Knowing

by Rosalyn McMillan

  “Miss?” she said, panting as she placed her hand over her throbbing chest, “has flight three-o-three arrived?” Her eyes were fixed on the plane taxiing toward gate number Fifteen A.

  The flight attendant pointed to the schedule of incoming planes behind her. “That flight was delayed on the layover in Chicago because of the inclement weather. It’s not scheduled to land in Metro until eleven fifty-nine A.M.”

  Damn, what am I going to do for two hours? Ginger wondered in irritation. After a visit to the newsstand, she placed her purse on the vacant seat beside her, balanced her large cup of piping hot lemon tea on her crossed leg, and took out the Detroit News from her purse. She began reading the cover story.

  “Hi, baby,” said Jackson, bending down to kiss Ginger on the mouth. A large package bundled with brown paper crackled noisily as he hoisted it higher on his hip. “I wasn’t expecting to —”

  “I called Little Bubba last night and told him I’d pick you up. Surprised?” asked Ginger, eyeing the enormous bundle. Flight arrivals being announced over the speakers and the hustle and bustle of crowds of people uttering hellos and “I love you’s” added to the noise of the terminal. They were eager to get home.

  As they walked past the escalator leading to the baggage area, Ginger started to get on but Jackson pulled her back short. “Luggage won’t be in until this evening. I’m not coming back out in this weather; I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “You going to work in the morning?” asked Ginger, trying to match his long stride. She eyed the parcel again, waiting for an indication of who it was for, but received none.

  “Nope. I called in and took two more vacation days. I got a few things I want to do around the house. Something wrong, baby? You’re so quiet all of a sudden.”

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” she lied. She couldn’t take the suspense any longer, and blurted out, “So what’s in the bag?”

  “Something for my baby.” Me, she thought, smiling. “I hope she likes it.” She? “It’s a life-size Raggedy Ann doll.”

  Outside, Ginger’s face grew rigid as the cold air slapped her cheeks. The snow was coming down heavily. They headed for their truck, searching the parking lot for their vehicle, which was indistinguishable from the other snow-covered automobiles.

  “It’s over here, Jackson,” Ginger hollered. Her toes were beginning to freeze solid through the leather soles of her boots. Taking the keys, he opened her door and tossed the package on the seat. Then, he wrapped both his arms around her, kissing her softly on her icy lips. Brushing the snow from her hair, he stopped to kiss a single snowflake from the tip of her fluttering eyelash.

  She embraced him lovingly, dismissing her temporary jealousy about the gift for Autumn. She knew it was childish to feel so needy for his affection, but she was unable to help herself. She had missed him terribly. He was here now. Home. She probed his hazel eyes, seeing all she wanted to see — love.

  16

  Back in My Arms Again

  “Ooooohhhhhhh Lord, that’s it baby. Ahhhhh,” said Jackson, moving his lithe body sensuously above Ginger.

  “Let me wipe some of the juice off,” said Ginger reaching for the tissue at the head of the bed.

  “No baby, leave it.” Jackson panting, as he accelerated his pace, planting fiery kisses along her arched neck. Reclaiming her lips, he feathered his tongue in and around the warmth of her sweet mouth.

  Repaying his tantalizing kisses with a soul-reaching massage, she met his body’s rhythm, instinctively anticipating his thrusts. She felt him inside her deeper and deeper, until she herself was aflame with desire, shuddering in her own realm of passion.

  An essence of dark musk from a group of scented candles permeated the room. Melodic love songs flowed from the Nite Mix for lovers program on the console. Flickers of light bathed Jackson’s darkened flesh, his silvery sweat glistening like morning dew on a tender rose.

  He groaned as the walls of her passage tightened greedily around his throbbing member. It was as if she were draining him, weakening his defenses, as she gripped and released, gripped and released, until he exploded in ecstasy.

  Jackson lay back, exhausted, utterly satisfied, but not spent. He’d gained his pleasure three times and yet his erection gave no evidence of fading. His large organ stood at attention, as Ginger shook her head in dismay.

  “What’s got into you?” she said, still trying to catch her breath. She knew he had missed her and expected their sex would be stimulating, but my goodness gracious, she hadn’t imagined their union could reach the crescendo it had tonight. Yet, time and time again, he’d proven he could take her to a higher level, taking her to a world where their two souls could meet and rejoice in the harmony of their bodies.

  Propping himself up on his side, his lustful eyes traveled the course of her body. He stroked her thighs with his dampened palms, saying huskily, “You ain’t been that juicy in a long time.” His eyes begged for more, but her face, shining in the candlelight, glowed resistance.

  “And you ain’t stayed that hard in a long time either.” She blushed. She kissed him tenderly, outlining his full lips with her tongue, before whisking off to the bathroom. Jackson’s mouth had fallen open, and he was already emitting a faint snore by the time she returned moments later.

  She checked the time. A giggle stuck in her throat.

  Turning away from the clock, she straddled her husband, washcloth in hand. He was awakened by the soothing cleansing, as Ginger washed beneath his testicles, around, up and down his stiffened organ, inside his firm thighs where their dried love juices were still evident. Satisfied he was thoroughly soaped, she returned with a rinse cloth. Steamy smoke wafted from the piping hot cloth as she continued the ritual he loved.

  “Ohhhhhhh, baby,” he said in reverie, “that feels soooo gooooood!” He fell asleep seconds later as she stroked him until all the heat had left the cloth. She nibbled at his tiny dusky nipple, then covered his naked body. Clicking off the music and blowing out the candles, she disposed of the cloth in the bathroom, and went to do a last-minute inspection of her sleeping children.

  Making the arc around the circular stairway, she checked first on Jason, sleeping with his window cracked open, the cold February air cooling his half-nude body. She shook her head as she closed the door. Why he never caught pneumonia was beyond her.

  Christian was the exact opposite, snuggled up tight with his comforter, floating on a dream on the clouds of six fluffy pillows that surrounded his angelic face.

  Entering the girls’ room, she heard the faint sound of the music playing from Autumn’s Fisher-Price portable radio resting next to Sierra’s ear. As Ginger clicked the Off button, Sierra’s eyes opened wide. “Mama,” she said sleepily, “I heard Autumn peeing. She snuck some more pop after you and Monk went to bed.”

  Ginger turned on her heels, to stare at the small form in the matching brass bed. Autumn’s butt was raised high in the air, her narrow face pressed against Suzy Scribbles. Damn! I forgot to tell Sierra to remove her comforter, she chastised herself. Usually, Ginger would remove the beautiful white eyelet comforter and replace it with an old quilt from the shelf in their closet. The comforter was so thick that it wouldn’t fit in the drum of the washer and had to go to the pound cleaners. After five previous cleanings, which caused it to lose its fluffy fullness, she had no recourse but to remove the comforter nightly.

  As Ginger lifted Autumn from the soaked bedding, the child clutched her doll-baby by her golden hair and hugged her mother with her other free arm. Ginger carried her to their bathroom after grabbing a change of pajamas. Turning on the light, she had to laugh to herself when she spotted the large yellow stain on Suzy. It was a wonder Suzy didn’t speak up, saying, “Autumn, you pissed on me,” but Suzy hadn’t been able to talk in a while. Well, I’ll be damned, Ginger thought, the doll’s batteries got wet, and that short-circuited her voice box. Wait until she told Jackson!

  “You don’t understand how I feel, Randall,” said Kim, s
itting on the edge of her desk.

  Randall came up behind her and began massaging her shoulders. “You’re tense, you know that? You shouldn’t get yourself so worked up. I’ll talk to Cameron for you. Maybe I could —”

  Her shoulders stiffened at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She relaxed when they passed her opened door. “Don’t bother, Randall. I don’t think it’ll do any good. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “You should know that better than anybody.” Reaching up, she stroked his unshaven face. “And what’s the deal with this Don Johnson look?”

  He turned to look at her. “I’m letting it grow out. Like it?”

  “Sexy. Yeah, sexy. I wish Bill would grow one. I like a beard on a man.” She slowed her voice. “Feels good down here,” she said, pointing toward her crotch. They both laughed. Randall placed his arm around her shoulder just as Kim looked up to stare into Bill’s face.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Kim jumped off the desk, trying to assume a professional air. “Bill, you know Randall.”

  Hesitantly, Bill extended his hand. Randall placed his large hand over Bill’s, innocently placing his right hand atop Bill’s shoulder. Bill’s cutting glance prompted Randall to remove it immediately.

  Randall plowed his fingers through his hair nervously. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone.” He turned to address Bill. “I hope to see you again sometime, Bill.”

  Not saying a word, Bill stood staring at Kim as though she were naked. She wore a black double-breasted coatdress that stopped roughly four inches above her knees, a bit longer than her usual attire. Clad in black silk stockings, designer black suede pumps, she wore only one dangling silver earring, with a half-carat diamond stud in the other. Distinctly chic, distinctly sexy.

  She opened her mouth to speak, and stopped short as Bill threw the bouquet of flowers he’d held behind his back onto her desk and walked out. She caught up with him in the hall, and begged him to please listen. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d known about her friendship with Randall from the beginning. He couldn’t possibly think — but the coldness he showed her proved otherwise.

  She returned to her office and sat at her desk mummified, scanning the screen on her computer. The words jumbled together into a large black blur. Bill and she had been dating just under a year, yet it seemed like only yesterday she had told Ginger how much in love they were. Funny how one remembered only happy moments. In order to cope with the pain and anguish of the present, you had to let it go and just remember . . . remember when just a few months earlier their love was sweet, ever so sweet. . . .

  “You won’t believe it, Ginger. You just won’t fuckin’ believe it,” she’d sung into the phone.

  “Tell me. I could use a good laugh about now. We haven’t talked in a while. I miss talking to you.”

  “Don’t be so downbeat. Anyway, Dr. Bill told me he loved me tonight.”

  “He’d told you that before. . . .”

  “I know, I know, but that was before and this is now. I didn’t’ believe him the first time he told me, because we hadn’t, you know —”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Ginger wryly.

  “Uh-huh. But girlfriend, I believe him this time. I really feel we have a solid future ahead of us. I think this is the closest I’ll ever come to having the right man in my lifetime. I don’t plan on blowing it.”

  “And have you been faithful?”

  “Honey, Dr. Bill’s been throwing down on a regular basis. He can’t get enough of this juicy pussy.”

  “Kim, do you have to talk so dirty?”

  “I’m only talking to my cousin, what’s wrong with that? As I was saying, honey . . . this pussy is a cross between a Hawaiian pineapple and an overripe mango— Mr. Bill thinks he’s entered tropical paradise.”

  Ginger had laughed at her cousin’s description of her luscious body. She was consumed with her sexual abilities. Ginger had liked Bill immediately after meeting him at her aunt’s house. He didn’t seem anything like Kim’s other boyfriends. Maybe that was what attracted Kim to him. They say opposites attract. Here was the prime example.

  “Wait . . . wait . . . I forgot to tell you, as soon as I think Dr. Bill’s romped around heaven long enough, I wrap my legs around his back, lock my ankles, and start sucking on that dick like a plunger in a toilet, using my pussy muscles to suck every ounce of cum he’s got in him.”

  “Uh-huh. And while you’re performing your ass off, when do you come?”

  “I get mine, honey. I want to make sure he gets his.”

  “I was always told it was supposed to be the other way around,” Ginger had said, slightly amused.

  “Girlfriend, when a man leaves my bed, he knows he’s been laid, thoroughly.”

  “So that’s why you have a swarm of dates lined up at your doorway every Friday night?”

  “Don’t be catty, Ginger. I didn’t say I had the best ass in town — just in the top ten — and I’ve got enough sense to know you can’t get a man or keep a man with just sex.”

  “You coulda’ fooled me. I thought you thought you were going to screw your way to Beverly Hills. All you ever talk about is sex. Correction — that was until you met Bill.”

  “He’s really brought about a change in me. Quite frankly, Ginger, before Bill came into my life, I was starting to get bored with sex.”

  “You, bored with sex?”

  “Yessssirreee . . . me, bored with sex. Imagine. That’s why I know he’s special. He started with a totally different approach than all the others, and the killer is, that he wasn’t even faking about not wanting to have sex with me right away.

  “You know after we made love, I got a good look at his body. He’s really got a nice firm body. Not too muscular.”

  Ginger interrupted her. “I thought you loved those biceps?”

  Kim continued, “I did until lately. I used to like big penises too. But I’ve found out firsthand that Oscar Mayer wieners can be made to feel like Eckrich beef Polish sausages with proper guidance.”

  “Kim!”

  “I swear, he’s only five foot seven inches tall, weighs almost a hundred and fifty pounds, but that small piece of leather is well put together. The next time I see that commercial ‘Where’s the beef,’ with that little old White lady in it, I’ll be thinking to myself, If she hadda got a hold to this USDA choice Black Angus beef of Dr. Bill’s, she’d know where the beef was. Yep, Ginger, I think I’ve finally grown up.”

  “My, my, Kim. Somebody’s been praying for you, girl.”

  “You know, I just thought of something. Is it all right if I go to church with you and Jackson and the kids Sunday?”

  “Anytime, Kim.”

  “Truth is, I want to get married in the church and I’ve got to start visiting a church on a regular basis, or join one, before I can ask the pastor if I can have my wedding there.”

  “Lots of people get married in churches they don’t belong to. Has Bill asked you to marry him?”

  “No, but I think he will. For some reason I can’t explain why, I feel the need to have what my parents share — you know — that closeness. Might even join the church too, like Mama and Daddy did.”

  And now Kim’s hopes and dreams of a future together with Bill were like a bittersweet memory.

  Like the twilight fringe of the moon floats the dust of stars, and lovers soon to be dust soon become dreams. Dreams are wishes wished silently; desires held inside, visions of tomorrow’s yesterdays, fantasies we hide.

  Kim’s eyes filled with tears as the image of Bill marrying another woman sneaked into her thoughts. She pulled her eyes away from the computer screen and rested her head on her folded arms. Tears poured from her heart. All the emotions that had built up from her father’s illness, her mother’s odd behavior, and Bill’s rejection collided like a tidal wave.

  Randall peeked inside her office, but seeing the uneven rise and fall of her hunched shoulders, backed slow
ly away, allowing her privacy.

  Early Wednesday morning Mae Thelma made a telephone call. She managed to catch Jackson before he left the house, explaining that she needed to talk to him about Robert Earl. Mae Thelma told Jackson that she’d spoken to Robert Earl and he wanted to know if Jackson would come over and let his car engine run every now and then. He didn’t want the battery to die. That request from her husband, luckily, gave her the excuse for asking Jackson if he would teach her to drive.

  Jackson extended an invitation for Mae Thelma to ride along with him to pick up his luggage. He’d give her a few driving tips along the way.

  “That was a mighty fillin’ dinner Ginger cooked Sunday,” said Mae Thelma, looking at Jackson’s handsome face as they sped along the freeway toward Metro Airport. “I was so hungry my navel was ticklin’ my backbone. Didn’t know these women from the North could cook good ole down-home food like us southern folks.”

  “Yeah, she’s a pretty good cook,” said Jackson appreciatively. “Only thing she can’t cook good is egg custard pies.” He clasped the steering wheel tighter, weaving the truck between the slow-moving traffic. “The filling is good, but she can’t seem to get ’em thick enough.”

  Mae Thelma tucked that little information away for the time being. It would be helpful later, when she chose to use it. “I been apraying day and night for Aunt Hattie and Robert Earl. I was glad to hear that she came through her operation all right.”

  “Thank you, Mae Thelma.” He uttered a short sigh. “Seems like your prayers were answered for my mama, but not Robert Earl. Little Bubba told me last night he was sentenced to four to seven years in Jackson.”

  “Was. Monday morning a week back.” Her eyes were calm and clear; she’d cried for days wondering what she and her boys were going to do. She’d counted on him beating the case, and assumed he would be home before spring. Now she had to find another plan for her and her two sons’ future.