse's hand a crime? No, it wasn't. I just wasn't comfortable with being. . . different.

And by the time I came to this conclusion, it was already too late.