I let him on top, gave him permission to take control. He let loose, and I was buck wild and free. Damn, it was so fucking good. I was moaning and cursing, delirious, crooning
oh Stephan
, chanting out irrational things. The more he gave, the more I wanted. Slivers of reality came and went, and in those moments I didn’t want any of this, but at the same time I wanted it all.
I wanted to pull him inside my womb. With my fingers gripping his back, my nails digging, my coochie making sounds of its own, I pushed my face into his neck and muffled my sounds of satisfaction, and let his moans and groans flow in a coarse solo.
After that, he passed out like he was on anesthesia.
Which was good.
That way he couldn’t see my tears.
The last week of May felt like the longest week of the year. Monday and Tuesday found me in Phoenix at a hearing. Wednesday through Friday dragged because I couldn’t wait for Saturday to come again. Electricity was running through my veins the way it does a six-year-old on Christmas Eve. I was living for the weekend, something I hadn’t done in a long time. Waiting for the day I was going to get away and spend a few moments with Tammy.
By seven in the morning I was out cutting the yard. Which wasn’t unusual because everybody had to get their yard work done before the heat moved in. Through the patio window I saw that Dawn had put on a golden skirt suit. I came back in and saw that she had packed up her open house signs. After that I heard her on the phone talking to Charlotte for about thirty minutes.
I watched the clock. Wondered why it was taking her so long to leave.
Finally she hung up and asked me, “What are you doing today?”
I told her that I had to drop off legal papers—three unlawful detainers and child-custody papers—with clients. One client was forty minutes east of us in Rialto, the other lived thirty minutes south of Rialto in Corona, down where the flies were the size of 747s and the smell of cows was stronger than Superman.
She said, “We’re heading in opposite directions.”
I agreed. Wholeheartedly, I agreed.
Dawn was gone before nine. She let me know that she’d be gone most of the day, that after she did breakfast with Charlotte she had an open house. After that she was driving out to San Fernando Valley.
I smiled a guilty smile.
* * *
Saturday afternoon. I was standing in the definition of heat. It had to be a hundred-twenty in the shade, and we weren’t in the shade. I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.
“‘Bout time Tammy brought you out here. I didn’t imagine you to be this big. You’s a big ‘un. Thought she said you was a little man, like Purnell. Nice to meet you, Bobby.”
Tammy cringed, held my hand, said, “This is Darnell, Momma.”
“Oh, shit—” Tammy’s mother blushed and dropped her head when she cursed. “Excuse my French. Nice to meet you, Darnell.”
Tammy’s mom was about five-four, with heavy breasts that hung to her waist. Thick legs, just like Tammy’s. Lila sounded Cajun, so they might be part Creole. She didn’t look directly at me, actually darted her eyes away when it looked like she might make eye contact.
Tammy let my hand go, shifted her stance, smiled like she was proud. “This is my talented friend who writes novels.”
“Oh.” Her mother looked me up and down, from my plain white T-shirt to my Levi’s. “A book writer.”
Tammy sounded nervous when she added, “He’s a lawyer too, but he’s an up-and-coming novelist.”
We were outside, standing in the dirt lawn a few feet from the front porch of a yellow bungalow. Standing in a furnace called Needles, out on K Street.
I rubbed my eyes, then said, “Nice to meet you, Miss Lila.”
“Just call me Lila.”
Tammy said, “Darnell, you all right?”
The heat had sucked the moisture out of my eyes. They were aching. Dust swirled in the torrid breeze. The front yard had dried patches of green and light brown grass struggling to get out of the ground.
I told Tammy, “I need some Visine. The kind for allergies.”
Tammy nodded, then said, “Where’s everybody, Momma?”
Lila said, “They’ll be here a little late.”
“Momma, I begged you to make sure everybody was
here on time for once. You know I have to get back to Los Angeles. Darnell has to work in the morning. I told you that.”
Lila spoke like Tammy’s wants, like my personal problems, were no big deal. “Margaux had to work. Beverly at home cleaning up. You heard about your little sister, Rhonda, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I heard she’s pregnant. Don’t bring it up in front of stepdaddy because I don’t want him acting stupid.”
“He’s at Margaux’s house.”
“What’s he doing over there?”
“Drinking with her husband.”
Tammy’s brows furrowed, and she snapped, “Purnell’s not supposed to drink because of his diabetes.”
Lila fanned herself. “Can’t tell him nothing.”
A little black girl was a house down, wearing white shorts, no shoes, out in the shade near a broken-down Pinto, entertaining herself by raking circles in the dirt. Across the street a shirtless, sunburned, potbellied white man with a layer of dirt on his skin was sitting on his porch sipping on a tall one.
Tammy asked her mother, “You finished cooking?”
“Just started.”
“What? It’s already two-thirty. You said we were eating at three, right? Darnell has to get back home. I told you that.”
Her mother said, “I worked the blackjack table this morning and I just got home. Turkey won’t be ready for a little while.”
Tammy frowned. “Why didn’t Margaux or Beverly help you cook?”
“Your sisters are trifling.”
Tammy checked her watch. “I need to be on the road by five.”
I added, “No later than six.”
Lila said, “Take Darnell out to Laughlin to the casino and let your friends see you with him.”
“I don’t have friends at the casino.”
“They always ask about you.”
Tammy said, “They
talk
about me, they don’t
ask
about me.”
We went inside the dusty white stucco house: a shotgun-style
two-bedroomer where one of the bedrooms was used as a den. Wooden furniture. Wooden floors. Turquoise sofa that had a recliner attached to the end. Framed pictures of American Indians on every wall. Dust on everything. Which was understandable because every time the door opened a dust bowl blew inside.
Cakes and pies. I smelled them all. Felt the heat from when they were baked. The air conditioner wasn’t on high; either that or it wasn’t working too well. A turkey was still cooking in the oven, and that heat was spreading from wall to wall, sitting in the room and hugging me like we were old friends. It was almost as hot inside as it was out on the pavement.
An oscillating fan was on, so I sat near that. That way every ten seconds or so a breeze raked across my face.
Tammy and her mother talked, but they didn’t touch. Didn’t speak in a friendly tone. Tammy sounded defensive and rushed.
Twenty minutes later, her stepdaddy showed up. A fair-skinned man. A couple of young brothers helped him in the house. More like carried him and the Jack Daniel’s funk with him.
He snapped, “I can walk my damn self.”
“We gotcha, Purnell.” That was the brother who had four top teeth knocked out at the gum line.
“I can walk by my-damn-self.” Purnell tried to yank away, but damn near fell. “Don’t need nigga hands on me.”
Purnell was gray-haired, six feet tall, rail-thin. There wasn’t enough space for them to get by, so I moved off the sofa and stepped to the side. Hot, dry air blew in from outside and sent me a whiff of his bulldog scent.
There was a lot of commotion, everybody talking at the same time, trying to keep Purnell from knocking over everything he staggered past. The small rectangular room had lots of furniture, plenty of Indian-style knickknacks, not much room to maneuver.
Tammy’s teeth were gnawing her top lip. She didn’t look at me. I had a hard time acting like this was normal.
But I did my best.
Nobody looked surprised but me.
I stood up. Purnell saw me, rocked side to side, tried to focus his eyes. “Who the hell this nigga?”
Before I could open my mouth, Tammy moved near me and said, “This is Darnell. My friend I told Momma about.”
Lila said, “He’s a lawyer. And he writes books.”
Purnell snapped, “
Who gives a fuck
?”
One of the brothers said, “Where you want us to put him?”
The other brother was staring me down, like he was the sheriff and I was a drifter in the wrong town.
Lila said, “Pookie, you know better than to be letting Purnell drink like that.”
The brothers laughed. “Can’t tell a grown man what to do.”
I was looking at Purnell’s crotch. Not on purpose. His green work pants had a dark wet spot. A spot that was getting rounder, bigger, and wider. And a whole lot wetter.
He went limp and fell forward: Right at me. Face first. Scared me. I jumped and caught him before he slammed head first on the wooden and glass coffee table. Held him by the shoulders, kept him at arm’s length so his urine wouldn’t splatter my way.
He screamed, “Y’all get me to the bathroom.”
The brothers laughed, then they turned around and left, just like that. Didn’t take Purnell out of my hands, didn’t say good-bye. They leaped off the porch, headed up K Street, and left me breath to breath with Purnell. I had to let him lean all of his funk on me and take him and his dead weight through the kitchen, walk his aroma past the food, to get to the bathroom. He grabbed part of the wall. I pointed him toward the toilet, and left him on his own. Lila went inside and helped him unzip his pants. He started to pee, and all but two drops hit the floor.
Lila cursed nonstop. “Let me let the damn toilet seat up first! I just mopped in here yesterday!”
I went in the living room with Tammy. Had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do in a situation like this. Her eyes had watered up, but she wasn’t crying. I said, “You okay?”
“That’s why I don’t like coming out here.”
Purnell screamed, “I need some pants. Get me some pants.”
Lila screamed back, “You see Tammy got her friend here with her for her birthday dinner and you acting up.”
“
Who gives a fuck
? This my house. My fucking house.”
They spent five minutes cursing each other out. Tammy
ended up in the kitchen stirring her own birthday food. I plopped down on the sofa, pretended I was mute, watched a news report about brush fires. I couldn’t hear the reporters because of all the shouting and cursing and things getting knocked over. Lila and Purnell were trying to out-vulgar each other.
Lila walked by with Purnell leaning on her shoulders, grabbing what he could to stay upright. He was butt naked. Lila scowled at Purnell. Both of them were swapping insults. Purnell glanced my way when he tottered by. Dropped his head. Started back cursing.
They had made it around the corner to the bedroom when Lila shouted, “I should let your ass fall down and learn you a lesson.”
“Get me some fucking pants,” Purnell said. Then there was a thud; he grunted and screamed. “You let me fall.”
“Damn right. Now do as I say. Stop acting up.”
“All right, we gonna see about this shit.”
“Purnell, you need to lay your ass down and go to sleep.”
Tammy was standing to the side, arms folded tight against her breasts. Her face was on fire, eyes swelling up like golf balls.
I asked, “You okay?”
Tammy shook her head, wiped her eyes and motioned for me to follow her. Then she yelled to her folks, said, “I’ll be back.”
“Where y’all going?” That was her momma yelling back.
“Outside.”
“You going ‘round to Margaux’s house?”
“No.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Hell, no. I don’t even know why you asked that.”
Her momma screamed, “The food’ll be ready in a little bit.”
Tammy put her fingers between mine and led me out of the madness and into the heat.
Out on the porch, I slowed her down a bit. Gave her a hug, tried to smooth whatever anger was mushrooming within her. I didn’t hug her long because, good or bad, right or wrong, it was too hot to share any kind of body heat.
She exhaled and said, “Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
“No big deal. Just another day.”
“It is a big deal.”
“Tell them that.”
To the left was a train overpass. On the other side of the tracks, where the street snaked uphill, a green Holiday Inn sign poked up and waved me down. Tammy’s irritated sigh said the same thing that I was feeling. After a four-hour drive, I could use a quiet, cool place to kick back and relax.
Two long hours later, the food wasn’t done. Tammy’s sisters showed up later than late, walked in within ten minutes of each other. Nobody had a present for the birthday girl. Nobody offered to help do a thing.
Beverly drove a cheap Monte Carlo with four-thousand-dollar rims on it, and wore denim shorts with flaps across the front, an outfit that barely covered her butt and showed off long legs with about a mile of cellulite dangling from thigh to ankle. Her belly hung over the top of her shorts. Gold lipstick and gold shoes. She was twenty-one, wore two pagers, one green, one pink.
When she came in the front door, the first thing she did was scream into the kitchen, “The food ready?”
Lila screamed back, “Almost.”
“Damn. Then why y’all have me come over if the food not ready? I was watching
Martin.
”
Tammy was in the kitchen, washing dishes, while her momma hustled and sweated. Tammy peeped into the front room, saw her sister, then stepped in and said, “Beverly?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you help momma coo—” Tammy did a double-take and said, “That wouldn’t happen to be my gold necklace you have on?”
“Don’t start nothing, your uppity ass.” Beverly had one hand on her hip, rotating her neck. “I don’t see why nobody cooking for you. You act like you don’t know where you come from.”
“I know where I come from.” Tammy had a look in her eye that said,
I know. And that’s why I don’t come here anymore.