RIPPED & READY (S4/PART 7)
RIPPED & READY S4/VII
Marco’s mental condition had me extremely worried. That disturbing scene back at the car had me wanting to bust my friend in his jaw for acting like a crazy ass deranged bitch. I mean, come on, yes your mother has taken ill, but is that a good reason to come unglued and act a “got-dayum” fool? Seriously, what good did all that do? He had people gawking at us like we were gorillas in a “got-dayum” zoo, and you know that a few of those crackers passing by probably thought that we were too — especially with Collin’s ashy ass looking as if he had just rolled over out of bed into that dingy ass white wife beater and those wrinkled up, baggy, hanging off the ass black jeans he was wearing.
Between Marco’s psychotic distraught outburst and Collin’s unkept physical appearance I was beside myself. When this blond-haired blue-eyed female gruesome twosome took an extra long time staring us down I almost lost my cool. As a matter of fact I did make a snide remark to show my disapproval over their gawking.
“Anyone ever tell you that you two resemble Cousin It from the Adams Family? I mean, damn, y’all need a serious make over — especially wearing them damn Birkenstocks with those loose-fitting, gaudy, cotton dresses…”
“I beg your pardon,” the taller one with the longer of the two long noses asked, scoffing.
“You heard what I said. Hell, this ain’t no damn Spike Lee movie, so quit staring at us like you watching a “got-dayum” show,” I said, curling up my lip to emphasize how annoyed I was.
When I saw her looking around, I knew she was most likely looking for a security guard, but you know what? I didn’t give a fuck. I was so sick of uppity ass white folks looking their noses down at black people — especially over here in Lilly White Ass Stanford. Yeah, I know, they had a black quarterback and I believe old Condaliza Rice worked at the college before, but that didn’t mean diddly. A black man walking around in this area of town would always be scrutinized by some white folks — it’s just how it is.
“D’Andre, leave them damn hoes alone,” Collin said, pulling up his pants.
I looked over at him and threw up my hands. “Nigga, no wonder they look at us like we’re thugs… do you even own a fucking belt?” I asked him shaking my head.
“And you think that snowflake is uppity? D’Andre, even though you are black, you act as though you’re better than darker skinned Negros just because you have that light ass hue to your skin,” He told me, holding his pants up with his right hand.
“I tell you what, ashy, I’ll by you a belt and some lotion when we leave the hospital,” I told him clapping my hands snickering.
“And I’ll buy you some fist so you can better throw them things since every time we have ever gotten into a fight I have kicked your natural ass…” He said, pounding his right fist into his open left hand.
I guess Marco had had enough because he exploded.
“Y’all cannot be serious can you? Here we are at the hospital… my mother is in their fighting for her life probably and both of you two inconsiderate assholes are going at it like we’re still in fucking grade school?” He pushed past both of us.
“Awww, Marco, I’m sorry…” I said, hurrying my pace to catch up to him.
“Fuck you, D’Andre… both of you motherfuckers are childish,” He blurted out, never turning around.
I heard Collin snickering in back of me. It was so like him to giggle at everything, because he stayed high as hell on weed. I wanted to turn around and bash him in the fucking nose but I knew it would further agitate Marco, so I took the high road and didn’t even acknowledge Collin’s snickering. He knew he was getting to me though because when I made eye-contact with him he made a funny face.
By the time we reached the waiting area where my parents were with Rafael, Marco’s temperament had returned to an eerie normalcy, which caused Collin and myself to look at one another baffled. One minute he was acting as though he was cracking up, and the next he was calmer than a pond in a quiet meadow. Either he was about to go several degrees to the left or he had really mellowed out. I didn’t want to take any chances so I had to inquire.
“Hey, brothaman, are you okay?” I asked him, with raised brow.
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled before he spoke.
“Yeah, I’m straight, D. I just hope my mother is doing okay,” He said, as he went and took a seat away from everyone else.
Collin walked over to where he was and sat beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. Now, you must understand, there had always been this rivalry between Collin and I when it came to Marco — even though both of us identified ourselves as being straight, we seemed to be in a silent tug of war for his affections. It didn’t make matters any better when I found out that Collin had hit that before I got a chance to.
“M6, Marco, M6 buddy,” Collin told him, as he pulled Marco into his body.
Resting his head onto Collin’s left shoulder, Marco sighed and closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry, man, she’s going to be okay. We are at the best hospital in the country, alright my dude,” Collin said, stroking the side of Marco’s face with his left hand.
That gesture of affection by Collin instantly caused the back of my neck to heat up. I’m sure that my mother and father were clueless about what was really transpiring between the three of us, so I really had to maintain my composure and not react. Collin knew very well what he was doing too. He had a way about him that made me question why I even called him a friend. There was always this competitive thing that went on between the two of us — it didn’t end with Marco’s affections — no, that was just part of it. Deep down, I felt as though Collin was jealous of me and my fair skin.
It takes me back to that time when we were in the eighth grade and this young honey by the name of, Alisha Harper, was digging on me. Collin wanted her so bad but she told him that she didn’t like dark-skinned dudes, and that was the biggest turning point in our relationship. Up until that point, Marco’s affections were the only ones that we battled for, but when girls got into the mix, it was on like popcorn.
Yeah, that’s when our paths in the road forked. It was Marco who kept us together, because he always preached about how fortunate we were to have a friendship that has lasted since we were little boys. “People wish they had what we had as far as friendship goes,” He’d say all the time, and we bought into like an investor buying a “sure-thing” stock on Wall Street. There were some intense moments along the road though — like the time we went to our first Spring Dance. Once again a sistah told Collin that he was a little to ashy for her taste.
Instead of him taking it as a cue to lotion his ashy self, he internalized it as black women were racist against dark-skinned brothas. Marco would always tell him that he needed to put the crack down. “Crack is wack, Collin,” He’d tell him, which made all of us burst out in laughter. It may not have been the cure-all, but laughter is how we always rose above those heavy moments but, like I said earlier, Collin has a real complex about his skin color. Didn’t that fool know that chocolate brothers have been in for years?
There was another thing that was annoying the hell out of me to no end. What the hell did fucking M6 mean? That fool even has a tattoo of it on his chest, and he always mentioned it around Marco, like it’s some secret phrase that only the two of them are privy to know about. I felt like an outsider when it came to certain things that went on between the two of them. How I consider myself a straight man is beyond me, and I suppose that is why Marco won’t give me the time of day anymore.
Confusion is nothing new to dudes like me.
Scared to be who we are.
We’d rather live a lie and sneak around in the shadows as opposed to stepping out into the light and living a full life without the confines a heterosexual shell. Marco Thompson and Todd Berry are both braver than I could ever be, because I just couldn’t deal with all that stigma attached to being openly gay. I mean it’s not like either of them walk around sashaying and waving a rainbow flag — they’re not like that, but still, if someone were to ask them if they were they wouldn’t hesitate to respond affirmatively.
Hell to the fuck no.
Shit, hell, fuck no.
D’Andre Washington has a reputation to uphold and like I said, I want kids, the house with the white picket fence and shit. Two dicks in the same household? I don’t think so. Grocery shopping with another nigga? I don’t think so. Walking down the aisle and getting married to another nigga? Hell to the fuck no. I mean, who in the hell is the bride and who in the hell is the fucking groom?
I’m telling you it just doesn’t sit well with me.
I’ll fuck around in a heartbeat, but live with another dude?
Author, G. D. Grace Literary Links:
“A Touch of Grace” Blog Talk Radio Show:
Author G. D. Grace reserves all rights and reproduction without written permission is not permitted. If found, legal action will be taken against the person(s) or company(s) that have cut or pasted (Plagiarized) any portion of this written document. Author, G. D. Grace; Published © 2011 February