I was going to quit smoking and then I found out my little sister was a stripper.
What makes it worse is how I found out. Some cornball pissant perv shot me a text at about 2am one Tuesday night. This pedo-kleptomaniac semi-acquaintance of mine had the eloquence and tact of a caveman with a sledgehammer in his message.
“Aiyo, B. Swear to Jesus nuts, I just put an Andrew Jackson in Nina’s panties.”
There is a degree of genius in having “nuts” and “panties” in the same statement and not relating them directly. He then followed that Shakespearean gem up with:
“She got some nice ass titties too, huh?”
Just to clarify, Nina and I, we’re not blood-related. I’ve known homegirl since she was too small to speak for herself. I reluctantly helped out through some tough times and eventually grew fond of the little truant and took her under my wing. That was back when I was fresh out of “the hood” and she was still a resident. We both grew, traveled, got our own lives. Now, at eighteen, dirty fingernails were pushing dirtier bank notes into her under garments. I was not sure if that bothered me or not.
After taking a few good hard tokes at a Newport while reclined in the seat of my car, it dawned on me that this didn’t quite pinch the way it should have. Granted, on the surface, it seems like a sad situation but the element of choice changes everything. She could’ve done a million and one other things, the least of which is ask for a place to stay temporarily or for some money. But she chose not to. Probably because we both do not believe in taking loans and asking for favors. She took it upon herself to drop drawls, hop on that fabled pole and tootsie roll her way down to VIP pits of Hell with only ass clapping as an applause. Although I didn’t condone it, this was a choice she made. Besides what was I gonna do from thousands of miles away?
So I tried calling her. I hung up after two rings and opted to finish the cig first. Clearly our Neanderthal shared acquaintance was still typing poetry while paying her bills, so I doubted she was taking phone calls. By the time I was pulling another 100 from the pack, she called back, panting heavily and we caught up on time past. Time in which she’s become bi, high and whole new sack of issues.
I hung up after giving my two pennies and nothing more. See, when you have your back to a wall or your teeth to the curb, then and only then do you deserve pity and maybe handouts. But when you have options and choices, you have the right to guidance, counsel and support. Should you forfeit that right, life is not a court, you will not be judged.
The thing in life is that no decision is easy and all paths related to that decision are equally arduous, but not equally lucrative. We both chose to not succumb to failure and amount to nothing. We both chose to not be in debt and not give up. Only difference is when I’m buttoning up my shirt in the morning, she’s dimming the lights and drawing the curtains. [To Be Continued...]
*All names have been changed to protect the identities of….fuck it. It’s none of your business.