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[writeopalskyy]

The Mood

We were notorious for throwing wild college parties. This time was no different. Meme, my best friend since the sixth grade, planned on bringing the weed—her latest boyfriend had a medical marijuana card. My twin brother Robert made last minute calls about alcohol for beer pong and shots. Darnell and I were in the living room clearing the fragile items to the closed off dining room area of the rented home. The entire time we moved furniture, Darnell avoided direct contact. Strange. 

I demanded his attention. “Hey you, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he said. “I got a lot on my mind right now, Raina.”

“Like what?”

“Just stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

“Nope, tell me anyways.”

“Just know tonight will be the night of change. I can promise you that.” 

“You think so?

“I know so.”

Darnell was right. The party turned out crazier than expected. Couples danced discreetly in dark corners. The kitchen served as the beer pong and shots zone. In the backyard Darnell, Meme, and I sat in a triangle, on the grass, as we passed joints around. 

Darnell released chimney smoke from his lungs. “Raina, how many shots did you take tonight?”

“I think…five shots, maybe six or seven, I don’t remember but I feel fine.” 

His facial expression blurred as the alcohol grew more intensive in seconds.

“You usually drink more than that,” he said.

“I am not an alcoholic!” 

The purple streaks in Meme’s hair illuminated against the lighter’s flame. She passed me a lit joint. “She hits it like a pro, right Darnell?” 

I produced great smoke clouds. Coughing was a sign of weakness.

“Yeah I noticed.” He wore his black sunglasses as if it was daytime.  

My body shot up in one quick motion. “I’ll be back.”

Darnell was right alongside me in the kitchen as we took more shots. 

“Bet you tap out first,” he said.

“Yeah fucking right. You know who I am.” I stumbled into his arms and we laughed. 

Robert was undefeated in his game of beer pong. I knew he was loaded by the way he gripped his girlfriend’s ass as if no one else was in the room. The way she grinned and kissed him on the neck only increased Robert’s ego. Eyes closed, he shot that pong ball in the red cup with ease. 

Then the perfect song came on. Darnell was much taller than me as we danced in the dark of the living room. He planted sensual kisses behind my ear and neck. My eyes were focused on the staircase.  I held his hand and led the way. Meme tried to stop me. “And where are you going? The party’s not over yet.”

“It is for me.” 

“Be careful Raina. Remember who he is to you.”

“I don’t know anymore. Meme, he’s so hot.”

“I know what he looks like and I don’t care.”

“So…who cares?”

“You will tomorrow.”

She never witnessed the way Darnell shut my bedroom door hard behind him. Being careful was not a concern of mines.

***

The pounding on my door woke me as noon arrived. A bit dazed, hung over, I found my robe on the floor, and proceeded to answer. 

“Yes, Robert?” 

“Quit whatever you’re doing. Get dressed. We have to clean up,” he said.

“Where’s Meme?”

“She’s passed out in the guest bedroom. You missed the fight she had with her boyfriend.”

I stepped outside and closed my door. “Did he hit her?”

“No, she’s good. She did the most damage any ways. He kissed some random girl.”

“Oh, alright…damn. Well, I’m going back inside.”

“Tell Darnell he can help too.”

I drove him away. “Mind your business, bro!”

Darnell awoke scratching his head. No, “Good afternoon,” “How was your sleep?” or “So does last night mean we’re official?” 

I noticed our clothes spread in random places. On my dresser, used condom wrappers clarified our situation. His silence stressed me straight to the bathroom. All the liquor from last night poured out from my soul as I vomited. I heaved and heaved and there he was helping me gather my composure, in his boxers. He used tissue to wipe my tears and excess vile around my mouth.

“Everything will be fine.” He put down the toilet seat, flushed the remains, and placed me on his lap. He held me close to his bare chest. 

“Last night, you told me you loved me. How you needed me forever and shit like that.”

Our eyes met. He said, “I know what I said. I meant it.”

“Please, you don’t know what you said last night.”

“And you know because…?”

I positioned my back towards him. “We had drunk sex, best friend.”

“And it was great sex, best friend. Why are you so surprised?”

“So what do you remember?”

“I remember more than you think.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

He kissed my neck, leaned against my back, with his arms wrapped around my petite frame. “I don’t have to.”

I pulled away. “Why?”

He reached around me to turn on the shower. “We can talk about it later, alright? Let’s shower and make peace.” 

Drops of warm water caressed our bodies as we stared at one another. 

“Why do you always feel like you never have to explain yourself?” I asked. 

“It’s been hard. You know things haven’t been the same since…”

“Since your mom–”

“Please don’t say it.”

“You’ve changed so much. Who are you?”

“We were sixteen when it happened. Was I supposed to remain the same?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s obvious, Raina. After the funeral what happened?”

“We cried.”

“What else?”

“We lost our virginities together. I’m still confused though.”

Pay attention. You’ve known all along. Say it.”

I hesitated. “We’ve been in a relationship this entire time.”

“Yes. Now turn around so I can wash your back.”

Any constructive criticism would be highly appreciated!

Comment below or message me directly. Thank you!

– Opal Skyy, theskyyisopal@gmail.com

[writeopalskyy]

Follow My Lead

It’s crazy what you can discover in your mind in a matter of seconds, minutes, and hours, days, months, maybe even years. I followed you anywhere you wanted to go. Holding your hand along the way, we captured a few stares. Some longing for that type of affection, others minds so twisted and bent that only jaded looks displayed across their faces. But I knew the truth; you loved me just as much as I loved you. If not more, but never less than what I deserved you shared with me. The moment I met Riley there was something different about her. It was all in the way she presented herself. Her golden brown hair was neatly formed into a fishtail braid. She wore a cream ruffled blouse with those high-waisted faded jean shorts you only find in thrift stores, and a pair of cheetah print flats. The way her pale skin shone against the sun as if she were an angel coming down to save me. Save me from the hell I’d been living since the passing of my boyfriend Miles. His death was ruled a suicide but he wouldn’t have done that to himself, to us. We needed each other. But then all it took was one look into Riley’s eyes, a deep grey that I’d only witnessed with one other person, him. I couldn’t let her leave my sight, ever. 

I even remember the first line she ever spoke to me, “Hey can I get a hit?” 

Riley had found me sitting near a disserted bus stop smoking a joint after our group grieving counseling session. During session, she had shared her story about her girlfriend Sam, who died in a motorcycle but I was way too high to share my opinion. 

“Sorry, I’m Riley. I’m quite bored with smoking cigarettes,” she said after receiving no response. I was still stunned by her bold demeanor. I couldn’t identify the reasoning for her randomness but I vowed to never forget the significance of that day. 

On a different night, she stood next to me, my hand cupped in hers as we waited in line to enter the restaurant where we were scheduled to meet her friends. It was going to be the first time meeting them so I was pretty high, hungry, and nervous. I truly wished the night ended before it got a chance to start.

“Are you okay, Terry?” Riley asked. 

“Yeah, I’m really hungry though.” More like petrified.  

I loved the way she laughed. It was thick like honey, full and whole, but sweet at the same time. “Well we smoked plenty before we came.”

“Yeah I know, that’s why I’m starving right now,” I said, playing with my lip ring. 

Sometimes I didn’t know what to say to her. Most of the time she did all the talking, whether we were alone or in a room full of people. She demanded everyone’s attention, while I insisted on being left alone always. 

“You’re so cute,” she said. Then proceeds to kiss me right there on the lips for everyone to see. I caught some stares but I didn’t care. “Don’t be nervous, my friends aren’t vicious people. Lesbian, yes. Vicious, no.”

Two young women with sweaters and jeans seemed to be moved by me and Riley’s performance. I may have been high but my hearing capabilities were quite impressive. 

“Ewww did you see that?” Green sweater said to yellow sweater.

“Yeah, not appropriate at all. There are children present,” yellow sweater said. 

The only child I saw present was lying in a stroller sound asleep. The mother sat nearby on a bench engaged with the activity occurring on her phone. She didn’t blink once. 

“Welp, I hope they like the heat,” green sweater said. “It’s plenty where they’re going.”

“She must be the guy in the relationship. Look at her wearing that flannel shirt, those ripped jeans.”

Green sweater chimed in. “And those doc martens. This is classic.”

I could have swore it was the year 2012, not the 1500s. These religious jokes do become stale like the hairdo green sweater thought she was rocking well.

The girls laughed and changed the subject. Meanwhile, I fought the urge to turn around and punch them both dead in the nose. But Riley squeezed my hand tight and pulled us through the line and inside the warm restaurant. The allure of bread baking, meat being prepared to one’s liking sent my taste buds wild. All I could do was smile when she introduced me to her friends as her girlfriend.

Out of the four girl friends Riley introduced me too, sitting there pretending to like this girl Jessica was the worst. The others were nice, warm, and welcoming. However, this Jessica person stared me down; her vibe read ‘interview’ instead a typical gathering amongst friends. The first thing she decided to ask me was, “So is Riley your first official girl friend?”

I played with my lip ring. “Yeah she is.”

“Oh how sweet,” I didn’t sound sweet the way she said it. “So then you were only dating guys before you met her?”

Riley interrupted, “Jessica, stop.” 

“No, its okay,” I said, but it wasn’t. If I were sober, I could picture the violent things I would have done to her face. Controlling my temper was like telling a four year old that Santa Clause didn’t exist. I was bound to react negatively. 

“Just let her answer the question Riley. I’m sure she’s capable. Go on Terry, speak.”

Playing with my lip ring, turned into tugging on it with my teeth. The frown lines that formed between her eyebrows definitely wanted to make a date with my fist for sure. 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Riley said as she held on to my hand tight, almost begging me not to react to Jessica’s ignorance. 

I did anyways, “I only had one boyfriend. He’s dead.”

Jessica had a smirk on her face as if I told her a bad joke. She leaned back in her chair and casually drunk her beverage before speaking again. “I guess that oversized flannel explains everything right? Not ready to let him go yet, right sweetheart?” 

Riley leaps out the chair and yelled, “You fucking bitch.” I was shunned by her instant aggression over me. 

It had been one year, five months, and sixteen days since Miles left me here to face this world on my own. His overdose took a toll on my ability to function in this world without feeling as though my body would shut down at any moment. Sure I had a mother, but our ideals on how I should live my life conflicted in such ways that I rarely came home anymore. I didn’t need anyone, especially this lame-ass Jessica girl dictating the degree of emotions I shared for Miles or Riley. So I left. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I ran out the restaurant and didn’t look back. Riley drove us here, so I just sat down on a bench and buried my head into my lap, sobbing. Moments passed before I felt her presence in front of me. 

“Come here. Terry, please,” she said. I looked up to see the tears falling from her eyes. They almost matched mines. 

“I just want to be left alone right now. Can you respect that?” No one could possibly understand the whirl of emotions that was taking place in my head. 

“No I can’t just leave you out here. You’re clearly upset and I feel responsible for it, so baby please just let me fix it.”

“Stop it Riley. Stop babying me. I’m eighteen.”

“And I’m twenty so what’s your point?” 

“Just leave me alone.” I didn’t want her to go anywhere. I buried my head into my lap again. The tears wouldn’t stop. No one could possibly understand how hard it was for me. The difficulty it took coming to terms with the death of a person I assumed I’d spend an eternity with to discover that the love I had in my heart beats stronger for her, and only for her. 

She sat down next to me and hugged me the best way she could in my position. “Fuck her, okay? She’s history to us. You and I both know the truth and that’s what counts.”

The truth was, yes the flannel shirt that I wore belonged to Miles. When she had met me the first time I was wearing his clothes, piercing in my lip, with straight-cut bangs to compliment my long dark mane with hints of green. When I wasn’t ready to give up his wardrobe she told me to keep them. She said, “I get that he’ll always be a part of you because he’s your first love. His image influenced you in a way that drew me towards you. It’s almost magnetic. I must be in love with you.”

Even if Jessica had knew that beforehand her bitchy attitude served no true relevance. 

“Like what’s wrong with her. Why did she come at me like that?” I asked Riley.

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s jealous, being overprotective; who knows, but she can’t scare you away from me. I have way too much love in my heart to let that happen. Today was a mistake, I’m really sorry,” she said. 

I could hear the voices of her friends near. I looked up to see them leaving the restaurant and heading in our direction. Jessica of course was the leader of the group. “I don’t want to talk to any of them. I don’t fucking care anymore.”

“Forget about them. I’ll deal with it later. Let’s go somewhere else.” Riley extended her hand out for me to take as she displayed a genuine grin. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

I gazed into her grey eyes again, the same grey pools that drowned me into her world many times before. No hesitation was made as I cupped my hand into hers once more. Our mold together was already hardened and stiff and at this point only God himself could tear us apart.

Any constructive criticism would be highly appreciated!

Comment below or message me directly. Thank you!

– Opal Skyy, theskyyisopal@gmail.com

[writeopalskyy]

Basquiat x Opal Skyy

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1/18th of my bookshelf.

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Street Affairs.

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Say Cheese!!!

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The healing recipe

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From my collection back home in Cali ☀️

[writeopalskyy]

Focusing on Spec Scripts this Summer 🌞

Would love to write a few and send them out to agents. Anyone else have similar aspirations? Let’s talk about it. 😊

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HEY UNIVERSE, IM IN THIS BXTCH! ✌🏾💜✨

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[writeopalskyy]

I just told myself yesterday I was working on spec script only to then start brainstorming for an entirely different project! 😭 #multitasking

Focus on one project at a time? Finish a project before starting another? Blasphemy.

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(x)

[writeopalskyy]

Charlemae Rollins, the children’s librarian at the George Cleveland Hall Branch of the Chicago Public Library, was one of them. 1941 saw the publication of her pamphlet of 72 books about black life entitled “We Build Together: A Reader’s Guide to Negro Life” and “Literature for Elementary and High School Use.” One of the first of its kind, the pamphlet listed books that depicted black life truthfully, called out books that contained stereotypes and established criteria for evaluating children’s books about black people.

Rollins argued that stories should not encourage readers to feel superior or inferior to other racial groups, nor should they promote nostalgia for the antebellum South. Rollins also insisted books avoid offensive language in reference to black people and avoid inauthentic dialect, which children had difficulty reading and understanding. The illustrations should not dehumanize black characters by exaggerating their features or playing into any stereotype.

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No one is above facing the law for crimes

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Pride was always a protest.