Corregidora (Bluestreak) by Gayl Jones

shoulder.
    “I know what they must have been saying about my voice,” I said.
    He shook his head. “It sounded like it had sweat in it. Like you were pulling everything out of yourself. You were beautiful, sweet.”
    “Did you see him?”
    “Yeah, I saw him.”
    “I thought he might try to get in.”
    “Naw, he wasn’t going to try to do that.”
    He still didn’t ask me what Jim wanted. I was glad. His hands were gentle hard on my belly, then stroking my thighs.
    “I love you,” he said.
    I said nothing. I was thinking I’d only wanted him to love me without saying anything about it. Cat had told me enough. I was grateful he didn’t ask me the same question.
    “What did you and Jim talk about?” he asked finally.
    “He wanted me to come out and talk. Mutt did.”
    “And you didn’t.”
    “He says Mutt’s released me.”
    He was stroking my thigh.
    “You heard what I said,” he said.
    “Yes.”
    “I want you to be my wife.”
    I nodded, but he wasn’t looking.
    “Did you hear what I said?”
    “Yes. I mean, yes I’ll marry you.”
    He drew me into bed.
    “Are you relaxed now?” he asked.
    I said yes I was relaxed now. I started to tell him Jim said Mutt wasn’t coming back, but I didn’t. Tadpole got between my legs.
    “What’s a husband for?”
    “Somebody to give your piece of ass to.”
    “Mutt, just suppose something was in there when they took it out? What would you feel then?”
    “Was something in there?”
    “Just suppose.”
    “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”
    “… They would bend down with their fingers feeling up your pussy.”
    “You don’t care if you ever see me again, do you?”
    “Naw, I don’t care.”
    “What do Mutt do?”
    “He works in tobacco.”
    “What do you remember?”
    “I could feel your thing. I could smell you in my nostrils.”
    What do blues do for you?
    It helps me to explain what I can’t explain.
    I was already awake when he woke up. He looked over at me and rubbed under my eyes.
    “You dark under your eyes,” he said.
    “That’s mascara.”
    “Aw.”
    He touched my cheek.
    “Do you know what your eyes do?”
    “No.”
    “They make a man feel like he wants to climb inside them.”
    Fall to the bottom of my eyes. What will you do there?
    “Can I do the supper show tonight?” I asked.
    “Not unless you check with Dr. Stevens first.”
    “He said I should gradually increase time.”
    “Not your kind of gradual. You saw the chair I had sitting there for you.”
    “Yeah, I saw it.”
    “I think you ought to go tell Dr. Stevens you working awready.”
    “I feel like it.”
    “I still think you should go over there. I’ll drive you over there as soon as I get things started and Sal gets here. Otherwise, I won’t feel right.”
    I said okay I’d go.
    “You pushed it, didn’t you? Started to work now.”
    “I had to.”
    “How do you feel?”
    “I’m all right.”
    “Well, the nurse’ll take care of you. I’ll be in in a minute.”
    I went into the examining room and undressed and got up on the table. The doctor came in. He started feeling my belly, feeling places and asking me if it hurt. I kept saying Naw.
    “Did you get tired out last night?” he asked.
    I said Naw.
    “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. Any more nausea?”
    “Naw.”
    “Well, get dressed. Stop back and see me before you leave.”
    I got dressed and went back into the doctor’s office.
    “I’m going to put you on some iron pills anyway.”
    He wrote out a prescription.
    “Have you started back having sexual relations yet?”
    “Yes, why? Is there something wrong with it?”
    “No, there’s nothing wrong with it,” he said. “But just don’t push it either.”
    He handed me the prescription.
    “I don’t think you need to come back for, say, three weeks. And we’ll see how the work’s going. Don’t push your time too much. Like I said before. A little bit every night. I’d say don’t push it more than a