Page 52 of João
“You don’t play fair!” Gisele said, trying to tickle me back with zero success—well, if I didn’t count my dick, which was hard as fuck in my pants, but this was not the time for listening to my dick. I wanted instead to listen to my heart; I wanted to do what it told me, even if for this moment.
“Me? What about you, woman, asking me to open up and tell you about my troubles, only to make fun of me when I was an innocent teenager?”
“I wasn’t making fun! Ay! Okay, maybe just a little but…don’t you wish you could feel some of that happiness again, some of that contentedness you felt in church with your mom?” Gisele’s relentless kindness would probably be my cause of death on the certificate because she would not stop seeing the me I couldn’t even see. And I knew myself very, very well, so this experience with her felt so disconcertingly right.
She settled herself on top of me, wriggling her bottom half between my legs, pressing her head to my chest, her warm breath slowing down against my shirt. Her forever scent of sunshine and home had combined with Helena’s essential oils, a calming mix that worked wonders. I could stay here with her for hours. I could do this the whole rest of my afternoon.
Fuck.
“I found that happiness in my lifestyle, with my kink. Maybe it’s a different type of happiness, but I did.”
“But…?”
“But lately, I had lost some of that spark…till you.”
The warm gust of air that hit my chest calmed some of the nerves that came with saying that out loud. This woman had me feeling just like that lanky teenager, nervous to tell his first crush he liked her.
Somehow Gisele had me feeling brand new. She kept wiggling herself past my jaded views.
“Oh, João, I feel it too. I know we both—well, we both have different views of the future, but sometimes I wonder why God would put you in front of me like this for you not to be for me… It just feels cruel.”
“Old Testament God stuff, huh?”
Gisele’s laughter shook me again, and I couldn’t help but press against her softness, the only gift I would allow myself to take right now.
“Yeah, I guess. For now, though, I plan to enjoy you, enjoy us. I’m thankful for the gift of you.”
Fuck, this woman!
“Gisele, I’m—” My throat closed up and I cleared it. “You’re more than a gift to me, I…”
I love you, I’m in love with you, I want to own every single piece of youwould probably scare the shit out of her, so instead I sat with these feelings, so big I never knew it could be like this. Maybe this was why people lost their minds while in love. This was why people compromised on their own boundaries and desires because there was something bigger, greater than the sum of just them.
I thought I knew.
I thought I understood.
the talk
GISELE
“Ohhh, so you finally come and see your momma, huh?”
The aroma of greens, turkey necks, and rice and peas filled my mother’s kitchen. I had stayed away for long enough, but as always with her and I, a little space helped to bring us back together.
“Yes, momma, I’m here. You knew I would be, same as you know how hurt I’d be with you just quoting scripture to me when I needed your understanding.”
With a wooden spoon in one hand, wearing a long house dress and all the jewelry she’d collected through the years, Deborah Washington moved around her kitchen with the grace of a prima ballerina on stage at the prime of her career.
“Oh, child, I’m old. You know that, don’t you? I’m in my seventies and set in my ways, but I try. I’m sorry I went into my default, I should have realized you needed another type of support.”
“It’s okay, Mom, I’m used to it by now.”
I shrugged; this was a conversation my mother and I had had many times. So many times I had asked her to take off her ‘child of the church’ hat and talk to me like her daughter, give me advice not based on the Good Book but her own life experiences. And she tried. To give her full credit, every single time we had this conversation she would try, and for a few months we would be really in tune—then she would revert to her old ways, which, to be honest, were heralwaysways if I let her. Long ago, I had to make a decision: I accepted her for who she was, but I protected myself and my peace whenever I needed to.
“I wish you wouldn’t sound so resigned. You know I be trying, Gisele, what else do you want from me?” Mom turned around, brandishing her tasting spoon right in my face. Her turkey necks were to die for.
“It’s perfect, Mom.” I smiled, and she wiggled her hips to a silent tune.
