Long Gone, Come Home by Monica Chenault-Kilgore

Author:Monica Chenault-Kilgore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graydon House Books
Published: 2023-04-17T04:09:12+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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Jimmy drove back to Vine Street where they entered a darkened row house that was hugged between a bar and pawn shop. Red and blue neon lights from the bar lit the stairs outside and the hallway inside the house. They climbed up two flights of stairs to Jimmy’s small room. It was dark and draped in quiet. The streetlight peeped through holes in the shade, partially revealing dark stains that crawled up from the baseboards and across faded wallpaper. The only furniture in the room, a bed, nightstand and chifforobe, were strewn aimlessly around a threadbare rug. It was one of those rooms probably advertised in the Cincinnati Enquirer newspaper classified section as a clean room for “colored” only. Clearly, even in the dim light, it was nowhere close to clean. It most likely cost well over the $1.25 per day whites would pay for a nice well-kept boarding room.

Despite the dreary surroundings, for the first time in a long time Birdie experienced a sense of peace. It was easy. It was easy to let Jimmy gently touch her arm. It was easy for her to let him kiss her and for her to kiss him in the shadowy darkness. It was so easy to feel like he had never left her. Making their way over to his bed and feeling their bodies pull closer together was easy too.

Her head, pressed to his chest, bobbed to the rhythmic sway of their breathing. Jimmy’s heart rapped out a steady beat. She held her breath so she could hear and feel the undercurrent of blood rushing through his veins. The sounds of his body, like waves of a river lapping against the shore, soothed her. His chest swelled quietly as he took in the room’s stale air, then violently collapsed as his breath frantically ran away from him.

She thought, It’s just like him, always in a rush to go somewhere.

Birdie lightly traced the lines in Jimmy’s face with her finger. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. His skin, almost hot to the touch, invited her closer. She complied and pressed her body into his, wrapping her leg over his thigh and pushing her toes down along his rough heels. It all felt heavenly. His hard body was so soft and so moist. Wrapped and twisted in the sheets, she melted further into him and the bed.

Something within her stirred. It started as a flutter, dancing in her stomach then slowly running up to her chest. The potency of her feelings stung sharply causing her to catch her own long, deep breath. Pressing back heated tears she rolled onto her back and turned her head to admire her husband’s dark skin against hers. Birdie ran through the evening from the time they left Miss Purity’s rooming house. Between lovemaking, she asked him only once where he’d been all this time. She asked softly, fighting hard not to blurt out even an ounce of her festering anger.

After a moment he said, “I know.

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