Authors: Sandra Kitt
“You look great.”
“You mean I haven’t before?” she teased.
“No, that’s not it. You have, but … you look
great,”
he repeated.
“Thank you. Come in.”
Leah led the way into the living room, aware that Jason was still staring at her. He reached for her hand and slowly turned her around. Such open admiration again surprised Leah, and unnerved her. Jason was so bold, so open with his feelings and thoughts. It made her feel that he was moving too fast and she couldn’t keep up with him.
“I sure hope this was all for me.”
“Only for tonight. Tomorrow I turn back into a pumpkin.”
“No, it’s the coach that turns into a pumpkin, not Cinderella,” he laughed.
Leah stood poised with her hands on her hips. “There are no black Cinderellas, Jason.”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
Leah only shook her head. She might have known he wouldn’t just accept her word for it.
“Never mind. Would you like a drink?”
“I think we better get going. The traffic is going to be crazy. Besides, my car is double-parked out front.”
“If you get a ticket, I know someone who can fix it for you.”
He frowned in a playful manner as he helped Leah into her winter coat. “You’ve been watching too much TV,” he said.
As they headed through the door Leah checked herself and stopped. “Wait a minute. I almost forgot the champagne.”
She ran back to get the silver-wrapped bottle from the dining room table.
Jason’s car was an older model Volvo that looked like it might have been red at one point. It was now a combination of scratches, rust, dents, and dried mud. The interior was black and the backseat was piled with an assortment of papers, sweats, and sports gear. He politely helped her into the front, hastily flipping a book that had been on the passenger seat into the back. As they moved into traffic, Leah suddenly pulled off Jason’s red cap and added it to the pile behind them. Jason laughed and combed his hair with his fingers.
Leah settled in her seat to enjoy the ride as they headed toward the expressway. Jason, reading her thoughts, offered, “We’re headed for New Hyde Park. You don’t have to get back to Brooklyn too early, do you?”
“There’s no place I have to be until Monday morning,” she found herself saying.
He looked quickly at her before once more concentrating on the road. He was quiet while he drove, and Leah wondered what he was thinking. It occurred to her that there had been no initial awkward moments between them. Jason had come for her and they had left the house together as if this was okay, and they were now used to being together.
The room was smoke-filled and noisy. There were small groups of people sitting on any available flat surface, including the floor. Leah had a glass of white wine, and she sat on a stool in front of Nora Wagner, listening as the woman described all her Christmas gifts. Nora was a big woman. She wore glasses and sported three pairs of earrings. She had a boisterous laugh and a hacking smoker’s cough. Leah had liked her instantly.
It was from Nora that she learned that the kind of work Joe and Jason did was not as benign as just working with kids in jeopardy. Nora was a concerned cop’s wife. She was stoic, sometimes flippant, but it was clear to Leah that she masked her worry from Joe, who went out every day with no certainty that he would return at night.
It was one thing for Jason to tell her he was a cop. It was quite another for Leah to make the connection between the newspaper horror stories, the violence, the danger, and Jason. There were men and women here from his precinct, an odd collection of individuals who looked like they had nowhere else to go. Leah could believe that they didn’t. And it was odd to see holstered guns casually worn as part of their normal daily attire.
Joe had greeted her and Jason at the door. Leah remembered Joe from the parked black car that had waited at the curb the first time she’d officially met Jason. Behind the wheel Joe had seemed cold. He wasn’t that much warmer now. Almost immediately he started calling her Brooklyn.
“My name’s Leah.”
“Hey …” Joe said expansively. “What’s in a name?”
Everyone seemed to know Jason, and he was quickly pulled from one group to another in the crowded little house.
“Hey, y’all. Listen up,” Joe shouted. “This here is Brooklyn. She’s with Jason tonight, so be cool and watch your language.”
“Leah …” she tried to correct into the noise, but it was doubtful that anyone heard her, or really cared.
There were some good-natured remarks and laughing. A drink was thrust into her hand and her coat quickly confiscated. Joe placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“You’ll catch the names later. Check everybody out.”
Nora had found her quickly, befriending her when Leah felt so out of place as Jason was swallowed in a circle of colleagues. Everyone was nice to her and wanted to know what she did, but Leah knew she was the outsider here. All of these people had something in common, and she knew so little about it. Nora spent some time filling her in, but Leah became more interested when Nora got around to discussing Jason in particular.
“Jason’s good people,” Nora said. “I noticed right away, and said so to Joe. I said, you stay with him. He’s different, but he’ll never let you down.
“He’s had some bad times. Losing his son like that. What a shame,” Nora said, shaking her head. She squinted at Leah through her glasses. “I never seen Jason with no black girl before. I know all of Jason’s girlfriends,” she boasted. “If they don’t pass my approval, they have got to go. Told Jason so,” and she laughed heartily.
Leah suspected that Nora was not joking, but quickly corrected one misconception. “We’re not dating, actually. We’re just friends.”
Nora’s chest rolled with silent laughter. “Lord have mercy, child,” she choked. “That’s how it starts. Where’d he find you anyway?”
“He didn’t. I found him—”
She would have explained further except that Nora became suddenly distracted. Looking beyond Leah, she gestured with her hand. “Jason, you get yourself in here and come dance with Leah. She don’t want to hear me run my mouth.”
Jason obeyed, silently taking Leah’s hand, pulling her from the ottoman and leading her to the cleared dance floor. Most of the guests were moving in a dark sea of swaying bodies.
The music became slow and Jason pulled Leah into his arms. The few earlier kisses notwithstanding, they had never been this close before. Leah was aware of his lean, hard body, his arm around her narrow waist, his hand holding hers. She tried to concentrate on the music, on the guests she could see over Jason’s shoulder. Joe was standing talking to another man, but his eyes strayed to her and Jason as they moved together.
There was an unexpected grace to his movements. Leah knew, with some amusement, that she could dispel the myth of cops having two left feet. He led her smoothly and she followed, all the while concentrating on how their bodies touched and where. He smelled different from Allen. Allen liked men’s colognes and aftershave scents. Leah didn’t have to search to find that natural essence of Jason, just himself. It made her feel peculiar inside, as if they were melding together, or she’d found out something intimate about him. Jason somehow seemed so masculine without anything extra to enhance him.
She looked into his face, and found that he was studying her carefully. The look seemed too personal and too warm. Could he tell what she’d been thinking?
“I don’t think Joe likes me very much,” she said suddenly.
Jason’s grin was slow. His arm tightened just slightly. “Doesn’t matter. I like you.”
This will never do, Leah thought. But when the dance ended Jason continued to stand with his arm about her, staring into her face. She felt a rush of relief when the music started again and she was claimed by Joe for the next dance. He, too, showed smooth movements for such a big man. He twirled and led Leah through some sensual, soulful turns as if testing her. She stayed with him step for step. Actually, dancing with Joe was easier. They knew exactly what to expect from each other.
At 11:47 Nora came into the room with a tray loaded with fluted champagne glasses. “Okay, everybody. Take a glass now. Only a few minutes left to the old year.”
“Thank goodness,” someone sighed and received laughing agreement.
Jason took two glasses from the tray and gave one to Leah. “This is probably your champagne,” he reminded her.
Joe was passing around streamers and confetti. Jason disappeared into the bedroom where the coats were piled and quickly returned with two noise makers from the pocket of his jacket. The TV volume was turned way up so that they all could hear and watch the lighted ball drop in Times Square. Jason and Leah stood with their noise makers and champagne along with everyone else counting down the last ten seconds. At twelve o’clock Joe flicked the overhead light on and off. Confetti snowed everywhere and the cheers were deafening.
Leah toasted Jason and tried to sip from her glass. She got jostled and the champagne spilled down her chin instead. She started to giggle. Jason tried to wipe the liquid away, but someone slapped him on the back in good spirits, inadvertently pushing him into Leah. Very naturally they kissed as everyone else was doing. Quickly. Safely. They quietly wished each other a Happy New Year.
It was almost dawn when they left the party. Jason had had his share to drink, but seemed in command of the car and soon Leah stopped worrying. They weren’t in any hurry, and the drive back to Brooklyn was slow on the nearly deserted streets and roads. With her eyes closed and her head back against the headrest, the laughter of the party still reverberated in Leah’s head. She tried to focus on that, and not on the image of Jason or the look in his eyes when he’d found her alone in the kitchen pouring more glasses of soda at 2:30 in the morning.
The way they’d looked at each other had pushed open another door of possibility before them, closed some of the old ones behind. It was the champagne, Leah thought. She shouldn’t have had so much champagne. But it might not have made any difference anyway, considering how Jason had casually put his arms around her and kissed her again.
No asking, no hesitation. No tentativeness but a full kiss that connected them and fused their lips and made Leah feel surprisingly languid and giddy. His tongue in her mouth was still a strange thing. Even with her eyes closed Leah was aware that it belonged to someone white. But the eeriness of this actually happening only added to the eroticism of the moment. For Jason was demonstrating a desire and need and enjoyment that was catching. Leah gave in to it, liking the way the kiss was tender and slow. It had been beyond the celebration of New Year’s, beyond a drunken liberty. He hadn’t been drunk. And she hadn’t bothered to stop him. …
“I gotta stop at the precinct before I get you home. Do you mind?” Jason yawned.
“Uh-um.” Leah shook her head slowly. She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t mind much of anything just then.
The station house was a surprise. It was ugly.
There were squad cars parked into the curb on the dreary Brooklyn street, and all the activity was inside. There were two very young girls lounging around the front desk, joking with the on-duty clerk. The girls were garishly dressed, none too subtly advertising their youthful bodies to whoever was interested. The desk clerk and a few other officers were interested. The young women greeted Jason by name as he and Leah entered and passed on.
“Neighborhood groupies,” Jason offered as an explanation as they continued down a series of corridors.
Leah noticed that the walls of the precinct were dirty and painted two shades of institutional green. There was wire mesh in the glass of all the windows. They passed an elderly couple seated on a bench complaining to a cop. There were two Hispanic women struggling through thick accents to be understood by yet another officer. There was a grizzled, smelly drunk, someone crying somewhere, yelling. … Leah hurried to catch up to Jason, trying to curb her discomfort. She felt as though she’d stepped into a parallel universe.
Jason took her into a room marked
YOUTH OFFICER
and indicated a desk. That desk and another across the room were piled high with papers, folders, and an amazing collection of gadgets, toys, and things.
“I have to get something from my locker. Have a seat and I’ll be right back.” Jason waved briefly and left Leah alone in the chilly room.
Leah stood for an uncertain moment before stiffly sitting on the edge of a wooden chair. She wondered if the chairs were intentionally uncomfortable. Looking around the small room, she found it grim and bare except for the stuff on and around Jason’s desk. On the wall between the two windows were a number of drawings and paintings done by young hands. Leah got up to examine them close up. One showed an institutional building with lopsided windows. The other was a picture of a man. The head was oversized compared to the body, but when looked at carefully, Leah could see it was meant to be a portrait of Jason. The artist had even added the red cap.
Below the drawings was a yellowed piece of lined notebook paper with several lines written on it:
when i was locket up
and could not see
wat it was i want to be
you come and sit me free
now i am some body.
Leah was touched. Whatever it was Jason did, he must be very good at it. The drawings and poem were testimony to that. She looked at his desk. There was a switchblade knife wedged between the phone and a book, a half-eaten pack of M&Ms. There was a softball and two framed photos of a boy. Leah knew it was Michael. One showed him about five years old and seated on Jason’s shoulders. Michael looked very much like him except for his blond curly hair and dimples. The other picture showed Michael about age thirteen, his face starting to look less babyish. He was wearing a Flyers 16 T-shirt.
While still examining the photos Leah heard voices behind her. She turned as an officer came into the room. He looked at her in momentary surprise, and then his face grew annoyed.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asked bluntly.