Milk in My Coffee by Eric Jerome Dickey

Author:Eric Jerome Dickey [Dickey, Eric Jerome]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781417616220
Publisher: San Val
Published: 1997-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

16 Jordan Greene

“You still partaking of that swine, huh?”

I downed a corner of my blueberry pancakes, then crunched the bacon loud enough to irritate Darrell.

He shook his head, talked with a mouth full of scrambled eggs loaded with hot sauce, “What’s Bambi’s name? Thelma or Louise?”

“Kimberly Denise Chavers.”

He took a swig of orange juice and nodded. “I know why you didn’t bring her down in this neck of the woods.”

“Why?”

“Jim Crow.”

I don’t know why he thought he was so damn wise. He had three failed marriages under his belt. The last two women he married I never met. They were divorced before the rice hit the ground.

“Kimberly. Yep, she white all right. White-ass name.”

“Darrell, quit tripping.”

“What happened to fine-ass Sabrina? Now, that bitch was bad. Had a ass that wouldn’t quit.”

Sabrina. Like that name didn’t sound white. Thanks to the heartbreak from Sabrina, when I left the University of Memphis, instead of working at FedEx, I fled the South and moved to New York. Sabrina was the first woman I dated when I came to Memphis from my Brownsville hamlet. A thick sister, fresh out of high school, sporting a waistline that gave her backside a nice southern appeal. We made eye contact and shared a smile at freshman orientation. Dated from that day to the middle of my senior year. Dated until I stopped by her off-campus apartment one day, used my key to get in, walked into the bedroom, and . . .

“A brotha named Bobby happened to Sabrina.”

He nodded. “If you was laying the pipe right—”

I snapped, “Shut up, all right?”

“Kiss my black ass.”

“Your pug nose is in the way.”

“You a asshole.”

“And you’re the whole ass. I don’t give partial credit.”

Darrell choked on his pancakes on that corny one-liner. Whatever he was chewing shot out of his nose.

“Darrell, you all right?”

“That was funny!” He laughed and wiped his eyes. “‘I don’t give partial credit.’ Man, I gotta remember that.”

We sat in the IHOP on Airways and talked. I told him about Kimberly. He listened. No matter how positive I made her sound, he wasn’t thrilled. Not because she was white, but because she wasn’t black. Like him, I held my ground and remained strong on the outside. Darrell is three years older than Reggie, almost four years older than me, and acted more like a father than a brother. That came from having to be the man of a household that housed no steady male role model. Which was part of the reason we were so distant. He was too opinionated and I hated being pushed around, verbally or otherwise.

“Got a white woman.”

I motioned for him to lower his voice in this crowded, southern atmosphere. “I’m dating a woman who happens to be white.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

“Just for that, you pay for the food.”

I said, “Thought you were paying.”

Darrell huffed, “That’s what you get for thinking.”

I finished my coffee and gave him a twenty to cover the fourteen-dollar bill. Darrell went to pay the bill, then came back to get me.

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