Characters

Apartment 343- The Swinger couple. They're a new couple. On the outside they are the model of perfection. Tori, age 25, has been a swinger for several years now. She and her boyfriend Craven,30 (a new swinger) just moved in together and are struggling to combine their new lives and sexual habits.


Apartment 705- The interracial couple. Tonya, blk, 37 is a successful business woman. She's working her way up the corporate ladder and left her black husband in hopes to further that.
Calib, white 31, wonders if he's a consolation prize for a burgeoning career woman. He loves Tonya and wants to marry, but hasn't told his family Tonya's black.


Apartment 211-The teacher/stripper.-Marsha is friends with the couple in Apt 343. In fact she was Craven's former roommate. She teaches middle school in Atlanta Public Schools, but strips in Augusta and surrounding areas where no one will know. She used to dance while she was in college and because of her need for the fast life, money, and drugs she found herself falling back in to old habits that eventually catch up with her.


Apartment 101- The maintenance man, Wilson. He's friends with both Apts 211 and Apt 343. He knows everyone in the complex. He would label himself a swinger, but others would just say player. He constantly has a revolving door of women and men in his life. Only Tori knows his innermost feelings about his sexuality.


Apartment 519- The lesbian college girls. Lisa and Leslie are sorority sisters at Spelman. Lisa is in tune with her sexuality and Leslie is curious about hers. You see their relationship go further into experimentation and how even the tightest of sistas can fall apart or tighten up.


Apartment 315- The self-proclaimed neighborhood watch. Mike was a brain surgeon turned cocaine addict. He gets most of his supply from the swinger couple in Apt 343. He sits at his window all day collecting disability checks, snorting cocaine and drawing on his walls. He's a major pest and extremely dirty,but he always pays his rent on time.


Thursday, December 13, 2007

Apartment 211

-Rent due in 28 days-


"Marsha Dorsey?" I stood up slowly and re-adjusted my red tank over my jeans. When I reached down to pick up my organizer on the chair next to me, I noticed the faces of the receptionist and the nurse beckoning me into the consulting room. It was like they were in on a secret that I was undoubtedly about to find out. I wish Rita was here. She always had a way of finding the silver lining in the clouds, but I had a feeling that a nor'easter was about to slam my shores.

When I made my way to the door that the nurse held open for me, she had a warm smile. Pettigru was her name on the tag. Nurse Pettigru was a petite woman. She probably couldn't get on a roller coaster without the attendant reaching for the measuring stick. She wore white shoes that made a slight click as we walked down the hallway leading to the doctor's office. We stopped just short of it at the blood pressure station. I guess to make sure I wasn't too nervous for my results and to make sure that I wouldn't pass out. She strapped me in, '120 over 70, good.'

Our walk continued. Suddenly I felt like a death row inmate making her final walk before execution. A sharp turn into a corner office, and the devastating walk abruptly ended. Nurse Pettigru smiled and closed the door behind me. I don't like closed doors. Especially when my track record with them consists of one firing, two write-ups and several HR meetings. You expect that in the teaching industry, especially when you do your job right.

I had never been to Dr. Murphy. Typically I only go to female ob-gyn but this time around I didn't want my gynie of 13 years to see me under these circumstances, too many questions to answer.

'Welcome back Ms. Dorsey. We have your test results.' I tried to read his face, pick up on his body language, but I felt nothing. He must do this all the time. It is Atlanta after all, I'm sure he's seen some the worst things nestled between some women's legs here. He opened a manila folder with a stack of papers inside. 'Gonorrhea, non-reactive.' He flipped the page. ' Syphilis, non-reactive. Hepatitis A and B, negative.' I gasped for air after I noticed I was holding my breath and wasn't breathing. He flipped another page and continued, 'Herpes, negative. Chlamydia, non-reactive. Ms. Dorsey.' Oh God what, 'Ms. Dorsey your test results from your HIV test came back reactive. That simply means that your body contains the HIV antibodies which are similar to HIV but the results are not conclusive. What I'm saying Ms. Dorsey, is that this is not a final indicator on whether or not you possess the HIV virus. Further testing will confirm or deny the test. We get people in all the time with false positive results...'

At this time I just saw Dr. Murphy's mouth moving, but my brain couldn't calculate anything he was saying. I just felt the blood rush to my fingers and my head. I felt like I weighed two tons and I couldn't move. I finally took a breath and I could still hear the doctor talking to me. I felt like I just landed back on Earth from another plane of existence, one where this was a complete nightmare that I was expecting to wake up at any moment. But I felt the cool breeze of the hospital and knew I was stuck in reality, my new reality.

He continued, ' Representatives from the Fulton County Heath Department will like to see you in the next few days. They've already been contacted and will need a list of all your sexual partners with their contact information. Ms. Dorsey? Ms. Dorsey?' I just stood up and walked out.
Posted by The Complex at 4:28 PM 4 comments Links to this post
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