Blue Collar Blues (41 page)

Khan continued visiting Tino in jail at least once a week. Last week when she’d visited, Uncle Ron was already there. Tears came to her eyes as she remembered the conversation she’d witnessed between father and son.

“Tino, you are my son and I will always love you.”

“Dad, we are different. But that doesn’t make either of us less of a man.”

“I think I understand that now.”

“And Dad, thank you for standing by my family.”

“Thank you for standing by yours. That’s the true test of any man.”

* * *

On the day of Tino’s sentencing, without even being asked, Buddy had taken a day off work to accompany Khan to the courtroom.

They arrived before Ron, Ida, and Sarah. Tino looked tired, but he still had fight left in his face. When the judge read the verdict, “Guilty as charged,” and then sentenced him to ten to twenty years, everyone cried. But they were tears of relief. The psychiatrist had discounted Valentino’s original plea of temporary insanity. When his attorney entered a plea of guilty, the prosecuting attorney was ready to deal. Valentino would be out in three and a half years. He was led away by the bailiff but not before mouthing “I love you” to the bench where his family sat.

Later, everyone congratulated Sarah when she told them she was three months pregnant. Her future, her son’s future, and now her new baby’s future were with her husband. And all four would wait patiently, with prayer, until he was released.

As Khan and Buddy prepared to leave, Khan turned to Ida. “Do you two want to meet for dinner later?”

Ida cuddled against Ron. She couldn’t answer; her smile was wide.

“We’ve got a date three aisles over. We’re going to make it legal, Khan.” Ron took Ida’s hand in his and nodded. Khan knew she would remember this beautiful moment between them no matter what valleys her aunt and uncle might have to cross.

“Wish us luck,” Ida said finally, laughing. “Our honeymoon might be on
America’s Funniest Home Videos.
”

Ron slapped Ida on her rump. “Shut up, Ida.” It was good that they had chosen this day to make joy happen. It was fitting in some way.

Tragedy had turned into triumph.

On their way back to her condo Buddy asked her a question that caught Khan off guard. “Did you read about R.C. in the papers?”

“No.” Khan felt her face flush.

“He filed for bankruptcy. It appears the IRS has confiscated all his assets. In short, he’s broke.”

Khan knew that Buddy was gauging her response. It was a test she knew she would pass. Her conviction that she would always care for R.C. was now a part of her past. “That’s interesting, Buddy.” She snuggled against him and wove her fingers through his.

But later that evening Khan hesitantly called R.C.’s home. Tomiko answered.

“Hello, this is Khan.”

“I recognize your voice,” Tomiko said. “R.C. isn’t home. Can I help you?”

Khan gulped hard. She was a bit apprehensive, but certain that she was doing the right thing. “I’ve never sent you two a wedding gift. Could you tell R.C. that a present from Khan is in the mail?”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

She took a deep breath and counted on her decency to continue the conversation. “I wish you all the luck in the world, Tomiko. I truly mean it.” Khan’s voice began to break just as she hung up. Sorrow filled her and she cupped her hands over her mouth, trying to keep it inside. Old love was hard; new love was, too—you never knew where the truth ended and deception began. How could she trust her flowering feelings for Buddy?

After calling Tomiko, Khan sent R.C. all the jewelry he’d given her. With the strike resolved so quickly, she’d never needed to sell it. He needed those things more now.

She was still crying minutes later when Buddy phoned. His aunt’s condition had worsened. She desperately needed a kidney transplant. She was losing the window of time for a successful transplant operation.

The following four days were hell. Khan was finally back at work, but production was slow. The union was still waiting to hear about the fate of Troy Trim. Now with Aunt Viola near death, Khan found it even more difficult to concentrate on work. She turned down overtime and hurried home, waiting for Buddy’s call. Even though she hadn’t known Viola that long, her allegiance to her was strong. The older woman was Buddy’s closest link to his family.

By week’s end, Viola’s health had deteriorated even more. In the interim, Buddy learned that his kidney was a match with his aunt’s.

“Khan, I’ve agreed to donate one of my kidneys to my aunt.”

But what about us?
“Where does that leave you if something were to happen in your life? I’m worried about you.”

Buddy was calm before he spoke. “My life means nothing to me without the love of my family. My aunt Viola is the only family member I have left on this earth.”

What about me?

“People live with one kidney all the time. Try to understand how I feel. I never told you before, Khan, that I love you. But I do. If your life was at stake I’d do the same thing.”

This didn’t seem the time to tell him that she loved him. The only thing left for her to do was pray. “I understand, Buddy.” She held back tears. “Do what you have to do.” Her mouth was trembling.

When Khan went to work Monday morning, she moved through the plant like a zombie. At lunchtime she stopped by the Bible study group. She asked for them to pray for Viola Robbins. Even though she’d never sat in on one of their meetings before, they greeted her eagerly. They wouldn’t let her go until she joined hands with them and they could pray for her as well. Khan was genuinely touched.

After lunch, she called home and retrieved her messages. The first message was from Buddy. His aunt had died.

Khan felt relieved, and guilty.

Later that same day, Ron called. It was official: Troy Trim was being sold to Mishupont by the first of the year.

Ron went on to say that when Mishupont took over, the hourly rate would drop by two dollars. High-seniority workers with twenty years or more could bump to another Champion plant. Those left would get the first option of employment with the new company.

That left Khan out in the cold with only five and a half years’ seniority.

The killing part was that there would be no union. With thirty years’ seniority, Ron was considering retirement. Ida probably would retire as well.

What was Khan going to do? She had some money saved, but it was clear she could no longer count on Champion. She thought of Thyme and wished her friend were nearby to give her advice. Maybe it was a sign that it was time to get her degree. Maybe it was time to take off that blue collar.

Khan helped Buddy with Aunt Viola’s funeral. Khan perceived from all the mementos in her home that the elderly woman had loved her house. It was her life.

It hurt her to see Buddy struggling with the small details, going through his aunt’s closets to select a dress she’d soon wear.

“Maybe I should buy her a new dress,” Buddy said.

“No,” Khan said. “I think she would want to wear one of her own dresses; she has a closet full of beautiful clothes. We’ll put an orchid in her hair and she’ll look beautiful. The same way she does in that picture on the wall.”

They both looked up to see a portrait of Viola at age twenty-five. She had aged well. Khan thought of Mama Pearl and missed her more than ever.

After the funeral, in the early evening, as the late October day faded, Khan waited for Buddy. Soft trickles of rain had begun to fall. The doorbell rang and Buddy handed her a small bouquet of African violets before he stepped inside.

She touched the dreadlocks that she had come to love and said, “Thanks.” Then, taking his hand, she led him inside.

“Blondie, it sure smells good in here. Matter of fact, it always smells good in here. What is it?”

“My new fragrance, Amazon?” She went over to him and held out her wrist and let him inhale it. “There’s a little bit of cedar, coconut, cloves, and I won’t say what else. Like it?”

“Mm-hm.”

With a dish towel in one hand and the violets in the other, she led him into the living room and placed him in front of the television, handing him the remote. “Look, CNN is on.” She kissed him on his forehead. “Now sit down and be quiet until I finish.”

“But, Blondie, this ain’t the kind of sport I’m interested in right now.” He stared at her cleavage. There was no mistaking his intentions.

“You dog, you.” She plopped his face with the dish towel and gave him a dirty grin.

Just then, thunder cracked outside. The sky had begun to darken and they could hear the wind reeling through the bare branches of the trees outside and whipping them back and forth.

Khan was in the breakfast area stretching out a tablecloth over the table. She placed a candle holder in the center and completed the two table settings.

“I love it when the sky grows dark like this before a storm.” Buddy was standing looking outside the living room window.

The sky had turned surreal, its colors dark gray, black, silver, and iridescent white; it looked as if God’s face were being stitched across the sky. The sky had become a quilt of the day: death and now new life.

Khan stopped what she was doing and stood beside him. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Like you. Your eyes. They sparkle like angels.” His voice was thick and husky. Buddy turned away from the window and came toward her.

Khan immediately stepped back. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her. Also noticeable was the way his eyes blatantly feasted on her body. “Let me get the dinner on the table,” she said. “I know you’re starved.” But she knew that rock Cornish hens and dressing wasn’t the type of banquet he had in mind.
He wants my ass.

The thunder cracked outside and the lights blinked off and on.

Still feeling his eyes on her, Khan felt more nervous than she ever had around him. When she sat, the dishes clinked and clattered on the table.
Shit.
She dropped the silverware on the floor and went back into the kitchen to get clean ones. Still she felt his eyes watching her at every turn. Khan filled both their plates with generous helpings of hens and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, French string beans, and cranberry sauce. Just as she’d filled two glasses with ice cubes Buddy called out her name.

“Khan.”

The simplicity of hearing him call her name made her weak. She waited. He called her again, his voice more sultry.

“Khan.”

Outside, the pounding rain was building and the cracking sounds of thunder were stronger than before. As the sky closed in around them, the darkness descended upon the house.

“Everything’s ready, Buddy.” She placed two gold candles in the center of the table, then stood back to appraise her work. Getting her mind off Buddy and sex to eating dinner was quite a feat.
What if he couldn’t screw? What if he had a little dick? Ah, hell.
“Do you have any matches?”

He patted his pants and breast pockets. “No.” Just then his penetrating eyes pinned her. They were like the eyes of a falcon and she had to turn away, the connection was so strong.

Outside, there was the sound of incessant rain, combined with a whoosh of thunder breaking into the scene as if the moment deserved a thread of kinetic energy. It conveyed such power, the power that crept into Khan’s soul and spread down through the most private parts of her body.

The thunder cracked again and the lights suddenly flicked off. In the darkness she felt Buddy coming toward her.

His first touch, his fingertips against her face, felt as soft and caressing as a melody. It was ten times stronger than any verbal or emotional contact she had ever felt before. He stroked her eyes, nose, lips, and brought his fingers down beneath her chin, hesitating in the center of her breasts and pressing his splayed fingers against her breastbone. Then he stopped.

She savored the heat and heaviness of the hand that lay against her breast and raised her hand to touch it.

Her brain issued an SOS when she felt him disengage. But that touch was immediately replaced by another: his soft lips enveloping hers. He kissed her gently, then pulled back. “Baby, I need you tonight.” Buddy wrapped his arms around her and pressed his body against hers.

Khan shivered. She could feel the pulse of his penis pressing against her thigh. No, she thought, he did not have a little dick. Desire unleashed months of pent-up passion. She lowered her hands and gently massaged his penis until she could hear his sharp intake of breath on her neck. He unleashed his hot tongue along her neck then inserted it into her mouth.

His kiss, as they shared one breath, sealed the chamber of her body to her lover, fusing their souls as they continued to drink from the wells of each other’s mouths.

When the kiss deepened even more, she eased her thigh between his and began grinding her pelvis bone against his rock-hardness. She felt him beginning to move, and she reached down and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. Now she felt like the predator.

He stepped back, and she could hear him unzipping his pants and shedding his heavy clothing.

And when she reached out for him, touching him, lower and lower, until she felt the power and strength of him, it was like reaching into a chrysalis. She felt an unspeakable delight. At first she stroked him there. Then, feeling his need, she slid her fingers down the length of him, massaging him in slow, sweeping strokes.

“What’d you say the name of that cologne was, baby?”

“Amazon,” she teased. “I was told it brought out the Tarzan in a man.”

“Mmm, a jungle woman. Just what I need.” Buddy undressed her with considerable swiftness. And they stood in the middle of the living room, reveling in the freedom of their nakedness. There was no music to charm the moment, and they didn’t need any. Lightning pulsed through the window. Their only orchestra, the rain outside, provided a natural melody.

Buddy’s eyelids twitched ever so slightly in the heat of the moment, his pelvis moving with the beat of her nimble fingers into a comfortable rhythm of orgasmic ecstasy.

And their pelvic bones merged together, creating a louder noise than the one they heard seconds earlier.