chapter 4

Denise inhaled a deep breath and got through her lunch with Derrick. Although she tried to focus, she couldn't help but hope that Jordan would be alright. That he would be ok. She half listened, until Jordan's names fell from his lips. This caused a pause in her thoughts. She focused in on what he what saying.

"...and with the clothes he wears, you could tell he grew up out here, I mean with that accent, he can't be from anywhere else." His gaze turned to Denise, "You actually went out with him?"

Denise brows rows, "What's wrong with him?"

"He just doesn't seem like your type, that's all."

"What do you mean, Derrick?"

"You know, he's..." Derrick racked his brain for a word to describe him, but came up empty. "I don't know. He doesn't even look like your type. His clothes was less than fashionable and what's with his hair? The creepy eyes."

Denise smiled, "Are you jealous of him, Derrick?"

Derrick cleared his throat, "No, I just can't figure him to be your type, that's all. I mean, he's not even doing anything with his life."

Denise's smiled dropped, "Some people have it a lot harder than others, he's had some pretty hard times over the years."

"Well, I think it's time for him to get up and start living." Derrick opinionated.

"And I think you need to stop right there before you put your foot in your mouth." Denise stated, her tone firm.

Derrick shrugged, "All I'm saying..."

"And what I'm saying is mind your own business. What happened with him is none of your business." Denise replied gruffly.

Derrick stared at the fire in her eyes, "Sorry."

Denise held a protective gleam in her eyes.

Derrick took a swig of the drink he'd ordered, "So, how serious was your relationship in high school?"

Denise glanced down at her half empty plate. "Serious enough."

"Did you guys stay together the whole four years?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Denise stated, her heart speeding up a bit, remembering those years.

"Aw, come on Denise, I want to know about the man who claimed your heart." He teased.

Denise looked up at him with a sigh, "I'm ready to go." Signaling for their waiter, who'd just put in a order for two guys at the bar next to their table, she asked for the check.

Jordan gazed around Nicholas room, staring at the stark white walls, cleared out floor that had been swept and vacuumed, along with the clothing cleared out of the closet, he felt the emptiness float over the room and work it's way into the crevices of his heart. He already missed the hazel eyed little boy. Swallowing, he flickered off the light to the room and turned toward his room. Glancing over at his mother's door, he stared. He wasn't ready for taking her things up to the attic. Inhaling sharply, he made his way to his room and laid down in bed, closing his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to Chicago.

"Who's Denise?" Carene inquired, as she glanced over at him, her pupils red from the weed they'd smoked. Jordan laughed, finding this the funniest question in the world. "Who's Denise?" Jordan inquired a glaze in his eyes, the smile relaxed on his face.

"Yeah, who is she?" Carene whispered.

"Why?" He pondered curious, staring at her sad looking face. He hated to say it, but Carene was one ugly chick. Big dough like gray eyes, a spacious gaps separating her teeth in every corner. Although she had a honey toned complexion, it was more than flushed out by the freckles that littered her body like dots. There were many times when he played connect the dots, just for the fun of it; just because he could. Her nose was way too big, taking up more than half of her face. This caused him to laugh. God, she was hideously ugly. If it wasn't for the fact that she was "loose" not really caring about whether he came or went, or the indifference in his attitude, he would've passed her up. Plus, she wasn't too bad. She did enough to distract him for the time being, at-least that's what he'd thought until she'd brought up her name.

"So, are you going to tell me who Denise is," she inquired, drawing circles over his back.

"Why? Did I call her name out while we were together or something?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "No, you did in your sleep though. I was just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat." He stated.

"I think you killed my cat." She whispered, a blush forming on her cheeks." For a split second, this caused his heart to skip a beat. Something in her voice reminded him of Denise. That's why he'd even talked to her.

"You think I killed it huh?" His voice was low and husky. This caused the girl's eyes to gather dark storm clouds, "Yeah, I think it needs an examination."

He gave her a seductive smile, causing her to forget about Denise, which was his intent. For a second time, her legs opened, inviting him in, and for a brief moment, he was appeased.

Jordan's eyes popped opened and he stared up at the ceiling, his heart grieved. He couldn't believe he'd used her. Not just her, but April, and Phyllis too. All three had been good girls, and even reminded him of Denise in someway, but after Carene clinginess, which left him feeling suffocated and April's bossiness, which left him feeling dominated over, and then Phyllis promiscuity, going from one man to the next like they were part of a freight train, he couldn't handle it. He needed to get away from them. All of them were nerve wrecking in their own way. He sighed and thought of himself silly to think that all those girls would feed the broken heart inside him, but they hadn't. He'd thought the weed would, but after Carene started lacing it with PCP and left him doing crap even he didn't understand, he'd quit. He had a hard time believing any body would sell him anything that wasn't laced. Swallowing softly, he turned to his side as he pushed aside the familiar ache in his heart. She was moving on, therefore, he needed to as well.

Denise flickered her light on and woke up around three o'clock the next morning. Going to the same desk that had been hers since she'd moved to Hampton. She'd found it at a local garage sell and fell in love with the oak wood material, that was shelved by a pin board, small loading shelves for books and then a bigger area in front, that was deep enough to settle her computer in. Sighing, she reached into a drawer, pulled out her diary, she wrote inside:

Diary,

I know this is silly, considering I'm twenty years old, and have gone through two of these books by now, but I can't help it. I need to write down my thoughts, my ideas, my feelings, everything in my life needs to go onto a piece of paper. I've found that to be very therapeutic over the years. Tonight, I'm going to explain to you what's going on in my heart, not thoughts as usual, but feelings...

I feel as though every part of me is going to burst open and I'm going to be left as splatter on the wall. That's how bad the ache for him is inside. I thought I'd settled that, but obviously no. Ever since the moment he's gotten here, I've been feeling like that young fifteen year old I was the moment I first saw him standing across the cafeteria watching me. It's kind of ironic how life plays out I believe. It's weird that when you first meet someone, you don't understand the force or full effect they will have on your life at that time. But, here it is four years later and I think I've grown to love him more than I had that day we were down in the basement. That day is among many that stick out in my mind. Is it possible to love someone even more than you did when you were together? Is it possible to want someone even more than you did the first time you ever were intimate? Is it possible to want to be with that person so much, that the ache in your heart makes everything else seem dull. The only time there seems to be any life in my heart, is when he near. The only time there seems to be any flow is when we are in close proximity to one another.

Even earlier today, as I watched him smoke that cigarette and the fire teasing in his eyes, I wanted to feel his mouth over mine. I wanted to be the instrument that he played. So, tell me Diary, why do I want to be in his presence? Why do I want to be where ever he is? I don't get it. I wonder if he'll ever get tired of me?

He seems so different than what he was before. He so much quieter than he used to be. He's not as dare I say- passionate as he used to be. Did I really suck the life out of him? Was the fact of him mother dying, and Nicholas death really kill who he used to be? I saw it in his eyes yesterday, that he felt inferior to Derrick. If there's anything I can say that hasn't changed, it's his eyes, the windows to the soul. He always allowed his emotions show through his eyes, so his body could be completely still, just as it had been at the restaurant, and I could read every emotion. With the exception that he gets severely pissed and then his eyes just cloud over with rage. That's one of those looks I wouldn't care to see ever again. I don't think I'd ever seen him as mad as the day I told him I was leaving.

I mean, the Lord knows, I'd gotten him really angry plenty of times before, but the storm that raged within his eyes during that moment turned them black. It got me so scared, I swore that was going to be the last time I'd ever breathed. But, no, he didn't kill me, he just provoked me by hitting me. If there is one thing that could shatter any fear, it was being hit. I had allowed myself to be controlled and abused by Lamont earlier in those years, but when I broke free, I promised to never again allow a man to yield that kind of power over me. It was in that moment I saw red and felt a pain that no matter how many times Lamont had hit me, it'd never come to the pain I felt when he hit me that one time.

Well, I know this is kind of an interrupted entry, but I must go, it's three thirty right now, time for me to go to bed, desperately.

That's all,

Denise~

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