The Book of Adam and Jo: an Interracial Literary Romance

by C. L. Donley

  “And what about you?” Gretchen asked. Jo lets out a flurry of facial expressions and sound effects that made Gretchen crack up again.

  “I know that I shouldn’t. I mean… I certainly wasn’t planning on it. I was just being nice. Because he was being nice. To Judah. And Judah’s completely obsessed.”

  “So it’s really about Judah liking him.”

  “Sorta. No. I don’t know. It’s part of it, I guess.”

  “You say this guy’s a big dude?”

  “As far from my type as you can possibly get.”

  “Holy shit, Jo, I’m starting to not hate this.”

  “Nooo Gretchen, I need one of us to stay in the outside world on this.”

  “I’m just sayin’… I didn’t realize how much I’d been sleepin’ on respect until I met Lee. Now I can’t even come without it.”

  “We’re talking about a man that believes in literal white supremacy.”

  “But he’s hot?”

  “Girl,” Jo concedes.

  “Has a job.”

  “A good one.”

  “And he likes you.”

  “A lot.”

  “But he’s a racist.”

  “A racist in denial, which is even worse,” Jo rolled her eyes and rested her head on her chin.

  “So, what’s the difference you think? Between this one and Chris?”

  Jo sighs. “Whatever it is, it’s a big one, because they’re nothing alike and I’m pretty sure they would hate each other.”

  “Well, you know I was never a fan.”

  Jo sighed. “I’d give anything to be able to see what you saw.”

  “Hush. Judah’s the best thing that’s ever happened. But you can’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “Girl, don’t even joke about that shit. If I give in to this thing with Adam, it’ll definitely lead to a whoooole other set of mistakes.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’ve seen a lotta strange things. I wanna say this situation is rare, but it really ain’t. You know what happened to my Aunt Carol.”

  Aunt Carol was her mother’s aunt, who married an abusive white man. A cop during the height of the 60’s riots in Detroit. Both families disowned them, and when the abuse became severe, she had no one to turn to.

  “We’re not talkin’ marriage, Gretchen, I’m just thinking out loud. Trying to give this thing a little less power.”

  “Uncle Aaron was a sweetheart until the honeymoon, is what they say.”

  “And Adam’s a big dude. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Don’t even talk that way, girl.”

  “He’s got these nicknames for me,” Jo went on. “Depending on what he’s trying to tell me. I don’t know what made me think of that. He’s so good with Judah, and he’s not even trying to be.”

  “What are you saying, Jo?” Gretchen gave her a squint.

  “I don’t know. We can’t be any less compatible. He’s so… dangerous, I guess. That shit’s never been attractive to me but… sometimes I feel like I let my fears lead me to someone like Chris, who’s completely safe. Too safe. I went too much in the other direction, to someone who won’t even protect his own family. Which is just as bad.”

  “So maybe Adam is some kind of biological overcompensation?”

  “Damn. Maybe. A logical explanation for all my drenched underwear.”

  “Why’s your life so damn messy, Jo? You out of all people.”

  “Right? I started with so much potential.”

  Gretchen adjusted the monitor on her laptop while she laid in bed.

  “Well, I know you called me to be the voice of reason and talk you out of something that you know you shouldn’t do, but guess what? I’m not gonna do that.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I think you’re overthinking the shit. You like this guy. And you’ve always had… strange taste. You said yourself you’re not talking marriage. Sounds like you both know a permanent thing isn’t realistic. I think you should set some ground rules and go for it. Get it outta your system.”

  “And the ancestors wept.”

  “Well, you know what? I bet the ancestors would’ve liked the freedom to get into some messy bullshit without having it be life-threatening.”

  “Still. I have Judah. I can’t go throwing caution to the wind.”

  “Well, you already brought this guy into the house, right?”

  Jo hid her face in shame as she tried not to break down.

  “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad, hon.”

  “What, the fuck, am I doing? This isn’t like me at all.”

  “Listen. I don’t know many nazis hanging out with black women and their children, so I got no advice. He’s not trying to you know… take him out without you or buy him shit, right?”

  “UggghhmyGod.”

  “That’s a no, hopefully?”

  “Yes. As in, no. He hasn’t.

  “Then I’d say you need to stop being so hard on yourself. This situation is, to put it mildly, weird. If he didn’t have a swastika tattoo, would you still be buggin’ like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the way he… I don’t know. The attraction is like, nothing I’ve ever felt. Not normal.”

  “Daaaaayum girl!” Gretchen whisper-screamed.

  “I’ve been a mom for the last four years and nine months. I’m so scared that this thing is off the rails already and I’m just fooling myself. That fooling around I was doing with Chris last year was just enough to put me off men for a while, long enough so I can do this job.”

  “What job? You mean Judah?”

  “Yeah. And this guy. He’s just… trouble.”

  “Girl…you sound like we need to pray. Do we need to pray?”

  Jo giggled a little bit and then put a thoughtful palm underneath her chin.

  Gretchen couldn’t help her outburst of laughter when Jo responded soberly with, “I think we better.”

  7

  Chapter 7

  “Why you wear that European hair, Jo?”

  “'Cuz I like it. End of discussion.”

  Adam was back at Jo’s the next two nights. He even brought dinner so she wouldn’t have to cook. She had to anyway, since Judah didn’t eat a lick of it.

  Judah was already asleep and they were sitting on the couch, Jo on the far end with a glass of wine. Adam wasn’t drinking, but he was enjoying watching Jo get nice.

  “You ashamed of your hair or somethin’? You really don’t seem like that type.”

  “I don’t know if insecurities have a type, but honestly… maybe. Maybe I am. But it’s not because I’m black. I’d love to have crazy thick kinks like my best friend Gretchen, but I don’t. My hair’s just fuckin’ weird. It has two textures: dry hay, and wet hay. I think in a former life, my hair was a basket.”

  “I’m sure it’s beautiful au natural,” he said.

  “You’d be wrong. As soon as my mom let me have control of it, it was gone. I cut it all off in high school. Rocked the fade. Pulled it the hell off, too.”

  “I believe it. You look like you got the little pea head for it. I’d like to see those pictures.”

  “Everything I’ve ever done to it makes it fall out. My hair seems to like being in the dark. And seems to work the best when it’s holding on to other hair.”

  “So I can pull on it?”

  Jo gave him a wild look over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen to refill her glass. Adam’s heart skipped about three beats. She was definitely different now after a few nights of hanging out.

  “I just don’t see why you have to pretend to be white,” Adam said.

  He supposed he was trying to rile her. Trying to sabotage this, disqualify her in his mind. Things were snowballing quietly, an avalanche picking up speed on a lone mountain range. It didn’t help Jo seemed incapable of being riled.

  “You assume that. I’m actually pretending to be Asian.”

  “I see,” Adam grinn
ed.

  “Yesterday I was pretending to be Indian.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “Tomorrow I’m gonna appropriate Latino culture. Would you prefer if I rock a fake afro? Make me seem more ‘real’?”

  Adam’s brain was still short-circuiting replaying that little look from earlier, so he didn’t have a decent rebuttal.

  “I don’t know, Jo.”

  Jo gave him an exaggerated startled look and grabbed her heart with both hands. Adam rolled his eyes.

  “You alright? Should I call an ambulance? Any pain? Shortness of breath?”

  “I can admit when I don’t know something just fine, thank you very much.”

  “White people don’t own a hair type. Just like we don’t own skin color. Hard to admit, I’ll give you that. Of all the ways people augment themselves in the way that suits them, it’s probably the least invasive that exists in the world. And working like gangbusters, I might add.”

  “Not for some poor Indian immigrant across the world with a shaved head.”

  Jo just gave her hair a toss like a 70’s shampoo commercial. Adam just shook his head, until he finally had to laugh when Jo was still shaking it.

  “Looks good,” he smiled.

  “I don’t care what you think, Adam.”

  “I don’t care what you think Adam,” he teased her. He loved hearing his name at the end of her sentences.

  “So, tomorrow’s the last day?”

  “For me. Then we’re doin’ a flip near Charlotte, and Charlie’s working on another project back this way.”

  “So you really are out here a lot.”

  “Usually.”

  “Wonder why I never saw you before now.”

  Adam just shrugged in response. Jo launched casually into her proposal.

  “Well, if you’re around tomorrow, Chris is picking up Judah for the weekend.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Adam fought his mind as his body responded to her words. This probably wasn’t going where he thought it was.

  “And I also don’t have a gig this weekend, so.”

  “I see.”

  He stood corrected.

  Just in case he misunderstood, Jo drew the conclusion for him.

  “You’d have me all to yourself.”

  The air thickened and Adam went very still on the couch as Jo cleaned her wine glass and placed it upside down to dry on a dishtowel. Adam couldn’t smile, couldn’t even pretend to flirt. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  He did it. She liked him. And now she wanted to spend all her free time with this big tall drink of water. He was trying so hard not to gloat that it just shined through anyway.

  “Relax, Kerr. I didn’t mean it like that. Obviously,” Jo amended.

  “How did you mean it?”

  “I don’t know. What are adults doing on the weekends these days?”

  “Fucking, JoAnn.”

  “Wow, that’s still a thing, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well good for them. They still just… hang out, don’t they?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Well, that’s what we will be doing. If you want.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Jo just looked at him, shook her head and laughed.

  “Sorry, I was under the impression you were here every day this week because you wanted to be.”

  “I do.”

  “So why are you making me feel like a jackass right now?”

  “I don’t mean to. Just caught me by surprise is all.”

  “Well. Don’t make me regret the offer.”

  He couldn’t even pretend to have the upper hand in this negotiation.

  “What time we talkin’?”

  “No rush. Chris should be long gone by the time you’re done at work,” she said.

  “Uh-huh,” he replied skeptically.

  “No offense to you,” Jo rambled, “I just don’t want to hear his opinion about my personal life. And I won’t have to, if you two never run into each other.”

  Part of Adam wanted to get a good look at this guy. The part that was going to punch him on sight, no questions asked. And another part wanted to skip it. Seeing the man she’d chosen to be the father of her first child meant ultimately seeing something in Jo that he didn’t want to see. Something he didn’t like.

  But he sure as shit didn’t like this pattern that was developing of trying to hide him, as much as he understood.

  She couldn’t have known that he’d taken the risk and done the opposite since the day that they met.

  But she would.

  * * *

  I made sure my big ass truck took up the rest of the driveway the next day, so when that little skid mark showed up, he’d have to park his ass off the curb. I got to Jo’s door and Judah answered. Jo probably let him since she expected it to be “Dad.”

  “Hey, Adam!”

  “Hey, bud.”

  “Uh… what are you doing here?” Jo said, sounding shook up when she saw my big ass at the door.

  “Finished on time today. Took an early lunch,” I shrugged.

  “I thought we agreed you would be here after Chris picks up Judah?”

  “Did we?” I tilted my head like I was tryna remember. Jo gave me a very unamused look.

  I guess you could say my curiosity got the best of me.

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t just curiosity. Maybe it was a little jealousy. I didn’t think I was in a competition, but you couldn’t tell by my insides. This twat had Jo’s heart. Every time she talked about him, a little pang of disappointment cut through her tone of voice. And I really didn’t like that shit. Jo sheddin’ tears over this asshole. I needed to lay eyes on this guy to feel better.

  Turns out I got there just in time to see Chris pull up in his little Grand Am.

  “Of course this cunt drives a Pontiac.”

  “Fuck my life right now,” Jo muttered under her breath on the way to the door. She gave him a syrupy sweet “hi!” when she opened it.

  “You’ve got company I see,” he smiled right at me once Jo closed the door behind him. The smile was fake as hell.

  “Adam Kerr, this is Chris Montgomery. Chris, Adam.”

  I could tell by the way she introduced me that they’ve already discussed me once before. And Jo was acting… guilty. Caught. He gave her a looong ass look and almost got the shit smacked out of him. Because he seemed to think he was in some kind of place to judge her.

  Then he had the nerve to put his little soft ass hand out to me, and he almost got smacked again.

  What a bitch! Wanna know what I would do if some me-lookin’ bastard was at my woman’s house and I didn’t approve? You think I would just side-eye her and then extend that fucker an olive branch?

  I couldn’t shake his damn hand in good conscience. I just looked at him. But I was the big bad racist, so I didn’t have to do shit I didn’t want to do, thank God.

  Chris retracted his hand awkwardly and I could see his little cunt wheels turning. He was about to put on a little dog and pony show for Jo. One in which he was the better man.

  But I had the upper hand. He was the only one here who still needed to impress any damn body.

  “I’ll go get Judah ready. Chris, you coming with?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Good choice, Chris. When we were alone, this douche really started a conversation with me.

  “So… I hear Jo’s done some work for you lately.”

  “White people created Western Civilization,” I said.

  What was he gonna do, tell on me? Tell Jo that the white supremacist asked him some uncomfortable shit?

  “…Okay,” he said as if he’d just eaten a punch from a lunatic he was trying to sedate.

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “I… it feels like you really need to take credit for it.”

  “I don’t need to take credit for it, I just think true things should be acknowledged.”
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  “Alright,” he said, in that vacant, condescending way.

  The more I looked in his eye, the more I wanted to stomp him. He was worse than every man my crazy mom had ever brought home. At least those motherfuckers talked straight.

  “So you do believe that or don’t you?” I asked. “Aren’t you in college?”

  “What does me going to college have to do with anything?”

  “They don’t teach you Western history? Lemme guess, they teach you some made up melting pot bullshit?”

  “I know Western history. I just don’t know what you want the rest of us to do about it. Do you want a medal? Want a parade?”

  Us? So this dumbass isn’t white anymore, I guess.

  “Maybe. Everyone else gets a damn parade,” I said.

  “Listen, if white people are creating civilization just to be worshipped by everyone else, they’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

  A clever son of a bitch, good for him. But this asshole was gonna have to try harder if he was trying to handle me.

  “We create civilization because we can’t help ourselves. For people who want to enjoy it. Not take advantage of it. Shit on it. Complain about it when they didn’t sacrifice shit to benefit from it.”

  “…Like black people?”

  Gotcha.

  I didn’t make an effort to hide the smirk creeping up my face.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said.

  “But you were thinking it.”

  Project much, Chris?

  “Wrong again. I wasn’t even thinking about race.”

  “Okay, prove me wrong, Mr. Kerr. Just how does your white supremacy differ from all the rest of it?”

  “Black people have a right to America. That’s where the klan and me differ. To say the least. They’re a little bit delusional in that regard. I don’t see how you can blame anything on some people you came and got and brought over here. It’s greedy, lazy-ass crackers got us into that mess. Let the Jews talk ‘em into some bullshit, and now here we are. Can’t un-toast the toast.”

  “That’s… I… wow,” he said. Like a cunt.

  “Black people used to have pride in America, too. Now they don’t even have that. Because some degenerate sold them some “civil rights” bullshit sob story. Ain’t that some shit? Free-est fuckin’ country in the world.”