Kiss: Chapter 2, Shit Aint Cool

“KIIIIISSSSSYYYYY!”
I turned around pushing my head further into the covers.
“Kissy get yo black ass in here NOW!”
I groaned and rolled over until I had to catch myself from falling out of my twin size flowered cot. I wiped the fogginess from my eyes pulling a t-shirt over my naked chest and walked down the hall. Leaning against the door of the kitchen, I rolled my eyes at the sight of Grandnanny trying in vain to cook some scrambled eggs. Now I was only thirteen but I knew eggs have no part of them that’s supposed to be black.
“Kissy I don’t know what the hell your mama did to this stove but I’m going to whip her ass when she gets back here!”
I sighed and grabbed four more eggs from the basket and flipped the old crusty crap she was fixing into the trash. Four minutes later, eggs were on each plate piping hot and yellow.
“Thanks Kissy love.” She laid a quick kiss on my cheek and I nodded. True to her word when Momma got home from her twelve to six shift ten minutes later I heard Nanny’s nasal high voice shrieking and whining. I was used to this Monday morning charade so I went back to dressing myself for school, fixing my long brown plaits myself and fixing rubber bands to the ends. When I walked into the kitchen, Momma had already picked herself up and was rubbing her jaw gently not crying or talking just looking at the floor. That witch was checking her lipstick in the mirror over the stove.
I sat my satchel down on the floor and winked at Momma who kissed the air in front of me. It was custom to have us all sit down at seven o’clock. As the big mahogany grandfather clock would chime its first chime of the seven, my granddaddy would waltz into the kitchen. He’d scoop Grandnanny up into his arms and dance with her to inaudible music ; music silent to those who weren’t supposed to be in that happy bubble. Momma and I always sat in amazement watching them. Both of us longing to hear the music-- just one note.
“Kissy how’s school. Getting them grades?”
“Yes sir.” I clutched my fork and willed myself to eat when for all the years of my life I was never hungry at this time of morning.
“Tell Mrs. Driver she can pick up that fifth of shine at noon.”
I said nothing as Daddy went back to his plate. I didn’t plan on seeing Mrs. Driver today or any other day. I skipped her class everyday there wasn’t a test and still made perfect scores. Shoot, she didn’t care…less students for her to deal with.
A rock tapped the window slightly and I gobbled down my eggs hurriedly. I kissed my mother and simply looked at my grandparents. A second rock made its presence known in the glass as I gripped my satchel and raced out the door.
“Damn girl you git slower eday.” My best friend, T.J. Miles smiled up at me, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his cap down over his eyes.
“Nah, you get more impatient everyday, Negro.” I rolled my eyes and caught stride beside him. He leaned down and I took the cigarette out his mouth greatfully.
“You going to school today?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. That brotherly eyebrow.
“I guess so. Ain’t shit else to do.”
‘Amen to that.”
“You can’t say that.”
“Say what.”
“Amen to that.” I say mocking his deep voice.
“Why not ?”
“Cuz,,I used the word shit. You can’t say Amen to something with shit in it”
“Kissi?”
“Yeah”
“Shut the hell up.”
I took one more puff and put it back in his mouth laughing. When I got to school, I quickly changed my mind. I let T.J. take me to my class to make sure he didn’t think I was ditching, then after morning roll, I asked to go to the bathroom and shimmied my 5’6 frame out of that little bathroom window thanking God that this morning I didn’t have one of those doughnuts Granddaddy buys and places on top the fridge. I hated the confinement of school, the feeling of one dilapidated building being my universe for eight hours appealed to me about as much as a route canal with no Novocain.
I walked a long time. I walked until I came to an open field on the outskirts of town. I sat down in the long weeds and pulled a cigarette from my training bra. Pulling a fifty cent lighter I stole from the 711 from my back pack. I lit and sat back letting my mind drift into a place where thoughts were not necessary and definitely not recommended.
The next thing I felt is a gentle grabbing of my belt loop and a not so gentle yank to my feet. Disoriented I fell backwards into the grass. Pushing my bangs from my eyes I looked up.
“Damnit Kissi, I swear I should hurt you. What you doing out here? I woulda come wit you.”
T.J. looked so pissed, I wanted to cry. I didn’t even know a guy that dark could redden that much. I scooted over and looked up at him not saying a word. He watched me as I nervously played with the blades of grass and the black laces of my sneakers. I could feel his eyes scorching the back of my white tank top.
“WHAT!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Aint nothing wrong.”
Sighing He sat down beside me and picked up a rock and began to examine it…twirling it around in his fingers. I had always liked his fingers slim and shapely…no wonder he can play ball and draw like he could. His dark eyes still focused on the white rock he said bluntly.
“When I first met you, you used ta skip every now and then. Now, you skip everyday. Shit aint cool. I know you make good grades anyway but attendance counts lil girl.”
“I just cant stand it and I don’t see how you can either. Teachers suck, sitting in a boring class listenin to them tell you stuff you can figure out yoself.”
“Yea well not everyone is smart as you Kiss.”
“Didn’t say they were.”
He looks up at me for a brief second then shakes his head.
“Arrogant ass.”
I smile to myself wondering why this sixteen year old with such a bright future would wanna hang with someone in my position.
“Were you that worried bout me?”
He smirks and leans over kissing my cheek.
“Come on lets go, we’ll chill today if you promise to do right tomorrow.”
I get up dusting off my jean shorts and following him promising that if someone cared enough to check up on me that I would go to school, everyday and all the time. Hell, even my momma didn’t check up on my school work.

Timeless

I remember you
From a time within me
When I was a gatherer
And you a hunter
And you would run after
My heart for its bounty
I remember you
From a time within me
Where I was a damsel
And you a soldier
And you should chase me
From county to county
I remember you
From a time within me
When I was a dancer
And you were a painter
And you would display
My inner dreams
I remember you
From a time within me
Where you would
Kiss me….
Through eternity’s seams
And within the sands of time
We built castles
I remember you
from a time before we
could be together
And you fought for me
And I clung to you
against discrimination
I remember you
from a time when I didn't
know my greatness
And you shone enough
for both of us
Yes I remember you
even against the haze
of regret and forget
I know you
better than I know me
Because you're my partner
my last
and my memories
my past
And I remember you
And I know you well
And even today I know I will
find you
And love you still.

Romance like the movies
I touch your cheek
My foot raises
And lights to show
and a simple phrase like
I love you
though we just met
And I really dont want to look
stupid yet.
So I
keep it pushing push it back
Dont let it show
that Im blushing wishing hoping
that theres something
I dont know
call it karma as we lay
and I start to remember
what the others used to say
at the beginning
So I turn and chill
smile so polite
secretly hoping
you leave this sight
Past two, I have the same feeling
though my fears are true
so my dreams arent appealing
your mama warned you bout
with your lip poked out
but I aint one to whine
so Ima let you do you
Cuz Ill sing a chorus
Not the whole damn blues

Undressed

I can't be me in this leather
bound fabric, fears together
I can't seem to iron out
this internal self doubt
So I turn and flash you
Hoping you will attach to
my nakedness my truth
my serious side my youth
I need you, untie these knots
Your eyes unwind these thoughts
But you have to like me better
underneath this cashmere sweater
So I show a little skin
two tears a little grin
praying that you'll see
how stiff wool can be
But you like my leather
my tiger prints, my feathers
You place fur over me
as my final coating
so I strut in my heels
look good in my teal
This is who you want
curly hair and pumps
I resign to the fashion
smiles and fake passion
I can't undress myself
I need your help

KISS: Chapter 1, The Origin of Kiss Lavinia

Life aint fair. Now you hear that from all these people throughout your life but for me, I lived, breathed…was that statement. I was born during a tornado warning. Now if that isn’t unlucky, I don’t know what is. I couldn’t even be born on a bird filled drinking lemonade leaves gently falling from the trees kinda day. But I digress.

My name is Kiss Lavinia Tomwell but most people call me Kissy. I was born in an old raggedy barn in Nightingale, Georgia during one of the worst series of storms in the Southeast. While the air was swirling and growling with fury, my mother matched the gusts outside with cries of her own. The first person I ended up seeing was an old white lady who happened to see my pregnant mother walking in the storm and pulled her inside before the worst of it. She saw me and took one look at my dark brown skin and wide eyes and said I looked like a Hershey’s Kiss. I guess my mom thought it would be cute to name me that. I don’t blame her though, she was only fifteen at the time. And so now I’m here… Kiss.

My mother still lived with her father and stepmother in a little blue house on the corner of Wicker Avenue and Harrison Circle. The next morning when the storm had died down, my mother brought me back to that house. My grandfather and Grandnanny were not that shocked to see me in her arms. After her getting pregnant in the first place, I believe they always got themselves ready for odd events.

The first fifteen years of my life were spent in that baby blue house with the porch. My grandfather was a nice man but he was distant. He made sure that my momma knew I was a mistake and in the process that became real clear to me too. He always bought me little pieces of apple candy and licorice or would pat my head when I ran past him to go out and play, but I would always cringe at the way he looked at my mother, like a traitor. I still loved him though like my own father. He was only thirty five when I was born, still king of the world. Every day he would get up and dress in a nice blue or brown suit with matching high gloss Stacy Adams smelling like Ivory soap. His six five slender frame commanded attention but his playful wink and chuckle always made a winning impression. In the little town we lived in, I could name on one hand the people who didn’t like Lester T. Tomwell. He had dimples in each cheek, almond colored skin, and big dark brown eyes. He made sure to get to know each one of the customers who came into his liquor store and never forgot to say hello to a familiar face. He was the It of Nightingale alright.

Now my grandnanny, I call her that because she said she wasn’t ever anyone’s mama and she will never be referred to that way, was Mrs. Lillie Tomwell. She was the member of my life I could have done without. One thing I have to give her was the fact that she was beautiful. She was a real gold color that changed to red in the summer and yellow in the dead of winter. She had the legs of a dancer and hips of a nurturer. Her hair was jet black thick and long and she always let it swing. She was granddaddy’s prize and she always reminded him of that. If he didn’t come home with something for her, you always knew a fight was coming.

And she never liked my momma. You see my momma was competition to her –every bit as pretty and even lighter. They were only separated by a decade so she felt picking on Momma was fair game. Since granddaddy and momma hardly spoke, she would constantly find ways to torment and tease her husband’s teenager. She would only pick on me in dark places though. She knew granddaddy didn’t like her messing with me but she did it anyway. She found ways.

My momma was the saving grace of the house. The only one who I didn’t have to be polite to, just could sit down and talk about anything. She always made me feel that way. She’d sit me down on the bed and whisper real soft.

“I see you poppyseed. Momma sees you. What do you want her to see?”

She asked me that question every night and every night I would shrug and shake my head. She would smile and tuck me into bed.

We were more friends than anything else. I thought of Momma as her name not as her title. We would talk and laugh together for hours. She was still very much a kid. Sometimes I felt like I needed to protect her. She felt like she needed to protect me. We needed to protect each other.

Stormy Weather

It is the dark rainy evening portrayed in horror movies. I sit by the mountain cliff, legs dangling off the side. My drenched hair and clothing cling to my skin but I feel no rain. They will come for me soon.

Knowing I had little time, my mind drifted back to the past few hours. The beautiful redhead in black is sitting in my parlor as I come in from Mother’s. I pause briefly to hide my shock and ask politely who she is. Her eyes widen and she calls my husband’s name. Happier than ever, he leisurely strolls into the room with her refill of champagne. Only after he saw me did his face and the glass drop. Instantly, rage overtakes me. How dare he? How dare she? Tears of anger blind me as I race from the room. My husband, Jason follows me through the house frantically calling my name. As I pass the guest bedroom, I see the letter opener gleaming red from the sunset. I grab it and hide beside the night stand. My husband’s calls grow louder and louder.

“Maam? What are you doing out in this weather?”

The rain has eased because I make out a police officer’s uniform. He is a thirty something bald man with pale skin and a whiny voice. I hear myself tell him that I was just out for a stroll. He tells me to come with him. I oblige and get into the cruiser, looking out the window to tune out the officer’s chatter.

My breathing slows as I hear the footsteps bringing Jason closer to my hiding place. Images of the woman and my husband streak through my mind like marathon runners. I can feel my sanity leaving my body. The maniacal personality of a scorned woman overtakes my body and murder overtakes my mind. I press my body into the wall as the door opens. A scream tears from my throat. It wasn’t Jason.

“Coffee Miss?”

“What? Thank You.” I did not remember getting out of the car or walking into the building. I tell myself to get a grip. Time never moves backwards.

“We’ll keep you here ‘til the rain dies back down.”

I cup the lukewarm coffee into my hands and look around the walls of the small town police station. The walls are a dingy white and all the chairs have ripped seat cushions. This place looks as dull as I feel. This is where I belong. Leaning back in the seat, I watch three other officers enter the room. They pause at the sight of me while the bald man tells them the story. I do not smile or blink; my mind carries me back once more.

Her hair is the most beautiful red I have ever seen. Her eyes are bright and her figure is flawless. At least he picked a gorgeous mistress. She walks toward me explaining the situation and trying to say soothing words. Her name was Regina. The name fit her youthful dignified aura. I am more irritated at her tone than the discovery of her in my house. I clutch the opener and lunge forward at her. A scuffle erupts. I fight like a madwoman; she fights like a guilty child. It ends in her blood. I stumble away as if in a dream. Gasping for breath, I drop the letter opener and lean on the wall for support. What had I done? The tears of anger return as tears of despair. I went from eating teacake with my mother this morning to a slain woman by my feet at nightfall.

I sniffle as my mind connects with my body. The officers are staring blankly at me. They probably know the situation and soon will put me behind bars. Instead of angry words or the click of handcuffs, I feel the warmth of a blanket against my shoulders. Another officer wraps my soaked hair with a coverlet and sits down in front of me.

At once they start asking me why a beautiful woman is sitting by herself in the rain. Where did you come from? Who are you? Are you married? I sip the bitter coffee as I tell them my name is Alexandra Mellon Jeffrey and I am still married. I live on 122 Sunny Haven and I was just out for a stroll.

After telling them several miscellaneous facts about me, they begin to bombard me with their pasts. I listen intently trying to gather names. Only one officer catches my attention. Lieutenant William Jones has prominent features and a stately presence. He talks of his deceased mother and beautiful young sister. His mother is the daughter of the millionaire of Charleston, Richard De Pointes. His sister is all he has in the world and he feels more like a father than a brother. They lived together outside of Charleston because his sister loves the country. Running fingers through his fire red hair, he eagerly shares his hopes and dreams for his eighteen year old darling. I tell William his love for his sister is respectable and I wish them happiness. He kindly smiles and says thank you. I ask him if he has any pictures of his family and he dashes off to search for his photos.

An officer named Kyle continues with a story of his Cocker Spaniel when the front door opens. My husband looks relieved to see me and immediately rushes to my side. Apparently finding a shovel does not take that long. I introduce him to the men coldly.

“Thank you, officers, for rescuing my wife. The rain must have gotten her off course. Now that the rain has let up, I can assist her to the car. We are going to take a trip to her mother’s.” I raise an eyebrow and push his hand off my shoulders. My mother only lives ten minutes away and Jason hates her. I see the young woman’s clear blue eyes in my head, suddenly wishing my husband had been outside that door.

I stand and thank the man that brought me to the station. As Jason and I leave and walk to the car, he whispers that everything is taken care of. He adamantly states how sorry he is and this was the first and final betrayal of my love. No one will ever know of his transgressions or mine. The sound of his voice turns my stomach and only cowardice stops me from running back into the station. As we pull away from the station, the young man runs out waving a photograph. I watch him slowly fade from sight in the drizzling rain, too exhausted to ask Jason to stop the car.

Watching the car speed into the darkness, William Jones finally lowers the photograph as his friend comes to his side. Alexandra was such a beautiful woman that he could not help fondness for her. He prayed silently that she would find comfort for the problems ailing her. Wanting to get home, he goes inside to collect his belongings. One of the officers stops him placing a hand on his shoulder.

“That Alexandra is a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, too bad I didn’t get to give her the picture. Regina would have loved her.”

Persistence Personified

Slowly you make your way into my mind
persistence personified
Even thou I try deep within
To trap you behind my defenses and away from my soul
For this love could be blessed or cursed
And I could care less either way
I want to speak so loudly that the world is awakened
But instead I sip my colada and just breathe
I have never been so shaken
The permanent damage your heat could do
The worlds you could collapse with your words
Yet magnetically pulled and pinned
I let you creep back in once again
And deep down inside my desires caress
My inner imagination
Could we potentially infect the world
With an essence only conceted when
We.....mmmm......slowly
I sip once again and I imagine this
blue hazed world in which we can indeed
Explore this passion that makes me smile
When you slowly make your way into my mind
And my fears are cast upon the sails of hope
What if....maybe.....potentially
And within that minuscule piece of time
you reside....completely
and within that minuscule piece of time
you are mine....completely
I don't know how to move, think, converse
When I'm around you
Yet away from you the galaxy stands between
Our time again
Our beauty is in perception
And for the first time....in a lifetime
I wish my ancestors had not formulated
such revolution and pride
Because if I had to choose between the blues and loving you
We would be together neath a weeping willow tree
Wouldn't care who was beating me
You see baby....I want us to be.....
Timeless, without end or reproach
The historical example of love personified
Then slowly my thoughts are interrupted
By you texting me
And we once again reside in a world
that inhibits and hinders
I text you back....and sip...and sniffle
Gently I wipe away the moistures of reality
And hope you will come over tonight
Why?
That maybe...that possibly....that what if
and within the span of time
Hopefully you will become mine
If persistence I personify.