his lover this way was akin to abuse. Righteous set his lips in a grim line, vowing to behave. And to make sure Stephen never found out for sure. What he did not know wouldn’t hurt him.
He sighed, filled with self-loathing. He pulled his car onto Garth and headed slowly south along Route 46 toward Redstar. Soon Goshen’s lights faded behind him. His mind wove a kind of poetry as he thought of the sexual exploits of the past week. If truth be told, Righteous was bored with the easy access to sex that working at Thirsty’s gave him. Still, he had been doing this a long time and he knew the chickie would go on to someone else, someone who held the power of the moment. Righteous would fade away and there would be someone new for both of them. It was like a game of musical chairs. The only constant in his life was Stephen, and yet he seemed hell-bent on ruining that.
He thought of his parents, his mother killing his father with the hoodoo and drinking herself into a dead liver from the guilt of it all. They’d gone before he was twelve, and what he’d learned about relationships from them could fit in his grandmother’s thimble. His grandma and grandpa had done all right, together forty years before the big storm had washed them away. By then he was on his own and sleeping with the uncle of one of his friends from school. Then he’d met Stephen. Although the attraction had been fast and fierce, their relationship had grown slow, with Righteous stepping back periodically into his old comfortable life with the uncle. He’d never been faithful to Stephen, really faithful, even though they had been together almost three years.
The lights of Redstar appeared out of the country blackness, and Righteous straightened himself in the seat. He quieted his feelings of guilt and inadequacy and pulled up in front of the trailer that he and Stephen rented from Old Man Beard.
Stephen had left the little lamp in the living room switched on for him. He always offered such kind gestures.
Righteous entered quietly and stepped into the bathroom to strip and wash up. Moments later he slid into the warm bed next to Stephen. Stephen turned and pressed a sleepy kiss to Righteous’s forehead then turned back to cuddle into his pillow. Righteous held him close, spoon-fashion, and wanted to cry from the beautiful way they felt together.
Chapter Ten
Morning came too soon. Delora heard Rosalie clattering dishes in the kitchen and quickly pulled herself from the bed and into an old chenille robe.
Rosalie James was still pretty even though her weight was pushing four hundred pounds. Her face was cherubic in its frame of jowl; this face was the one thing that allowed Delora to continue to harbor some feeling of affection for her foster mother. Rosalie had been a harsh mother, not easy to please and making no bones about the fact she’d only taken in Delora and the other children for the monthly stipends provided by the state. Her tone, when she said it, often made Delora wish she had been two children left orphaned instead of only one.
Rosalie’s lips writhed around a piece of cold bagel as she eyed Delora with judging eyes. “Best get him up now. You know I can’t be helping him with my back the way it is.”
“Yes, Mama,” Delora said, gulping the orange juice she’d poured while standing at the refrigerator. The cold acid threatened to crawl back up her esophagus as she moved along the hallway. Dark and dim, with peeling wallpaper that smelled of old smoke, the hallway reminded Delora of pounding fights with her foster sisters, sisters who had grown to lanky womanhood and gone off with greasy men with names like Chuck and Billy Ray. These sisters came back periodically, with black eyes and broken teeth. Mama Rosalie, as she had done with Delora, would take them back into the fold and charge them high rent until they found a new man and a new home. It was her duty, after all.
Pausing outside Louie’s door, the voices came back to
He sighed, filled with self-loathing. He pulled his car onto Garth and headed slowly south along Route 46 toward Redstar. Soon Goshen’s lights faded behind him. His mind wove a kind of poetry as he thought of the sexual exploits of the past week. If truth be told, Righteous was bored with the easy access to sex that working at Thirsty’s gave him. Still, he had been doing this a long time and he knew the chickie would go on to someone else, someone who held the power of the moment. Righteous would fade away and there would be someone new for both of them. It was like a game of musical chairs. The only constant in his life was Stephen, and yet he seemed hell-bent on ruining that.
He thought of his parents, his mother killing his father with the hoodoo and drinking herself into a dead liver from the guilt of it all. They’d gone before he was twelve, and what he’d learned about relationships from them could fit in his grandmother’s thimble. His grandma and grandpa had done all right, together forty years before the big storm had washed them away. By then he was on his own and sleeping with the uncle of one of his friends from school. Then he’d met Stephen. Although the attraction had been fast and fierce, their relationship had grown slow, with Righteous stepping back periodically into his old comfortable life with the uncle. He’d never been faithful to Stephen, really faithful, even though they had been together almost three years.
The lights of Redstar appeared out of the country blackness, and Righteous straightened himself in the seat. He quieted his feelings of guilt and inadequacy and pulled up in front of the trailer that he and Stephen rented from Old Man Beard.
Stephen had left the little lamp in the living room switched on for him. He always offered such kind gestures.
Righteous entered quietly and stepped into the bathroom to strip and wash up. Moments later he slid into the warm bed next to Stephen. Stephen turned and pressed a sleepy kiss to Righteous’s forehead then turned back to cuddle into his pillow. Righteous held him close, spoon-fashion, and wanted to cry from the beautiful way they felt together.
Chapter Ten
Morning came too soon. Delora heard Rosalie clattering dishes in the kitchen and quickly pulled herself from the bed and into an old chenille robe.
Rosalie James was still pretty even though her weight was pushing four hundred pounds. Her face was cherubic in its frame of jowl; this face was the one thing that allowed Delora to continue to harbor some feeling of affection for her foster mother. Rosalie had been a harsh mother, not easy to please and making no bones about the fact she’d only taken in Delora and the other children for the monthly stipends provided by the state. Her tone, when she said it, often made Delora wish she had been two children left orphaned instead of only one.
Rosalie’s lips writhed around a piece of cold bagel as she eyed Delora with judging eyes. “Best get him up now. You know I can’t be helping him with my back the way it is.”
“Yes, Mama,” Delora said, gulping the orange juice she’d poured while standing at the refrigerator. The cold acid threatened to crawl back up her esophagus as she moved along the hallway. Dark and dim, with peeling wallpaper that smelled of old smoke, the hallway reminded Delora of pounding fights with her foster sisters, sisters who had grown to lanky womanhood and gone off with greasy men with names like Chuck and Billy Ray. These sisters came back periodically, with black eyes and broken teeth. Mama Rosalie, as she had done with Delora, would take them back into the fold and charge them high rent until they found a new man and a new home. It was her duty, after all.
Pausing outside Louie’s door, the voices came back to
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