The Book of Adam and Jo: an Interracial Literary Romance

by C. L. Donley

  “Yup,” I nodded.

  “Why?” she laughed.

  “'Cause you’re bein’ one, and I’m not afraid of you.”

  Jo laughed louder at my explanation.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?” she smiled.

  “I don’t, but if the truth hurts you, then this friendship has no future.”

  Jo just hurled herself over her entire steering wheel. She hit her car horn and it went off for a good three seconds. I just grinned as she laughed.

  “Where, in the hell, did you come from, Adam Kerr?”

  “Littleton. ‘Bout an hour from here.”

  Jo just kept on laughing.

  “You really need your own show. It probably wouldn’t last more than a few episodes. But you’d be famous.”

  “That sounds awful.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about this ‘growing up with blacks’ background of yours.”

  “I’m an open book, Jo.”

  “So I’ve noticed. But not tonight. I’m beat.”

  My heart just about fell to the floor and I knew I was fucked.

  Adam, you sick bastard. You can’t have her. She’s a single mom, she’s black and probably hates you. She’s a gorgeous statistic. Walk this shit off.

  “Your truck’s probably alone in the parking lot,” she said on the way back. It wasn’t until she said it that it occurred to me to worry about it.

  She pulled up outside the building, where it was indeed parked alone along the street corner.

  “You smell that?”

  The closer we got, the closer I could see the truck had been vandalized.

  “Shit.”

  She parked behind me and we both got out.

  “Is that bologna?”

  Some genius put bologna all across the stars and stripes. Along with eggs, and flour on the windshield.

  “What the hell? Campus Security didn’t catch this shit?”

  “'Sure they turned a blind eye. No reason to lose a job over some dumb fuck with a dixie flag on the hood of his pickup.”

  “Oh my God, Adam. I’m so sorry,” Jo said, sounding guilt-ridden.

  “How is it your fault? I’m kinda surprised any of these fuckers had flour on hand,” I tried to make light of it.

  “…I think it’s baby powder.”

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  “Shit. I don’t even go here, I could get us both in trouble. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Next time, you ride with me, Jo. Deal?”

  She saw what I did there, but she was ignoring it too.

  “Is it gonna be okay?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s only May and it’s 2 am. Gotta at least be midday to affect the paint.”

  “Well… it was a valiant effort. I guess,” she said. She found an old plastic grocery bag in her back seat and handed it to me.

  “Honestly, if these fuckers are the future then I’m scared to death.”

  Jo giggled. “I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”

  I shrugged. “Price of free speech I’ll gladly pay. ‘Least they didn’t fuck up my windshield.”

  “Yeah. You gonna be alright?”

  “Of course. Get outta here.”

  Jo got back in her car, started to drive off but then wheeled around me next to the truck.

  “Hey!”

  I turned around.

  “Maybe next time I’ll pick you up?”

  I couldn’t even hold back my smile. Now that she knows me a little better, she wants another helping of the Kerr-slaw. Honestly, who could blame her?

  But she wasn’t thinkin’ too far ahead if she thought I was gonna let her drive me around and hide me from the world.

  “Don’t know if you noticed, Jo, but I’m not big into compromising.”

  She gave me a big white smile. Her red lipstick was still bright and flawless even though it was about 2 am and she’d had a heaping plate of smothered hashbrowns.

  “Fair enough,” she nodded. I couldn’t tell if that meant the deal was off. But then she said, “Thanks for the hashbrowns,” and I figured that it was. Oh well.

  “Don’t mention it,” I said. She drove off and I was alone again. Wondering if that would be the last I would ever see of her. But somehow I knew that was impossible. And not just because I knew where she lived. And worked.

  I turned to my mess of a vehicle and sighed. “Fuckin’ college kids.”

  6

  Chapter 6

  When Adam showed up at her house unannounced the next week, Jo pretended to be put out by it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “In the neighborhood. For another week at least. Thought I’d stop by.”

  Judah came out from his room and ran up to them at the door like a rocket, suddenly stopping in the middle of both of them smiling big, his eyes two bright flickering candles. He raised his fist up high, suddenly, landing it in Adam’s almost-groin area. Adam let out a little groan and hunched over in a protective stance that was half exaggeration half instinct. Judah squealed with glee and made the wise decision that any man should make after taking a shot at a guy like Adam. He ran.

  Adam was after him before Jo could say anything. She closed the open door behind her.

  “Sure, come in, take a load off. Judah, Adam’s here,” she said to the empty living room.

  * * *

  “So, I know I said I’d try to give you three days next time, and I can’t…” Chris began to her over the phone the next evening. He was in D.C. with his bosses at YouVote, a non-profit organization that ensured minorities were aware of local elections and their voter registration status.

  Ever since Judah dropped the dime last weekend that Jo had done the opposite of “steering him in the right direction,” and started regularly letting him and Adam hang out, she’d been waiting for the other bitchy shoe to drop with Chris, and she was pretty sure this was it.

  “Judah was very chatty about this Adam character. According to him, it sounds like you’ve had some help. Quite a bit, in fact.”

  Bingo.

  “Fine,” she held her tongue.

  “So you don’t deny it? Please tell me you met another guy named Adam right after that, who was not a nazi.”

  “It’s the same guy. I finished the attic out for a week or two, made some good money. I promised Judah he could sit in the truck if we ever crossed paths again.”

  “Judah said he’s been to the house?”

  “This was all the same day, Chris, stop making a big deal. The job is done, and he was being very nice to Judah.”

  “Kindly tell this guy to fuck off, Jo.”

  “Fine. Just give me my three days. Next week.”

  “How about the weekend after?”

  “Okay. Can you do it?”

  “I can,” he kindly agreed. “Thanks for being such a trooper, Jo.”

  “No biggie,” she muttered. Ugh, God. He didn’t mean any of it. Some team building tactic he didn’t even notice was wearing thin.

  “So, did you think any more about my proposal?” Chris asked.

  “You mean your drug-induced fever dream about all of us moving to D.C.?”

  “Not right away. I have another year of school, you know that. But I’m meeting all kinds of connections here. Greg says he can get me in as a legislative staffer for a Congressman, easy. I’d start off as an intern. Unpaid, of course.

  “Of course,” Jo rolled her eyes unobserved.

  “But it would be easy to move up. Congressmen are constantly being picked off. A resignation here, a sex scandal there. Elected to a higher office. Death. ‘Course I’d probably have to prove myself first, move up the ranks. They say a Deputy Chief of Staff can make six figures.”

  “Isn’t D.C. one of the most expensive cities to live in ever?”

  “C’mon, you wanted to move to New York,” he made the point.

  “Yeah. But then I didn’t. And not to be an unpaid intern. I though
t lobbying was the plan?”

  “I wanna use my strengths, Jo, you know I didn’t get into this for money.”

  “Be that as it may… I can’t just uproot my life,” she sickly argued, a little disturbed that she was even considering it.

  “Now that you mention it, it may make more sense to wait a few years until I establish myself here,” Chris suggested as though he were having an epiphany. It was hard for Jo to tell, but it seemed real. “If anyone asks, I can just tell them I couldn’t afford to move my family just yet. I’ll just say, ‘D.C. is unreal.’ Great angle, Jo.”

  “…You’re welcome?”

  “That’ll really give me street cred, so to speak. The underdog, here for the people. I’m sure there’ll still be plenty of opportunities for you to DJ,” he said, continuing to rhapsodize, “If I’m running for Congress I’ll need you at my events. Boy, will they eat that shit up. Save me a ton of money to boot.”

  “You don’t plan on paying me for my services, Chris?”

  “Well… how would it look, the wife of a Congressman charging her husband to DJ at a party? Actually that’s not a bad angle either…”

  Jo heard the words husband and wife… and DJ….

  “Sorry… your what?”

  “We would have to get married Jo. Can’t just have an illegitimate mother and child floating around.”

  “….Oh, so… the ‘proposal’ was aalll the way literal.”

  “Welcome to the same page, Jo. Look, I know it’s not the most romantic but… me being an intern while you’re making money hand over fist at what you do, it doesn’t give me the greatest upper hand in this negotiation.”

  “True.”

  “You know me, Jo. And, dare I say, I know a thing or two about you. The love has waned a little bit… and I get that. That’s my fault. I know. But we work. I know all your shit, you know all mine. That goes a long way in politics. And you know I’m going places, you’ve seen it yourself. I wanna take you guys with me. Of course. I can’t imagine this with anyone else. This was always the plan. Judah needs his dad,” Chris played the baby daddy card for good measure.

  “Yeah… Chris, you gotta give me some time to think about all this.”

  “Of course. Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, um…. you at home alone right now?”

  Jo knew where this was going.

  “Yeah. No thanks to you.”

  “C’mon, Jo.”

  “Don’t ‘c’mon’ me. Even if I was in the mood for… that, we haven’t done any shit like that in a very long time.”

  “I know but… all that talk about our future. Finally being a family. You and me… it was good, right?”

  “…Sometimes.”

  “I got this huge hotel room all to myself.”

  Blech.

  “I hear the prostitution there is legendary.”

  “Don’t have me start on the wrong foot already,” he laughed.

  “That’s your argument for this right now?”

  If this conversation had happened two weeks ago, she would have a lot less willpower. Phone sex was not really her thing, but she never considered giving in to the father of her child as any unhealthy compromise. Sometimes it brought a spice that wasn’t there before. For her, there was always an open avenue for him to commit to them fully when he felt good enough, and stable enough. But time had made her more and more hip to his schemes and contracts. His furrowed brow of faux misunderstanding and his “we agreed”s. And she was well-trained in detecting all the many land mines in his manipulative language. He already felt good enough. He simply wasn’t interested in anything besides using her.

  When it was clear she wasn’t giving in, Chris sighed.

  “Mind if I think about you?”

  She felt a familiar stirring at her core that was now entirely forged from habit rather than desire. She was about to tell him that was fine, but instead, something else came out: “Sort of.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” he wondered.

  She didn’t know why she answered that way, but the fact that he was bothered by that tiny inch of resistance was enough to end the conversation for her.

  “Nothing. Enjoy D.C.”

  She didn’t have to put up with this bullshit. Going through his leftovers when he wished. Though she had to admit, he was right. Chris had always been a sure thing.

  He would be floored if he knew what she was thinking about right now. Or rather, who.

  * * *

  Jo saw Chris Montgomery for the first time at her college orientation seven summers ago.

  The fact that she didn’t recognize a single face her first night on a college campus invigorated her. She made friends instantly. She met a girl from Brooklyn, now her best friend Gretchen Gomez, who didn’t flinch when she found out she was a DJ (unlike everyone else in Leland) and filled her head with all kinds of lofty and dangerous aspirations to move to New York, find her tribe and make herself a space. A bunch of them stayed up all night in the dormitory lobby, eating pizza, laughing and talking and finding each other on Webster so they could keep in touch and find each other again when the school year began. Chris walked in solemn and rocking a beanie, and a fellow classmate from his high school called him out.

  “Chris, don’t be antisocial,” she’d said. Everyone was quiet for a beat to see if he would indeed ignore her. He did, stretching out on the couch at the opposite side of the lobby with a bag of Fritos from the vending machine. But it didn’t seem rude. He just seemed… kinda different.

  Hm, Jo thought to herself. He was above average in averageness, deep blue eyes, amazing head of hair. Kind of brooding.

  White, tho. White as they make ‘em. But he seemed to know that, at least.

  He didn’t so much as introduce himself the entire weekend, even when they attended a skating party on campus. But the party was full of upperclassmen and she and Gretchen were dutifully occupied, answering questions about their prospective majors and aspirations. At one point, she eyed Chris out on the auditorium steps, talking in the middle of a small crowd that had gathered.

  Hm, she said again.

  They finally met once school began, and Chris showed up to the first meeting of the Black Student Union.

  “Okay… what’s your deal?” she finally approached him.

  “Me? Just here to learn,” he’d said.

  Chris seemed, by all accounts, woke. He was fascinated by her upbringing in a long segregated town. For their first “date,” he suggested they both register for the same African American lit class in the Spring. Every Tuesday and Thursday they went to class, went to lunch together afterward and discussed it. She was giving it up to him before the semester was over. After that, they made sure to schedule their classes so they had enough time to eat, discuss, and fuck.

  Jo liked to approach guys first back then because she thought it’d be easier to trust them not to play her if they never had time to run game in the first place. An ingenious strategy at the time, but ignorant, where men are concerned. Not to mention she didn’t take into account the fact that some men were painted peacocks, that purposely made themselves seem elusive. She certainly never thought Chris would be the future part of a pattern she’d be puzzling over for the next five years.

  Gretchen brought up the memory one night on video chat. It was the first time they’d talked in over a year, even though it didn’t seem that way to the girls. But it didn’t feel any less long overdue. Gretchen had gone back up to Brooklyn after graduation but now she was in Chicago, engaged and doing freelance journalism while going to law school.

  “'Member when he was out in front of the Greer giving a speech on the steps like Abraham fucking Lincoln?” she laughed.

  “Always the politician,” was Jo’s knowing reply. “How’s Lee?”

  “Sexy. Ready for me to pick a venue. So what’s goin’ on with you?”

  “….I don’t even want to fuckin’ tell you,” Jo be
gan.

  “Oh Lord, what,” Gretchen winced. “Please tell me it’s man-related.”

  Jo dropped her head dramatically.

  “It is??!” Gretchen interpreted. Jo groaned.

  “Whaaaaaaaaat?” Gretchen pleaded with concern.

  “I need your attorney-client privilege on this one.”

  “Oh Lord, he’s not a murderer is he??”

  “Girl…. it’s worse.”

  Jo tried not to read too much into Gretchen’s long unbiased silences as she caught her up to speed. She appreciated her patience, but it was the quietness of a friend who was genuinely disturbed by what she was hearing.

  “He’s basically the human embodiment of conflict, so there’s that.”

  “So, what do you like about him?” Gretchen asked.

  Jo’s heart fluttered about, concocting her list in her mind.

  “Wooow.”

  “What?”

  “He got you grinnin’ up a storm?? I feel like I’m not getting the whole story here.”

  Jo put hands to her cheeks and laughed at her own unconsciously smiling face.

  “He’s just like no one I’ve ever met, that’s all. Every time we agree on something— anything— it feels reeeeaaal fuckin’ wierd in my mind. First time it happened it like, made my nipples hard and I was like, ‘what the fuck?’”

  Gretchen covered her face with a pillow, her shoulders shaking.

  “And every time he comes around it’s like…it doesn’t matter how matter-of-fact he tries to make it. He’s got a fuckin’ nazi symbol on his arm, you know what I mean!”

  Jo kept talking while Gretchen continued her silent laughter.

  “He fuckin’ wants to be here, you know? For some reason I haven’t quite figured out. ‘Cuz we’ve had those conversations. He still believes in the shit.”

  “But he likes you,” Gretchen clarified, once she’d caught her breath.

  “He does, but it’s more than that. It’s like… real respect. Instant,” Jo said.

  “Because you just approached him on a basic human level.”

  “Right.”

  “Hmmmmm….” Gretchen sat back in a position of growing intrigue.

  “Because he’s never tried to take it to a physical place. But at the same time I know he wants to.”