Beautiful (1)

The city is called Olathe. Its a small hick town disguised as a suburb, nestled just outside of Kansas City, Kansas. They say the word Olathe means beautiful in the Shawnee language. Ironic really, considering what ultimately happened to the Shawnee at the hands of the white adventurers. I wonder if they told them Olathe meant beautiful before or after the land was taken from them. Its little ironies like that, that make Olathe a ugly place. Sure, on the outside when you are just driving through the place its real quite, its peaceful like, but when you get to know the people you quickly start to realize that even the most beautiful places can have some of the ugliest people.

My name is Nesta and in 2007 I lived in Olathe. It has been something I have regretted for the rest of my life. If I had told anyone what had happened back when I was in Olathe, I would have ended up in jail for a long time, longer than I need to think about. My life would have been ruined beyond recovery. All because I was young dumb and twenty-one. I honestly don’t think I should be talking about it now, but the statue of limitations has run up on most of the crimes and most the victims dont even know who I am, so I feel safe. Besides, somethings you just have to get off your chest, they bare on your soul, feels like a weight before God. None of this is to brag..well maybe just a little.

I had just moved out of my parents home. I had, had enough of being treated like a kid. Their moodiness, their strictness, their rules. So after they sat me down read the bible to me, and preached to me for more than two hours I was free to do as I pleased. I moved in with two friends of mine. A friend from high school named Paris and his cousin Hugh. I had actually never known Paris while we were in high school in Olathe. We had graduated a year apart, I met him one night as I was getting back from a late night of drinking at a house paryt. We were both on the rode in front of our high school. I knew who he was because I had become friends with his older brother who sort of took me under his wing when I was a Jr. He told me the ins and outs of how to stay low key and actually graduate. It was my first year in Kansas, that jr year. So anyway, as we stopped at the light I flagged down Paris and gave him my number and told him to call.

He never did, I met him again somewhere else by chance and that’s when we connected over a blunt. He told me that he was moving out of his parents house and that he and his cousin had an apartment they were getting ready and needed one more person to move out with. I mulled it over and decided that it was time to make my move as well.

I first met Hugh at the Ihop on the corner of 119th street. All three of us had just got done seeing a movie, and we were planning our move date. Hugh didnt say two words to me that first night. He was busy tapping into his phone. Even when Paris introduced me to Hugh, he just lifted his head slightly to nod a greeting. I didn’t think much of it. He seemed to have a serious attitude to him, very self absorbed and self important in his own right. He had an athletic build and looked like a sports model. He was a stark contrast to Paris who always wore a goofy and playful smile. He was shorter than both me and Hugh, and he was always talking or laughing in some way.

I was the last to show up and move in. When I got the last of my stuff in I actually and finally felt at home. I gradually started to ignore the constant smell of weed. Back then I was always a very flashy dresser. Slacks and a button up, always no matter what. Even if I was just slouching around the house. One of the first things Hugh did say to me when I moved in and put down the last of the bags was.

“We gonna make a nigga out of you.”