Blue Collar Blues (25 page)

“Don’t you want to get in bed?” she asked.

She led him back to the bedroom and turned on the pink light on the nightstand. In his touching and retouching, she recognized that making love with R.C. was better than she remembered. Their lovemaking continued for another hour. By then, Khan had forgotten all about his wife.

Her eyes were closed in bliss, reliving every second, every sound, every scent of the man she’d longed to love her, lying next to her now. Close to two hours had passed. When she felt him slipping from beneath the sheets, she opened her eyes.

“R.C.?”

He hesitated, then said in a pitiful voice, “I got to go.”

Go? You couldn’t wait to get your ass over here, now you gotta go?
He seemed to be saying everything in two directions and the intersection was in her head. He was leaving now and would never return.

“Blood, I don’t want you to go.” Khan clung to him, afraid that his leaving would starve the fever of their lust. “It’s never been this good between us before.” Her eyes frantically searched his until he turned away.

She clasped the sheets over her body.

Nothing else was said between them as he dressed, then left, abandoning her.

Hearing the door slam softly behind him, Khan cringed. Old tears streamed down her face. She felt used. Why did she keep making this same damn mistake? Mama Pearl had taught her better. Khan knew she hadn’t used her wisdom tonight. Tonight would be the last night.

Khan stood by the window stark naked. She pulled open the drapes in her bedroom. She wanted to be seen and judged for who she was.

Up above, a million stars sparkled in the black night sky. Khan felt a chill. She had the weirdest feeling, as if the stars were eyes. A million eyes staring down on her. Condemning her for what she’d done.

__________

Tomiko hummed a Patti LaBelle song. Her eyes opened and closed as her body swooned to the soft beat. She felt so fluid, so soothed and relaxed. It was as if the music were two warm hands massaging her entire body. Tomiko felt carried away as she imagined Patti climbing a mystical staircase to a higher plane of feeling. Tomiko twirled around in a circle, snapping her fingers up high.

Outside the hot August air clung to every tree, car, and body. But inside Detroit’s Jazz West Club, Tomiko felt cool, oh so cool.

Pumping her arms in the air, Tomiko worked her buttocks from left to right to the beat of the soulful music. It was her first time at the club, where all the patrons were younger than thirty. Beautiful black young men and women from chocolate brown to ecru were popping their fingers, having a good time laughing and dancing in the packed nightclub. Tomiko was beginning to feel like one of them.

Her dance partner was tall and lithe. When the record was over, she headed back to her table. Just then, she noticed a good-looking brother, his eyes focused on hers, coming toward her.

“Hi, I’m Nathan,” he said, staring at her mouth. “That’s some pretty lipstick you’re wearing.”

Tomiko blushed. “Thanks. I’m Tomiko.”

The tempo of the music suddenly changed. “For You,” Kenny Lattimore’s hit song from the previous year, had just started. It was still one of her favorites. Her thoughts traveled to R.C. Where was her husband? Once again she wished he were with her tonight, holding her close.

Earlier, Tomiko had refused several offers to dance to the slow love songs the DJ played. She really wanted to try slow dancing, but she hadn’t been able to build up the nerve. Slow dancing was so sexy, especially, she’d observed, when dancing with a black man.

“Care for another dance?” He held out his hand.

Accepting him, she said, “Sure.”

“Your raven wild hair and olive brown coloring say you’re black, but your exotic slanted eyes and small nose and chin say otherwise. Are you Oriental?”

“Japanese and African American.”

“It’s a good mix, Tomiko. You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her cherry lips sparkled. Her shoulder-length hair, falling down into thick rows of gentle waves, was as black as a raven’s feathers. Unadorned by jewelry and wearing very little makeup and all black, Tomiko was the definition of simple elegance.

Bonnie had taught Tomiko the American black dances. Tomiko’s parents had been very strict and had never let her go out to dance clubs in Japan—not that there were any near the family’s home and horse farm outside of Kyoto. But Bonnie had shown her how to dance to the funky tempo of Usher, Maxwell, Ginuwine, and R. Kelly. R.C. had promised her he would take her to a nightclub once she was ready.

Earlier this evening, Tomiko had been completely dressed and wearing a new pair of chunky dancing shoes, but R.C. was in his pajamas and complaining of a migraine. She had been ready to stay home with him, in a way relieved to have him home at all. But to Tomiko’s surprise, R.C. had suggested that she go alone and, dying to dance, she had reluctantly agreed.

Now she was glad she had come.

From the moment Nathan placed his arm around her waist and pulled her next to him, to her amazement she felt her heart beginning to pound. His face was just inches from hers, and she could smell the cool mint on his breath as he made small talk, asking her if she lived in the city. By the song’s second verse, she knew that he worked for a software company in Dearborn and lived on the west side of Detroit—and that he was single.

Turning to her right, she observed some of the other couples kissing, women resting their heads on their partners’ chests. The music was building, the love song making you feel as if you wanted to be in love with the man you were dancing with, right at that moment. She felt the music touching her heart, then gravitating down to her hips, which reacted naturally to the lovely melody.

Tomiko felt her partner relax and pull her closer to him as he guided her around the dance floor. The scent of his cologne was so fresh and sweet she almost asked him the name of it. Slow dancing with Nathan was like having sex on the dance floor. Tomiko could feel the sweat between her legs. There was no way she could deny the attraction between her and Nathan.

When the song ended, Tomiko knew she better go home. She wanted her man to make her feel the way this man made her feel. Her body tingled with the anticipation of making serious love to her husband.

“Thanks,” Tomiko said, loosening herself from his enticing arms. The next tune started up. By the tempo of the music she knew it was another slow song. The DJ announced that he was playing “If Only You Knew,” a love song by Phil Perry, for all the lovers in the house tonight . . . one more time.

No, I won’t, Nathan. You’re fine, but you better find a young woman who’s single. It’s time for me to go home.

Making her way through the crowd she left the dance floor and headed for the pay phones. It was ten minutes after eleven when she called home.

Bonnie answered.

“Hi, Bonnie, it’s Tomiko. Is R.C. still asleep?”

“No . . . I don’t know,” Bonnie stuttered.

“Never mind. I’m on my way home.” She was certain, from Bonnie’s tone, that R.C. wasn’t home.

Driving home, Tomiko remembered how hard it had been at the ranch when they had been there in July. One of the stallions had broken a leg and was suffering badly. He had to be shot. R.C. had been in a rage; he’d had big plans for the stallion. From that point on, their stay at the ranch had gone downhill. R.C. seemed to be having a problem staying hard when they made love, and he refused to discuss it with her. She could barely remember the last time they’d had a good night of sex. When was it? Early June? Before his arrest, certainly.

She remembered that their evening had begun as it always did, with a game. It was called An Enchanted Evening.

The mood had been set on the veranda outside their bedroom. Tomiko had marinated raspberries in a special liqueur and placed the fruit in champagne glasses. White chocolate–covered Godiva raspberries were in a bowl beside them along with a cold bottle of Cristal champagne.

The object of the game was to win a wish. Each player was supposed to take a blank card and write down a secret wish that the player wanted fulfilled by or with each other, one that could be fulfilled the same evening. Without disclosing the wish, they set the cards aside until the end of the game. The players move around the board, drawing cards that direct their actions. Some cards ask for verbal responses; other suggest gentle touching or playful advances; others are more subtle and ambiguous.

Tomiko had insisted that they play this game totally nude.

“Have you written down your wish?” Tomiko had asked R.C. She had sipped on her champagne, then said, “I’ve written down mine.”

“I read the rules. I’ll go first.” When she’d nodded, he had drawn a card from the deck and asked, “‘Lines, curves, bends, turns—what is it about your partner’s body that you find alluring?’”

Tomiko had thought for a moment, then reached down and stroked his toes. “I love how they feel when you’re on top of me and they curl over mine.” She’d smiled, then said, “My turn.” She had read the card to herself first then had begun to move her body into a comfortable position as she read it aloud. “‘Think of your partner as Michelangelo, Rodin, or Picasso. Pose for him.’” She’d extended her chin and head high, and, turning her body slightly to her left, had cocked her left leg up, placing the tip of her finger at the mouth of her vagina. “You like?” she’d asked, seeing from the corner of her eye his growing erection.

She’d sat there feeling his eyes ravishing her body. He’d never looked at her that way before. “Do you want to stop, R.C.?”

“No. One more.” He had drawn, then read, “‘Using the tip of a finger and your most flowery style, trace your name somewhere on your partner’s body.’”

R.C. had set his glass to the side and leaned over beside her. With his index finger he’d begun to write along her thigh.

“That’s awful long for R.C.”

“My birth name is Richard Charles Richardson.”

The game had turned out better than she had ever expected—especially since he had shared something with her that was important: his name. But she had had to wait long for the rest of An Enchanted Evening. R.C. had taken her hand, lifted her up, and carried her to the bed.

“Now I’m going to fuck you tonight like I ain’t never fucked no woman before.” He had reached down and placed her hand on his penis. It was hard as iron. “Not because I desire you. But because I love you, Tomiko.”

That night had begun with the thought of them having an innocent night of fun and ended with more pleasure than she had ever dreamed possible.

And thinking about that night now warmed her with so much love, she wanted to rush home. She only hoped R.C. was there to greet her.

Sure enough, R.C.’s car was missing from the garage. She needed to talk. The great weight of her loneliness had descended upon her once again.

She went into the bedroom she shared with R.C. and lay, fully clothed, on top of her Mikimoto duvet. She opened the drawer of her bedside table and looked at the letter she’d received last month. She still hadn’t read it. Unsure why, Tomiko felt afraid, as if the letter contained a Pandora’s box that might affect her future in a negative way. She’d opened the envelope and several snapshots had fallen out. She’d looked at them quickly and then returned them to the envelope. But now she wanted to satiate her curiosity. With the letter in hand, Tomiko walked down the hall toward Bonnie’s room.

“Bonnie, are you asleep?” she asked through the closed bedroom door.

“Just about.”

Tomiko could hear the springs of the bed squeak lightly seconds before Bonnie opened the door. “I didn’t mean for you to get up.”

“Don’t give me that, Tomiko. You got something on your mind. Where have you been, girl?”

“I went out dancing.”

“And did you remember all those steps I taught you?”

Tomiko imitated the latest dance, the Chinese Checkers.

“You work it, girl,” Bonnie praised. “Did you do okay, then?”

“Great, I think. Especially with this one guy.”

“And?”

“Well, he wasn’t R.C.”

“Girl, sometimes it’s better to get attention from somewhere else than wait around and feel sorry for yourself.” Bonnie paused and looked at Tomiko. “But you’ve got something else on your mind, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. I received this letter and I wondered if you would read it with me.”

“Hold up. You’re telling me you can’t read it alone? What on earth is the problem?”

“I’m just nervous.”

Bonnie stared at her a moment, then sat up in her bed and took the envelope from Tomiko. She opened it as Tomiko sat beside her. The three pictures fell out.

“Who’s this?”

“I think the baby is me.”

One picture was of a black man holding a baby. Another photo was of four adults: a black man and a Japanese woman (Tomiko’s mother) seated in front of an older black couple. There was also a young girl who appeared to be about four years old.

“And these other folks?” Bonnie stopped. “Hey, we should stop right now and read the letter first. Otherwise none of this makes sense.”

“Will you read it to me, Bonnie?”

“I understand, honey,” Bonnie said, hugging Tomiko to her.

Opening up the carefully folded pages, Bonnie read:

“‘Thank God we’ve finally found you. You probably don’t remember us, but we’re your grandma and grandpa Johnson, your father’s parents. We haven’t seen you since you were real little. We’ve missed you so much, Tomiko. Don’t think a day’s gone by when we haven’t thought of you.’”

Bonnie and Tomiko looked at each other. Tomiko’s hands trembled as Bonnie read the letter.

“‘We don’t know how much you were told about us, but after your father died and your mother remarried, we weren’t allowed to see you anymore. We tried so many times to change your mother’s mind. But she refused. She said she planned on raising you as Japanese and she was going to make you forget your black heritage. Your father wouldn’t have wanted that. He was our only child, Tomiko, and we loved him so. And you are our only grandchild.

“‘You might be wondering how we found you. We never gave up hope that we’d find you. And when we saw your picture in the paper with your husband a few months ago, we knew immediately it was you. Our Tomiko. Your grandfather did some checking and found your husband’s address. We know it was a true sign from God that you’re here with us at last. We love you.’”