Wisdom Seeds by Patrice Johnson Page A

issues.” His tone was apologetic as we turned into the Red Lobster parking lot.
    Sitting with my arms crossed and staring out the window, I remained silent.
    Greg parked in the back of the lot, then he took my hand and kissed it gently. “I never know what’s going on at home. My little brother is a gangster wanna be who’s always got trouble with him – he’s either in jail or working his way back. Police, gang bangers, ghetto girls, drug dealers – you never know who’s looking for him and who’s at the door.”
    â€œI’m so sorry,” I said regretting my anger.
    â€œMy mother cries a lot and my father drinks a lot,” he continued. “My sister Jackie moved to California when she was eighteen, said she couldn’t take it anymore. Gwen had her first baby when she was fourteen, she now has three kids and she’s only twenty. I do the best I can.”
    Not knowing what to say, I sat there holding back tears. I understood family dysfunction very well. I squeezed his hand and stroked his face.
    â€œI wish I could hold you,” he whispered in my ear. “I could use a hug.”
    It was awkward trying to hug him in the car across the console. He smelled good.
    â€œI’m sorry.” He smiled and softly kissed my cheek. “This was no way to start our date.”
    â€œWe don’t have to stay,” I told him
    â€œAre you sure? I did promise you dinner.”
    â€œI’ll be okay, will you?”
    â€œBe better if you’d come by my place for a while.”
    Greg lived a few blocks from Carnegie Mellon University in a one-bedroom apartment on Forbes Avenue. There were flyers from several pizza places posted over the mailboxes. The wood banister to the second floor had been preserved and was the only reminder that this had once been a single-family house. He lived in apartment three.
    Greg confessed to being a fan of Richard Roundtree and we settled on the couch with Shaft, iced tea and chipped ham sandwiches. By the middle of the movie we were snuggled on the couch. I was holding Greg’s left hand to keep it out of my shirt and his right arm was wrapped tightly around my waist. I could feel his heart beating. His body was warm and it felt good being so close to him.
    â€œThis was better than Red Lobster.”
    I turned to smile at him and he kissed me. First lightly on my lips and then he was kissing me down my neck. I melted at his touch and then he was on top of me. His warm hands were on my back pulling me closer to him.
    â€œStop!” I pushed him away and scooted back so I could sit up. He felt good, but I didn’t want to lead him on. Sex was not what I had planned for the evening.
    â€œNo pressure,” he smiled. “That’s not why you’re here.”
    He kept his hands to himself for the rest of the movie and then drove me home. Standing at the door, he whispered in my ear, “I had a great time. Can we do this again?” Then he kissed my forehead.
    I smiled knowing I would see him again and again and again.
    Our dates typically began with dinner or going to the mall and seemed to always end up in his apartment. He was so comfortable. Five weeks into the relationship, I let Gregmake love to me. It was a balmy Friday night at the end of July – too humid for the drive-in and too late to go anywhere else. We were lying on the couch in front of the fan watching my favorite movie, Love Story, when he put his hands under my shirt. He started kissing me down my neck and his hands were unfastening my bra. I didn’t want to say no and I didn’t want him to stop. While the movie played to the living room furniture, we played house in the bedroom.
    I watched Greg sleeping and studied his body. He looked good all over. My feelings frightened me, but being with Greg felt good. My parents would kill me if they found out. Nana had told me that losing my virginity was a special gift to be shared