The Stars and the Blackness Between Them

by Junauda Petrus

  We pulled up to the wood’s entrance that leads to the beach. Queenie put the car in park and before I knew, she swung to the passenger side, pulled me out of the car into her body. “Stop calling it nasty, dahlin’,” Queenie said. I was in she arms, and I instantly collapsed into tears. I felt like I did as a little girl, when I would be hurt and she would swoop me up and hold and rock me.

  She said she always knew who I was and it makes me special. She apologized for my mother. I cried harder when she said that. She started crying too, which made me scared. Fight come out of Queenie, before tears, but she was crying for me. I asked she if I can stay with her forever instead of going to the States. She was quiet, considering. “Dahlin’, I wish, I wish I could, me dahlin’, but I can’t cross me daughter. I love she, but I know me daughter. She will never forgive me and she will make your life hard. I ain’t know, gyal. Maybe it would be easier for you wit’ ya fadda.

  “But,” she said, “before I take you to me home, let’s go to the water and see what Spirit say.” And then she asked me if I had my pouch. I closed my eyes to collect myself and prepare for ceremony.

  AUDRE

  AFTER WE GO TO THE OCEAN FOR CEREMONY, we came to she house to make my next pouch, and then Queenie slip off to do something. When she come back, I’s in she big chair, curled up like a sick kitten, looking out the window, my new pouch tied to my thigh. She swoop down on the ottoman next to me and slap me ass in the silly way she do, even though I’m a mess and been crying. I sit up and look at her and she smiling big with her gap and she satisfied with sheself. She says she went by the pastor’s house and got a message from Neri.

  “How you get dis?” I ask, my hand is shaking holding the letter.

  My grandma steupse at me and rolls her eyes. Then, she leans closer to me and look me in my eyes in that way she do when she want me to understand she real good. “Ya think I ’fraid he?” she says simply, and steupses again, her eyes squinting and incredulous at the thought of fear. “Listen, gyal, there are those of us who have more persuasion than Jesus, especially to those in he flock, ya understand? And no pastor was always a pastor, dahlin’. I tellin’ ya,” she says, smiling. And then she winks. My grandma is magic. I start reading:

  Dear Audre,

  Your grandma is magic. I look out the window and I see she convertible park up. I hear my grandfather open the door and hear he giggling, and next I know she knocking on my door and tell me to write you something. She tell me you going to go live by your father in the States and she taking my grandfather on a ride in she new car and I is to be done before she get back. Jesus, I is shock at she powers.

  I love you and I love you forever. Audre, I ain’t know what to do and I feelin’ so sorry I pull you into this way. I have prayed for you and that your mother show mercy on you. I can’t bear thinking of how she vex and fighting she own child so. I can’t . . . I begged for Jesus to forgive me for my sins and help cleanse me of desire for you. I can’t explain how I love Jesus and you at the same time, but somehow it is true. I ain’t understand how God finally make sense in your arms and in your church. I think this is why this punishment, because I even at times loved our way more than the way of Jesus.

  They sending me away to family in Tobago and I begging them to let me stay and work in the church and show them I done sinning, but my grandfather say the decision is final. I is off tomorrow. I can’t believe your mother is sending you so far away. I thought Tobago was far, but the States? This break me heart to the core, Audre. I ain’t know if I will ever see you again and this hurt me heart even deeper.

  But if to love you means this punishment—this hurtin’ on my heart—I ain’t know why I still ain’t regret it. I love you still. I don’t know what to do, besides devote my life to Jesus and pray that I can purify my soul to feel the way I feel for you for him. I will pray for you to be safe. I will pray for us. Every time I look at water, I will be at church with you. I love you.

  Forever yuh rebel,

  Neri

  I look up at Queenie. My face soak up with tears and I shaking and all I can do is moan. Queenie wrap her arms around me and pulls me close to her and wipes my face. I shuddering in she arms and a breeze encircles us and I breathe the smell of my grandma, mixed with my island and the ocean and know I will miss that smell.

  LEO SEASON

  you that cool cat

  who bought the three-piece suit off layaway

  and wore the alligator

  Stacy Adams

  to the club so we could bask in you

  a yearning to be in the care of your arms

  the protection of your pride

  deep warm Bastet

  sun queen of kings.

  lover of lovers. generously ours

  bounding in power and flourishing

  in your softness

  you make the dapper divine

  and the royal real

  and you roar heavenly laughter

  all sweet

  a lioness sunflower

  full of seeds and heat

  you are an immediate feeling

  adored for your sensuality

  and fierceness and for the luxury

  of your smile

  Leo sun, wild for us hot for us

  to surround ourselves in your glow

  and sultry and burning

  MABEL

  “IMMA MAKE MYSELF GET THROUGH THIS.” That’s what I tell myself, even though I feel like I can barely lift today. I made one of my dad’s protein smoothies that taste like cocoa-dirt-flavored chalk. I needed to put something in my stomach so I could get through the workout, and that nasty shake was all I could figure out.

  In our basement, my dad has a bench press, some dumbbells, a big heavy punching bag, and a small punching bag that looks like a teardrop. We used it to practice fast jabbing like you see Muhammad Ali doing in one of the posters on the wall. We’ve also got a trampoline, jump ropes, and some kettlebells too. I used to chill down here and watch my dad work out, and eventually, he showed me some jabs and hooks. I was a natural at boxing, like he was at my age. Boxing is fun because you got to be smart and fast and powerful. I loved how my muscles felt after me and my dad would be punching and ducking and jumping and lifting and sweating, and then we would go eat a Popsicle together as a cool-down treat. Our little ritual.

  Lately, I work out on my own or come down when I want to be by myself and let off steam in a certain kind of way. Mainly, when I’m frustrated or mad. I just push my body really hard, and when I can’t go no more, I collapse on the futon and stare at the ceiling and feel my body buzzing from the effort. But I’ve been having a harder time getting through my workouts, and in the last couple of days, I haven’t been able to finish them at all, which has me worried since I need to get really strong if I’m going to get on varsity.

  Today, after just a couple of reps with the weights, I was tired. I decided to just stretch since I was feeling weird in my stomach, kinda like I was about to get my period, but then also like I ate something weird. For some reason, this whole summer, I ain’t been my usual self on the workout tip.

  I head up to my room to get ready for bed. I wash my face, put on my du-rag and pajamas. I get under my covers and start to scroll through videos posted by homies.

  Ahmed, my homie from poetry class, had discreetly taken a video of a drunk dude behind him on the bus who was sangin’ loud as hell, and beatboxing between verses. He added a filter that emits smog out of the dude’s mouth. The caption read, “Sanging Poison and your breaf smell like it too . . . #gotdamn #listerineworks.”

  Jada posted a video of her on the beach looking cute and twerking all silly with Nevaeh and blowing a kiss to the camera. She looks pretty and like she is enjoying her summer. Whatever.

  Next, I see a vid with my best friend, Ursa, doing push-ups w
hile the new homie Jazzy is gloating about how she beat Ursa in basketball.

  I think about posting something, but I don’t have much to show for my day besides my unsuccessful workout session, me arguing with my daddy for the gazillionth time about what clothes I got on for my summer job at the community center, or Sahir crying because Mama told him (again) he can’t put André 3000—that’s our cat—in his backpack for a bike ride. Ever. I decide to post a little video of a chrysalis that I found in our garden in the patch of milkweed, black-eyed Susans, and purple coneflower. My dad and I planted these to attract butterflies. I sat in the patch and chilled with the chrysalis for an hour and played it some Whitney while I read Wild Seed again. The almost-butterfly was just there, chilling and getting fatter, slimy and metallic and almost like it was ready to burst open. My dad calls this phase butterfly puberty, because they eat like cray and then they are in this cocoon that is awkward and internal. Yet they will bust out of it one day, grown and free. Besides the chrysalis, there ain’t really much in my life to post, so I put my phone down and put on some music.

  The house is quiet like I like it. I love my family, but to be honest, they all get on my nerves in one way or another most of the time. For real, for real. And it ain’t until it’s late when everyone is in their own room and not sweatin’ me that I can even feel like I’m myself. I listen to my music and snuggle up under my blanket in my own cocoon. My reading lamp is glowing through my covers and I look at my body under the tent I’ve made around myself. I got on my white tank top, my faded light-blue boxers with glow-in-the-dark dragons on ’em, and some black socks. It’s weird but I can’t sleep unless I got socks on, even though I wake up with them kicked off.

  Looking at my body, I watch my stomach grow and float up when I breathe in and then disappear behind my titties when I let my air out. I mean, not that I got much titties. Mine are medium-small bumps, and I hope they stay little ’cause Ursa got double-D boobs and she has to wear three sports bras when she plays ball and she hates it. Terrell used to like touching my titties and that was actually nice. He would just gently massage them, which was kinda calming. Neither of us had really done anything before, so we took things slow. I remember when we first kissed it was a hot mess. His mouth smelled like cherry Jolly Ranchers (his favorite “breath mint”) and his tongue was wet and big and all up in my mouth. I was trying to not gag. After a while, I asked him if we could hold off on all that tongue. He ain’t seem embarrassed. He laughed and agreed to back up on salamandering my mouth. Kissing him wasn’t bad, ’cause we was homies and he was real cool. It just didn’t feel big or exciting, which was weird to me, since we was boyfriend and girlfriend.

  Around the same time earlier this summer, Jada and I was kicking it and hanging out. She would come to the crib, and we would ride bikes and hang on my porch. We would just be talking, and I would feel something special whenever she came through, like a hot feeling. One evening, me and Jada was hanging out on my porch and the sky was getting dark with rumbling, which is my favorite way for the sky to be, that feeling right before it rains. I offered to walk Jada home before it started to storm so we could chill some more and feel the sky and air together.

  “You and Terrell are a cute couple,” she said when we was walking. Which I guess was true, but it seemed random for her to bring up, but maybe not random ’cause he was my boyfriend, I guess.

  “Terrell is a cutie,” I agreed, and thought to myself that he got cute qualities. He got a sweet smile and his butt sits high, which my mama said was why she could see why I liked him. It wasn’t why, but his butt makes it so that he walks with a little bob to his step, which I guess is cute.

  “But YOU cute too, thoooough,” she said, bumping me playfully, and I feel that feeling in my chest—that flip that ripples down my thighs to my feet when she is around.

  “Uh, um. Thank you, I try,” I said, wanting to sound chill, but I did actually try when it came to us kicking it for some reason. Maybe ’cause she is dope and fun and be flawless. I was in the bathroom for an hour getting my hair and clothes right. I’d even put on some of my dad’s bougie cologne before she got to the crib that day. She said I smelled good. She was always looking good and smelling pretty too. I didn’t bother being all extra with Terrell, since we always played ball and was gonna get sweaty anyway. And apparently, he likes my funk, ’cause once when we was snuggled up in his room, he put his face in my armpit, which was ticklish, and then he breathed really deep and said it smelled really good, which had me rolling, dying, ’cause I ain’t understand how he like my mustiness, but he really did.

  The sky was getting darker with clouds as we walked, which made it feel later than it was. I could smell the storm in the breeze, and it was making me feel tingly all over. And being next to Jada was making me even more tingly. Then she comes out the blue and says, “When I first met you, I wasn’t sure if you liked girls or boys. Especially ’cause I would see you in school with Ursa,” she said, glancing over at me while she strolled forward with her sexy swag I wish I had.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “Oh.” I guess me and Ursa hung out a lot. I wondered what about us hanging out made her wonder, though. We kept walking for a little bit and I was quiet.

  “Did that offend you?” she asked. I thought for a second and realized I was more surprised by it, but I couldn’t think of why I should be offended. Then I remember the raindrops started coming down slow, and one by one. A drop on my eyebrow, then my shoulder, then I see one on the sidewalk drop and then more polka-dotting the gray. And then another, was a cool wetness on my cheek.

  “I’m not offended. You was just saying what you thought,” I said. “Terrell is my first boyfriend. Most people had they first boyfriend or girlfriend in junior high, but I just wasn’t into that then. I guess I just be doing me,” I said, and feeling a tingle run through me every time her arm brushed mine.

  Jada was quiet, just listening.

  “We used to play ball all the time last year and I ain’t even know he was liking me until a couple of months ago,” I said.

  Which was for real. We was playing ball, a lot. A lot, a lot I guess. We would ball real good together actually. He is competitive like me but I be more focused and aggressive. Terrell, though, he play ball in a pretty way, like he is dancing and flying with a ball attached to his fingertips. He told me that he likes strong women, not girly girls and I was like, cool, whatever. And then one day he asked if he could hold my hand when we walked home, and it was actually kind of nice to hold his hand, although a bit of a shock too. After that we kinda just started going together. That’s when we started fooling around and making out and stuff.

  “When y’all started dating, I thought that was cute,” Jada said as we cut through the woods and along the creek right by her house. The trees and their leaves above us were being tapped by the rain as it came down. Then out of nowhere, Jada stopped by the creek and closed her eyes. Just all of a sudden. It was just us down there and she looked so beautiful in the woods. Her extension braids looked like the vines and branches all around us. I lowered my lids to match her, to see if I could figure what she was feeling.

  Next thing I felt was her arms around me and they pulled me close, which startled me, and I peeked at her a little. She was just there, eyes closed and looking sweet and pretty. And smiling a little, while my heart was beating so fast feeling her that close to me. Her chest was tied to my chest, her stomach against mine, our thighs become one tree holding us together. I slowly let myself relax into her and circle my arms down by her waist. I felt her heartbeat, and my heart was beating even faster. I started to shake a little. I closed my eyes again. Then the sky rumbled so loud I could feel it in the ground, rise up, and vibrate in us. The rain started to come down full—real sweet and fat, juicy drops. Even though we was getting saturated, we just stayed there holding each other.

  “I love the rain,” she said, and we were breathing an
d being with each other, letting the warm water from the sky surround us as we were wrapped up in each other.

  As sudden as it started, Jada unraveled slowly from our hug, and I was unraveled too. She checked her phone and then kept walking to her house, and the rain kept raining. The spell broke all of a sudden.

  We never mentioned anything about that day. It was kinda like it never happened. And we didn’t really hang out after that either. We texted every once in a while, but something wasn’t the same. I wondered if she thought I was too into that hug in the woods or something. Maybe I was. I ended up breaking up with Terrell too.

  And now, like a loser, I’m remembering the rain and our bodies being close like that. My body wants to feel her. Under all of my blankets, I touch myself, thinking of her and that walk in the woods. My fingertips graze over my tank top, making circles on my nipples, thinking of how good it felt to have her chest on mine and her face leaned on my cheek, how good she smelled. I slide my hands down under into my boxers and feel myself. I touch my little button softly, pulsing my hips into my hand, and breathe hard. My whole body gets warm and I start to moan, until it feels so good, my whole body overflows. Then everything feels quiet and gentle.

  I lift the blankets off my head and feel the air in my room cool down my face. When my eyes focus, Whitney is on the wall smiling at me. Her eyeshadow is bright and all majestic. Her eyes holding no judgment.

  I pull up my boxers, pull down my tank top, and get up and walk to my window. I open it up and slide down to sit on the roof of the kitchen. I look at the sky over Black Eden, and the stars are poppin’ and the moon is looking like an almost-closed eye, an almost-eaten slice of honeydew. It makes me remember one time my mama telling my daddy the name Black Eden is redundant since the first Eden was Black already. I remember my daddy giggled and nodded at the truth of it, but then took a moment to think like he usually do before he talk. “Of course, you right, Coco. It’s just that most people don’t know or—better yet—they try to forget that the first Eden was Black.” Then he thought some more. “And don’t you think Black Eden got a nice rang to it, baby?”