She drove to a house twenty miles over the Mexican border and waited in the designated parking lot. Minutes later she was shocked to find that the red rental car, scheduled to meet her, was empty.
As she approached the car, the smell of gasoline was strong. She looked in the open trunk and found nothing. There were no drugs. She searched under every piece of carpeting in the trunk—still nothing. Snapping the trunk shut, she saw the shadow of something inside the car.
Very slowly she approached the driver’s side. The door was shut, but the window was down. Then she saw it.
In the backseat a body was covered with a heavy, old blanket. One perfect hand was dangling out of the blanket—a hand she recognized immediately.
Sterling turned and ran blindly, driving her car through Mexico, back into Texas, and then north toward Michigan. She could smell the repulsive scent of burning flesh miles away from the victim—Bennie.
She stopped for gas and snack food. She used the rest rooms and kept driving.
She kept pushing Bennie’s burned body out of her mind.
Having nowhere else to turn, she drove straight to Horacio’s house.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Sterling?”
“Bennie’s dead.”
“You don’t think I know that? Get the hell out of here. The cops are going to be all over me.”
“How did you know that Bennie was dead?” Sterling was shocked.
“It’s a small world, girl.” Then Horacio laughed. “I used to work for Bennie, don’t you get it?”
Sterling got it. She was looking at Bennie’s murderer. She remembered Bennie telling her that he didn’t trust anyone. Now she knew why. “Did . . . did Bennie know I was going to Mexico?”
“Yeah. He found out—that’s why he went down there.”
“What do you mean?”
“He must have got the word that something bad was gonna happen.” Horacio laughed again, and Sterling realized Bennie had tried to stop her from getting mixed up with Horacio, who was clearly crazy. And he’d died for his efforts.
Horacio began looking outside, to the left and right of his door. “Now, you gotta go, Sterling. But where’s the money I gave you? I need the fucking money.”
The money? Sterling had forgotten about the five hundred thousand buried in her trunk. Think fast, Sterling, think fast. “It’s . . . it’s in the car.” Sterling was terrified.
“Get me the fuckin’ money now! I’ve got to get out of here.”
Sterling was frozen with fear, talking to the madman who had killed her lover. All she could think of to say was, “Can’t I get a hit? Just one? Please?”
Horacio gave her a hard look and then laughed. “You’re pathetic,” he said, and retreated into the apartment. Sterling followed him. He handed her a bag of heroin.
Drugs brought her life back into focus. Soon she was as high as heaven itself.
Horacio looked at her. “Now go get me the money from the car and stay clear of here.”
Sterling nodded in reply and walked out to her car. Dust covered the rental car, and she imagined she looked just as bad. She held on to her little white bag and kept walking. When she reached the car, she fumbled in her bag for her keys. Her hands were shaking badly. She was feeling faint. She wanted another hit, but she couldn’t do it in broad daylight. She sat on the edge of the curb and tried to pull her keys out of her bag.
Just then she heard a car pull up. She looked across the street as two men walked quickly toward Horacio’s door. They didn’t knock. They just barged through. She heard two shots.
She was already behind the wheel of her car and driving away.
Sterling stayed in her condo for a solid week. She didn’t answer her phone. She didn’t make any calls. She finished the last of the heroin and fell into a living coma.
MINK
Any and every child born into the world deserves all the dignity and respect there is—in short, love, which is not a privilege, but a natural right.
—KEORAPETSE KGOSITSILE
Y ou’re lying!” Mink screamed at Dwight. “You’re trying to confuse me again. They’re all dead, I know they’re all dead—I killed them!”
“Sweetie,” Dwight said, sitting beside her on the bed. “No, they’re not all dead. You did a wonderful job—you saved lives. If it weren’t for you, no one would have survived.” He cradled Mink’s head in his arms and stroked her forehead.
There was a tap at the door, and Spice came in. Dwight met her at the door.
“How’s she doing?” Spice whispered.
Dwight shook his head. “No better.” Then he left mother and daughter alone.
Spice looked at her daughter, her afro grown out to a full three inches now. She didn’t look like herself. Though Spice and Dwight had tried to get Mink to agree to let the nurses cut it, she wouldn’t let them touch it.
Usually, when Spice came in, Mink would turn away from her, sitting on the opposite side of the bed for most of the visit.
“I told you not to come back in here,” Mink hissed.
“Baby . . .”
Mink lifted her long legs from the bed and circled Spice’s stiff form, then stood in front of her. “Why you looking at me sideways like that?” Mink eased up closer to Spice now, with her head turned to the side. “Why do you flinch when I get next to you?” She was inches away. Her close breath warmed Spice’s face. “You think I’m gonna hurt you or something?”
Spice looked uncomfortable. “No,” she said steadily. “You don’t scare me. It’s you who’s afraid. If you—”
“Go slow,” Mink said, glaring at her, “I can’t understand what you’re saying.” She clamped her hands over her ears. “You’re trying to drive me crazy. All of you!” she screamed. Her eyes widened as she spoke in high whispers. “I won’t listen to you. I won’t listen to any of you.”
Spice sat at the edge of the bed, weeping. Then Golden was in the doorway. He looked at Spice and said, “Can I come in?”
“Who’s that?” Mink asked angrily. “A john? Like my father?”
Spice gasped.
“Your mother loves you, Mink, no matter what. No matter what she’s done, who she’s been.” Golden approached Spice and put his large hand on her back.
“Mink? Baby?” Spice tried again, reaching out for her daughter’s hand.
Mink looked into her mother’s eyes. She felt afraid.
“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re going to be fine, baby. Just fine.”
Suddenly, at the top of her lungs, Mink screamed and lunged at Spice, pounding her in the chest with both fists.
“Sterling told me that about you! Who’s my father, Spice?” Mink stared at Spice, her brown eyes bold in confrontation. “Tell me the truth,” she yelled.
Unable to speak, Spice reached for Golden in tears.
Then Golden said quietly, “Mink, your mother truly loves you. Forgive her trespasses, forgive yours. My prayers are with you both, Mink.”
Mink watched her mother and Golden leave her room. The cruelty of what she’d done to her mother made her cry.
* * *
Eventually her doctor found the right combination of antidepressants, which seemed to lift the veil of depression that cloaked Mink. She returned to the world around her, confused but not as damaged.
She and Dwight began to talk about her affair. Mink got in touch with her intense guilt over having slept with Harrison.
“But Dwight, if I hadn’t had an affair, I would never have crashed the plane.”
“Sweetie, the two are unrelated. You couldn’t help the mechanical failure of the plane.”
“But it feels that way, that it’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Not even your affair is all your fault. Remember, it always takes two.”
“You mean me and Harrison?”
“No, I mean you and me. I am just as much responsible for the disconnection in our marriage as you are.” Dwight paused. “Can I tell you something that Golden sa
id to me?”
Mink nodded in reply.
“He said, ‘All marriages are imperfect, and probably a disappointment in one way or another. That’s reality. Being in love doesn’t protect people from lust.’ I think he’s very wise.”
Mink smiled. “Yes, he’s very wise.” She had thought that because her affair was secretive, it was about dishonesty. It enhanced the thrill of the relationship. The secret sealed the conspiratorial alliance of the affair, making her relationship with Harrison intense, dangerous, and therefore exciting. Dwight had a secret. Why not she?
But Mink saw now that there was no safety in denial, but there was hope in admission. Perhaps now their marriage could be saved and might even be stronger than before the crisis.
“Dwight . . .”
“Don’t talk. We’ve both made mistakes. We love each other. That’s all that matters.”
“I’m sorry—”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. We’ve got a child. We’ve got a future. We can make it work.”
“More than my job, more than my life, I love you, Dwight.”
“And I love you, sweetie.”
“Can you forgive me?” Mink asked.
“Yes. Can you forgive me?” Dwight asked.
“Yes,” Mink said, crying. “So much has happened. Will we ever get back to the way we were?”
“Absolutely.” Dwight embraced Mink.
* * *
Soon Mink was released from the hospital. Her heart was hungry with need. Armed with medication, Mink felt strong enough to return to the tender love of her family. And after all that had transpired, coming home turned out to be wild, wonderful.
Earlier, Mink had tendered her resignation with Pyramid Airlines in writing. Although he hadn’t said so, she knew that Dwight wanted her to reconsider leaving the airline. Her decision had been impulsive. She’d known it at the time but couldn’t retract her decision—or so she thought.
When she arrived home, there was a registered letter from Pyramid, letting her know they all wished her well and hoped she’d consider coming back to work.
The Jaguar was parked next to the Blazer. Dwight carried Mink’s suitcase inside.
“You sure you can handle some rhythm today, baby?” Mink asked her husband.
“Sweetie, we’re past rhythm. I’m talking about percussion. It’s time I showed you that there’s a symphony going on in the Majors’ house—and we don’t need an audience, or any applause.”
Dwight put down her suitcase and carried his wife into the living room.
They were completely alone. Erma was shopping, and Azure was still at school.
He kissed her.
It had been so long. Dwight’s lips felt like toasted marshmallows, first soft and hot, then creamy, warmer and sweeter, the longer you kissed them.
Mink rested her head back against the cool marble. “Oh yeah,” she said, pulling him toward her.
They made love on the piano. Mink enjoyed the feel of the ivory keys against her buttocks. It was spontaneous on Dwight’s part. He undressed her while he played, then lifted her naked body up onto the piano. At first he played a short tune, then subtly he entered her, and they moved in harmony along the surface. The sound, the feel of the cold keys on her bare skin—it was wild, it was fun. They laughed together as Dwight balanced his body and worked the keyboard.
Later, Mink led him upstairs to their bedroom. They undressed in silence and went into the bathroom. Mink and Dwight sat opposite each other in the double Jacuzzi. The gentle rumbling from the jets pulsated around and over their nude bodies. Their eyes met over the rim of the fluted champagne glasses.
“Dwight,” Mink said, tracing her toe along the length of his leg, then blushed.
“What is it? Tell me.”
“Nothing, really,” she said in a half laugh. “I was just thinking about this morning.”
“It was good, wasn’t it.” He paused, then said, “Tell me about flying the plane, Mink. Tell me how you feel when you’re up there.”
“You’ve never asked me that before.”
“It’s time I did.”
Mink sipped the champagne and smiled. “The best part is the take-off. When I feel those wheels lifting off the ground, it’s a rush.” She felt herself getting aroused. “And then when I’m up there and the clouds are just below, it’s like visiting heaven. And I think, This is me flying this plane. I’m in control. I can feel the power of the engines starting, and hear the loud purring sound in my ear. My adrenaline is rising, and rising, and I feel so light, so free, so—”
“Sexual.”
“Yeah,” Mink said softly. She reached out and smoothed her hand over his smooth, wet calves. She could hear her breathing accelerating, and his eyes bored into hers. “Tell me about fighting the fire, Dwight. I want to know how you feel.”
“It’s a rush, similar to what you feel. The roar of the fire is seductive. You want to tame it, control it, calm it, until it’s quenched beneath your feet.”
Mink placed her hands between her legs as he spoke, as he described the feelings, and she closed her eyes, and she began to see, to understand the energy that transformed into power, the power that was sexual. She heard him speaking, almost whispering, about the rush of the water, the flames licking him, and the heat between them as he talked was building, building.
She felt him on top of her, sliding, gliding his body into hers. She opened her eyes and felt the taste of his mouth on hers. They moved fluidly, slowly at first, then faster, until Mink felt her body exploding. His body shuddered as he exploded inside of her, and she could feel the contractions of his penis, and the relaxation of his entire body as he surrendered himself to ecstasy. Feeling that singular sensation, Mink knew that Dwight would never belong to her more than he did at that moment.
The short adjustment period they went through before they resumed their lovemaking was eased by their intimate conversations about what they’d missed about each other.
It was so ironic; they talked a lot more now than they ever had before, even while they made love. Usually Dwight would find something funny to laugh about, and make her laugh, as they made love. And this would help to relax them and break some of the tension between them. Their love was growing and building; it was better and stronger than before.
Maybe Dwight was right. Maybe she’d think about going back to work. She’d give the idea some thought in the coming weeks.
CARMEN
Save the children! Save the children from dope, misedu cation, and poverty. Save the children from gang warfare and adult abuse. Save the children from the apathy and indifference and timidity of their elders.
—JOHN H. JOHNSON
L ike the joy of a leaf that unfolds in the sun, Carmen felt a new warmth in her heart. Ever since she had learned about Sterling’s pregnancy, it was as if her life had come together. Each child born into the world was a new thought of God, Carmen believed, an ever fresh and radiant possibility.
She’d given notice to the truck stop that she’d be resigning. She’d taken Spice up on her offer to return to the restaurant as second chef under Develle. She still felt a bit dizzy at the challenge that lay before her.
Many a night when Carmen wasn’t at work at the restaurant, she’d drive to Sterling’s condo. A few times she even went as far as the doorstep. Through the blinds she could see Sterling pacing back and forth. Carmen knew that scene—the baby was kicking. She wanted to knock, to go in, but she had so little to offer. She was afraid to be with Sterling—what would happen if she did the wrong thing? She would reach out her hand again to knock, but she wasn’t ready. So she’d leave, defeated.
Until the day came when she was suddenly ready. Eight months sober and more like herself than she had ever been. She tried calling Sterling, but the line was busy for over an hour. When the operator checked there was no one on the line. Without wasting a moment, she sped out to Sterling’s apartment. Something was wrong.
On the way, she turned
on the radio. There was an update of a story about an infant who had lost her foot to a Rottweiler puppy. When the incident occurred, the court had taken the child away from her parents. During the time that the little girl had been in foster care, she was learning to walk with a prosthesis. Now, four months later, the parents were petitioning the court for custody.
Hasn’t the child suffered enough? Carmen thought. The parents don’t deserve—Damn! Her thoughts strayed briefly to her own sad childhood.
Soon she arrived at Sterling’s condo. Out of breath, she rang the doorbell. No answer. Furiously she pounded on the solid wooden doors. Still no response.
Carmen checked her Timex. It was 11:55 A.M.
With her heart pounding at the pit of her bowels, she walked around the condo to peek inside the bedroom window. She didn’t care what the neighbors thought and hoped that they’d call the police. Just then she heard a weakened voice calling out for help.
Peering inside through the opened white miniblinds, Carmen wiped a clear circle with her hand and pressed her face against the window. From the angle of the bed inside, she could vaguely make out a small patch of Sterling’s blond hair.
“Sterling!” she shouted, banging on the window. “Sterling, baby!” she said again, pounding on the glass.
Carmen went back around to the front door and spotted a neighbor who was motioning to her.
Thank God.
Suddenly the rain poured down as she made her way to the neighboring condo. The downpour nearly drowned out her words. “The young woman next door has passed out. She’s pregnant. Please, can you please call an ambulance and the police?”
Holding back tears, Carmen ran back to Sterling’s condo. Her mind and heart racing, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to face Spice if something happened to Sterling.
Straining, and with rain running into the stream of her tears, she lifted one of the vases on the front doorstep. Her small body ignored the pain she felt as she heaved the vase and ran forward, plunging it against the glass into the bedroom window. Immediately the alarm system went off.
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