I was 18 when I first met her. I ran into her while visiting my sister's job and we hit it off on the spot. She told me her name was Crystal. We exchanged numbers, and soon enough, we began hanging out.
At that point in my young life, Crystal was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She stood about 5-foot-7 inches tall with gorgeous eyes to match a bright smile. She had long hair and spoke with an accent that drove me wild. To her, I was a novelty. I was quiet and shy. On occassion, during our conversations, I had that knack of saying something that would blow her away. We were two totally different people. She was outgoing. I was an introvert. She was from the country. I was from the city. She lived life fast. I liked to travel slow. However, those differences somehow brought us together.
"You're different than other guys," she'd say. "I kinda like that. I'm curious about you."
I'd make her laugh, but at the same time, I could make her think, too. She saw me as a challenge, an unknown territory she wanted to explore. We talked a lot and things moved swiftly. Eventually we got closer and began doing things that people usually do in a relationship.
But we weren't in a relationship. Her life was too wild for my tastes. So in that regard, I kept my distance. I was too young to deal with that kind of stress, I thought. So we had our cake and we ate it,too---with no strings attached.
We shared secrets and revealed things about our pasts. One day the conversation steered toward old relationships.
"So do you know Jamaica James?" she asked.
Sounded like some movie character to me.
"No," I replied. "Who is that?"
She seemed surprised.
"You don't know Jamaica James?"
"Who is it?"
"He's my ex-boyfriend. I had just broke up with him when I met you. He's a drug dealer. He still tries to come around, but I keep telling him I don't want anything to do with him. He's crazy."
I took her for her word. The news was kind of disturbing, but I shook it off. On Valentine's Day, I surprised her on her job with some flowers. She appreciated them. However, Jamaica didn't like the jester at all. I got a phone call from her the day after.
"Um, I saw Jamaica today," Crystal said."He came over."
"What's he talking about?"
"Same thing, trying to get me back," she answered. "I told him to go home, but he wouldn't. He saw the flowers you gave me. You should have seen him, he got mad. He was like 'Where you get them flowers?' I lied to him and told him my aunt gave them to me."
Once agan, I didn't sweat it. Jamaica believed her---or so I thought. A few days later, Crystal met me for lunch. She had some news for me.
"Jamaica called me today," she said.
"He won't go away."
"No."
"What'd he say?"
"He said that he was thinking and he knows my aunt didn't give me those flowers," Crystal said. "He told me that if he ever sees me with anybody, he'll kill him."
She took another bite of her food and smiled.
"But don't worry," she added. "He's not serious. He's just talking crazy."
She seemed so calm, but I was choking on my food.
Don't worry? Don't worry? This man just threatened my life and you're telling me not to worry? Don't worry?
When I got home that afternoon, I made up my mind I was going to leave Crystal alone.
But I didn't. We continued to hang out. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe he wasn't serious. In fact, eventually, I did believe her. The threats kept coming and Jamaica never went away. However, the two of us never crossed paths. So eventually I began to ignore them--until I visited my friend one night.
I had dropped by my friend Tyrone's apartment to catch up with him. Coop was already there. Shortly thereafter, Tyrone's cousin came by. I think he was between 28-30 years old. He liked to school us in the game of life. Over the course of the night, he began talking about his past experiences.
"I knew this dude, back in the day, this dude named Jamaica James," the cousin said. "That man was crazy--not funny crazy, but crazy, crazy."
For about 30 minutes straight, he told us stories about Jamaica James. Each one of them was just as terrifying as the last.
"There was this time Jamaica was at the house with his boys," he said. "And he got mad at his girl, they started arguing. She's pregnant with his kid. Jamaica gets up and he's hot."
The cousin began to demonstrate Jamaica's every move.
"Jamaica tensed up and smacked her, like this," he said. "She went flying on the couch. She tried to get up, but Jamaica went at her again and punched her. Boom! She went flying on the couch again."
"What happened to his boys?" Tyrone asked."They didn't break it up?"
His cousin looked at him as if he were stupid.
"No!" he said. "They were afraid of what he'd do to them!"
He continued his story
"Next thing you know, Jamaica is going to the kitchen and he grabs a butcher knife. He jumps on top of her, raises his knife in the air and yells 'If you don't do what I say, I'll cut my baby out!'"
The three of us sat still with horrified looks on our faces. We knew crazy men, but not Jamaica crazy.
"There was another time Jamaica got into it with this group of dudes," the cousin continued. "All of a sudden the dudes pull out guns and they start shooting at him. Jamaica pulls two pistols out of his belt and starts busting too. All of a sudden, they're in a gun fight. They hit Jamaica in the leg but that man didn't stop shooting. He fell on the ground, bleeding, but he kept shooting and yelling. His boys tried to drag him away, but he kept wanting to shoot, eventually they got him out of there."
In the early 90s, there was a shooting at Schlagle High School. That incident became the school's reputation for a few years, all the way until I got there.
"One day Jamaica was at Schlagle and he saw some dudes he had beef with," the cousin recalled. "Next thing you know, Jamaica pulls out a rifle and opens fire into the crowd. He didn't care who died. He was just wanted to shoot dude."
"That was Jamaica?" I asked with a stunned look on my face.
"Yeah, man. That was Jamaica," the cousin replied. "That man is crazy."
To my two friends, Tyrone and Coop, they were just entertaining stories from an older guy's past. But to me, it made me realize this man wasn't playing. I could die at any moment. My heart started beating fast. He really is crazy.
"Man, I'm kind of talking to this girl that says she used to date Jamaica James," I told the cousin.
He looked at me shocked.
"What's her name?"
"Crystal."
The cousin shook his head and looked at me as if he was seriously concerned for my welfare. He parted his lips slowly.
"If I were you," he said. "I'd leave her alone."
His face became serious before he spoke again.
"That dude's crazy."
When I left Tyrone's apartment I knew what I had to do. That was almost nine years ago. I never found out what happened to Jamaica James. Some say he got attacked by a group of guys and they cut his legs off, now he's bound to a wheelchair. Others say he killed a man and now he's in prison for the rest of his life. Another story said he was killed in a violent shootout. I really don't know what happened to him.
The only thing I know is I never called Crystal again.
---EOB.
No comments:
Post a Comment