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Image for the poem Soul Mates: The Honey Trap Targeted Individual Script.

Soul Mates: The Honey Trap Targeted Individual Script.

The train ride home from my Physiology class at New York City Technical College was  very vexing. Even though I had great news before leaving class and the campus grounds the ride was crowded, and an argument between two women jostling for an empty seat which by the way I knew neither one was going to able to fit in because the two individuals who sat in the seats right and left were heavy set and they were overlapping into the empty seat. Finally after about a minute of pushing and shoving a Hispanic man shouted “why the fuck you too big ass bitches fighting to get into that little ass seat, can’t none of y’all fit in it.” I place my right hand over my face laughing while my left hand struggled to hold onto the iron bars  as the train rocked back and forth turning the corners inside of the train tunnel. I got off on the Franklin Avenue station and decided to wait and catch the following number four Utica Avenue bound train. I breathe a sign of relief and swung my back pack to the front. I opened the small pocket and pull out my final exam paper. A+ in big red letters it said written on the top of the upper right corner. I wanted to scream and hold it up in the air for all to see. The semester began kind of troubling but before mid semester I had decided to attend the free tutoring classes in three of the subjects that were giving me the most problem. Physiology, advance calculus, and behavioral psychology. I worked hard studying the coarse material, attended tutoring every chance I had gotten and even went a step further and did research on my own. I was motivated to make my first deans list and had accomplished that feat with a GPA of 3.68 during the spring semester of 1993. My GPA for the entire school year ended up being 3.489. I was excited and was not afraid to show my exciting. Looking at the different faces of students walking by and standing next to me I thought about if any of them were having the kind of year I was having. I was never the scholastic type, in fact I was just above average in term of  being scholarly.            
           
In High School I had to repeat one of my forensic class in the fall of nineteen eighty nine and graduated in the winter when I should have had graduated in the spring. The class was not offered in summer school and they would not allow me to take another class as a replacement because my High School major was forensic science and this was a core class. I was a disruptive student, disrespectful to the teacher and felt as if I could do anything I wanted and still receive a passing grade if I could strike fear into the heart of the class instructor. Needless to say that strategy did not prove to be a wise one and I received a falling grade which meant I had to attend summer school or repeat the class in the fall of nineteen eighty nine. I had decided to take a year off to figure out what I was going to do with myself. I was dee jaying and working as a dish washer at The Grand Prospect Hall (This is where they shot the ball room scenes in the movie the Cotton Club starring Gregory Hines) in historic Park Slope Brooklyn. I also attended a trade school studying to get my MCSE Microsoft Solutions Expert certification at a trade school in Manhattan. In the beginning of nineteen ninety one I enrolled at CUNY New York City Tech in their Graphic Arts and Advertising four year Production Management degree program. I thought about the long way I’ve come from being a mediocre student to now becoming a deans list student and graphic arts honor society member. I stood near the rear steps which head up onto the street, the churning of the turnstiles and the gush of warm air escaping the tunnel and onto the platform as the train arriving snapped me out of my wondering. This train was not as full as the previous one, I got inside and found a seat to the left of me next to the door. I was only one stop from home and I was also still holding my finals paper in my hand. The ride was short and at the rear of the train ended at the Schenectady Avenue and Eastern Parkway train entrance/exit. Usually this is where I would take the exist to head home but on this day something inside my head said to walk the platform and exit out of the Utica avenue side of the train station. I made my way up the stairs which a swarm of people and out of the station. As I crossed the street and made my way to Utica Avenue I thought about stopping at the Carvel Ice Cream creamy to get a few pints of my favorite ice cream flavors, butter pecan and pistachio on a whim. Remembering all the time my high school friend Trevor Craig use to hook us up with free ice cream when he worked there. I decided against it and found myself aimlessly walking towards my ex girlfriend and the first love of my life Patricia Williams. She was just standing there, a few feet from the news paper stand looking around as if she was waiting around looking for someone.            
           
This moment seem very surreal to me, remembering the similar circumstances when we met for the very first time around the same time of year in nineteen ninety at Opulent State University. For weeks my brother Lester who was attending the school would call me on the phone saying, “Nash I got the perfect girl for you, I have been telling her about you and how much I know she would like you once you get to meet her.” I chuckled followed by a “yeah right.” Then one weekend I went to visit him and we were headed to the Student union cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. He had to visit someone and I told him I would go on ahead without him and that he come and find me after visiting her friend. I was familiar with the campus because I had Dj’d many parties and social event for the Caribbean Students Organization. I would also visit him during spring break and during the summers while I was in high school. I entered the student union building and was making my way to one of the eateries when I found myself aimlessly walking towards this brown skin beauty who had just happened to be sitting on a closed counter of one of the snack convenience bars. The building lobby was empty except for the two of us. She was tall, had a beautiful face with dimples, broad shoulders, and lean with thick legs. Her hair was short and pulled back into a little bun at the back of her head. She wore these tight faced blue jeans with tears at right above the knees and a T-shirt covered with a blue jeans  jacket. I began speaking without introducing myself properly. After a few minutes I asked her name. “My name is Patricia and what’s yours?” Shocked, you don’t know the half of it. I felt frozen finally I uttered Nash. “Her voice was soft and young sounding, like she was thirteen trapped inside a grown woman’s body. Wait a minute I said my brother has been taking about this girl he said I would like and that name sounds familiar. “What is your brothers name?” Larry I said, but his nickname is Waxy. She screamed out loud, “wait, you’re his younger brother and you have a twin?” Yep, that’s me I answered smiling. Elated and surprisingly pleased we continued talking. My brother arrived moments later and found the both of us engaging in a delightful conversation. “I see you two found each other.” Yeah, responding to his statement. Patricia and I exchanged numbers and my brother and I went into the cafeteria to eat lunch. “That’s the girl I’ve been telling you about. How did you too happen to meet.” I saw her sitting there and I just approached her and struck up a conversation. “Really, she was just sitting there huh?” Yeah, it is the weirdness thing. We told each other our names but nothing registered until I said I’m Larry's little brother then we both realized who we were talking to.            
As our relationship began to flourish someone threw a monkey wrench in our exclusiveness. His name was Brandon and he lived on her floor in the Coed dormitory. Brandon seemed to be shy, he was chubby, about five foot nine inches tall, very light brown with pimples on his face and wore glasses. He was also the resident deejay and called himself DJ Magic, but was lacking self esteem and he latched himself onto Patricia like an emotional leech. Pouring all his insecurities and his need for attention and love heavily to garner her affection by taking pity on him. He was a nice guy and I’m pretty sure he was extremely nice to her. He was always calling her crying as if he was the reincarnation of weeping Mary, and she would always drop what she was doing to see him. He was emotionally crippling, stifling and manipulating her with his insecurities and sob stories. She probably didn’t think I noticed but I notice everything.            
             
I knew he was one of the reason she broke up with me. She was the very first girl I was ever truly in love with but I knew what was about to transpire. Even though I was hurt I was preparing myself emotionally for the breakup. One Friday I was on Flatbush avenue when her roommate’s boyfriend approached me. “What’s good Nash, check this out.” Check what out? “That chick is playing you for a fool B. I rang the room thinking my girl was there, but she was not.” Okay what are you trying to say. The phone must have fell while I was ringing it and I heard her fucking some dude. I heard her moaning and the dude was huffing and puffing plus the sound of the bed rocking was proof someone was hitting it. I also heard him smacking on her ass talking about I bet your man is wishing he was me right now. I had my suspicions but that was exactly what they were. I figured if she was cheating on me it would be with her ex man. After all when I came on the scene they had broken up some time ago. Funny thing though before we ever met I had just finished reading “Down These Mean Streets” by Puerto Rican author Piri Thomas. My mother had bought the book for a reading assignment for a class she was taking and she apparently left the book laying around on top of my one of my record crates. I was heading out to my Friday afternoon classes and walked passed my record crates in the hallway near the front door. I subconsciously turned my head to the right and noticed the book on top of an orange colored crate. I picked it up, placed it in my backpack then existed the apartment. When I returned home that night I ate dinner, showered, took the book out and started reading it until late Saturday morning. The book had me captivated, the writing was terrific, the story engaging and I spent the entire weekend at home finishing it. Now that I come to think about it, someone was trying to tell me something or maybe it was purely coincidence.            
           
I never really worried about anything, cause I never think about these things when I’m dating someone. I’m loyal, generous, caring, compassionate, loving and stern when I need to be. I’m also not afraid to act appropriately when the situation requires it. As understanding as I am there are times when I was like nah, fuck this shit and I would hang up the phone on either of them, should they call. The much older ex boyfriend, a drug dealing heroine/crack addict, womanizer, repeatedly in and out of prison, with alot of children was, I suppose the only person I should have had any concerns about. But nah, I was cute, smart, a rising star DJ and a damn good person. She was like his savior. For a young woman that is a tall order for anybody, but she loved the fuck out of that dude. She was always talking about his looks, being light skin, his cooly hair and having to help him, even support him at times. I literally took that to mean she was financially supporting him. How she did that in high school and her freshman year away from home in college with no job or perhaps she worked part time was a mystery to me. He was her first and she would do anything for him. That motherfucker was still lingering strong like Stetson cologne when leaving the club at six in the morning soaking in sweat but still smelling like a Stetson man. The thought had crossed my mind a few time after we had sex for the first time (was he pimping her and is he still pimping her). I was willing to be the kind of person that she would never want to run back to him for nothing. I wanted to supply all her needs in a man.            
We’ve had nothing but great times until the roommate’s boyfriend situation. I never said one word, I simply held my tongue. One night she called me and started talking shit about her roommate. “Who the fuck this fat nasty ass bitch think she is judging me. That bitch is just jealous cause no dudes be trying to talk to her at all. I can’t stand her guts.” I was like really, what happened between the two of you? “Oh just roommate stuff, you know how people get jealous cause they not on your level.” Okay, yeah I know. We spoke on the phone I believe it was on a Tuesday night and I went to visit her the following weekend. The train ride on the Long Island Rail Road from New York City Thirty Fourth Street Pennsylvania Station to Southampton Station, is about two hours long, and I usually read a book to pass the time. I carried enough clothes with me for a three day stay even though I was only staying the weekend. The LIRR is quiet and the views from the train as it travels on it tracks is breathtaking while traverse further into the eastern parts of Long island. The sight of dark tunnels and bumpy back and forth tugging of congested NYC subway trains with hard seats, hot subway cars compared to cushioned seats, plenty of leg room and a less noisy atmosphere was always a nice, welcome change of pace. I arrived on Campus late Friday night. The Southampton Opulent State stop is not much to look at, it’s just an elongated concrete platform with no passenger enclosed waiting sections. When I arrived my brother and one of his friends were waiting for me.            
           
I called her once we got back to my brothers room to let her know I had arrived. We talked for a little over an hour then I went to bed. Saturday morning we woke up and made our way to over the Kelly Dining Hall for breakfast. The building looked dated, built in a traditional sixty’s concrete cinder block architectural style. My brothers friend Will had given me his old student identification card which allowed me to basically dine for free. The cafeteria looked uninteresting and boring in its decor. It was a huge open area with round tables, chairs and a buffet food bar. There were a few cash registers for the students and visitors to purchase their food if they did not have a meal plan as part of their financial aid package. Lucky for me I got a hook up. Surprisingly the breakfast menu was kinda good. Scrambled eggs, omelettes, bacon, pork patties, grits, hash brown, french toast, regular toast, pancakes, waffles, cereals, assort fruits, jello, puddings and yogurts. I usually eat as much as I can in the morning to fill all my nutritional needs until the afternoon, which meant scrambled eggs with, bacon, pork patties, waffles, and yogurt to start. Orange or apple juice with milk, water and a fruit salad to finish. I hated the taste of coffee and cappuccino and never drank anything remotely resembling the two. My brother had an omelette with waffles, seasoned potatoes and a few cups of coffee. After breakfast my brother and I went off in different directions. He went to visit the Dean of the African American Studies Department who also happens to be one of his professors, and I went off to see my girl to spend some quality time.            
           
I arrived at her dorm room about a half hour later. When I arrived she seemed very distant. I mean we kissed, well she gave me her right side cheek and I kissed it, exchanged pleasantries and what not. We sat on her bed and I was trying to be affectionate but she kept shying away. I noticed she left her room door open the entire time we were sitting. Every now and then she kept leaving the room. I asked her why she was leaving but I knew she was going down the hall to see Brandon. I felt something was up. She had this smirk on her face as if someone had dared her to do something and the both of them were having a good time making a game of it. Finally she said those dreaded words that no one who is in love with another person wants to hear. “Nash, I have something to tell you.” Yes, what is it babes? “I need to take a break.” What do you mean take a break, like a vacation or sum’n? Before she could answer she left the room again and disappeared down the hall. I was sitting there scared of losing the first girl I was really and truly in love with. I’ve loved before but not like this. She came back to the door after the brief absence and stood outside looking in. “I’m breaking up with you,” she said. I asked her why she was doing this and if there was anything I did wrong and could do to make it up. But she just stood there looking at me as if she was looking at him down the hall while he was egging her on to tell me we’re through and to leave asap. I got up and left think damn, what the fuck was that all about. She could saved me a fucking trip by telling me on the telephone. Fucking snakes the both of them are, I screamed out loud into the open air as I existed the dormitory doors. I turned down a djing gig for this bullshit. I have never broke anyone’s heart and I was nineteen at the time. I was also shocked but at the same time I realize that this happens to many people who are in love. I was just one of those unfortunate bastards that it happened to.      
     
Fast forward into the future at our engagement period.      
     
*[I was supposed to dj at an event but the promoter called me on Thursday and said he had not sold enough tickets and that he had cancelled the event. We met Friday and he paid me half the money I was charging him to dj. My Saturday night became open and I had no other plans. I figured it was a good night to stay at home and relaxed after all I had not had a free weekend from djing in about three months. I also had not mentioned to my twin brother Chaz that the party was cancelled so he had no idea I was spending the night in. I went out Saturday into the city watch a movie by myself. My fiance had been busy and, we were not expected to see each other. I got home about one am in the early morning, showered and went to bed.  I had difficulty falling asleep and I was just basically laying down with my eyes closed.  Around three am I heard the bedroom door opened. My twin brother turned on the lights and walked in, then I heard a second set of footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw the both of them, it looked to me like she pulled her hand away from his. They both looked frightened and surprised to see me. Even though they were trying to play it cool she could never hide her emotions from me. As much as she use to say she knows me better than I know myself, it was completely the opposite way around. It was I who knew he better than she knew herself although I never pressed my observations of her actions on her.      
     
She was wearing a very short dress with light makeup on. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair in disarray. I lifted my upper body off the bed stretching my hand out reaching and signaling her to come next to me. “Hi Nash, I just wanted to come by to see your face and say hello.” Come give me some sugar and a hug girl. She came forward and sat on my brother’s bed. “Oh I’m hot and sweaty and don’t want to sweat all over you.” I was staring at the three thousand dollar engagement ring I had given her, and felt excited. I was happy to see her and was really trying to get affectionate with her but she kept pushing my hand away. “I said I was sweaty silly,” she responding giggling. I got a little suspicious when she became almost violently opposed to me even touching her along with the fact that my twin brother had a bad habit of dating a few of ex girlfriends and even tried to steal a girl I was dating by talking terribly bad, and lying about me to them in order to get in their panties. I inadvertently gave her a side eye then she said to me in a low voice after my brother left the room, "Your brother tried to put the moves on me." I said really. "Yeah." She then got up and exited with the quickness and I fell asleep right after she left the room. I was about to say to her that for a whole month I have not seen you and I barely heard from you. All this talk about you needed to study was the reason why you couldn't see me, yet I did not even know you were home and worst yet, you went to a party but you didn't have time to spend with me.           
           
I called her the female version of Captain Save A Hoe a few times because she would piss me the fuck off when she would get off the phone with me to go see him. Some girlfriend I said to myself, I knew he was hitting it but honestly I didn’t give a fuck and I wasn’t going to compete for her affections or quality time. I simply relished the times we spent together. I wasn’t settling, I just believed that we had arrived at our particular moment in the love stream at the wrong time. I was not her first love but she was mine. She had three dudes in her life and I did not need saving. The importance of being a savior to someone I suppose was more appealing than someone who was well balanced and did not have any vices, emotional issues or lack of confidence and self esteem. Yet here we were years later standing in front of each other. “Nash, what’s good man?” I turned around to the deep baritone voice. Hey Bobby what up. Next to Carvel Ice Creamery was Bobby’s Department Store. The space which the store occupied use to be an entertainment hall where dinners and parties were once held. Bobby had a store on the corner of Church Avenue and Utica Avenue. The store was very successful and he opened a second store on Eastern Parkway and Utica Avenue.            
           
Earlier during the summer before our meeting I had worked with my friends mother Mama Lee  selling Kirby Vacuum Cleaners and Fire Pro Fire extinguishers to small office related business around the Brooklyn and Queens area. This was only temporary because as soon as the New York City public pools opened I would be returning to work at my yearly seasonal position as a Junior Park Ranger. I loved working with the parks department because the experience was great plus I did not have to go looking for a summer job after the spring semester ended. That summer thought was different. I went for orientation and found out that the city had decided to end the Junior Park Rangers Program and was asked if I wanted to be part of the Pool Staff Custodial Team. I said yes. However once I reported to work at the same location for the second year in a row, Betsy Head pool in Brownsville Brooklyn and saw other Junior Park Rangers I became perplexed. Had I been lied to and for what reason. I did not make a big deal about it for it allotted me a few more weeks of extra pay. Also since my salary remained the same I figured what the heck, and did not make a fuss about the entire situation.
Written by thewatcher33
Published | Edited 1st Mar 2024
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