One Safe Place Read online

  “Lois Mae, don’t talk about his moves around here. This is a PG boat ride until the poetry starts.” Everyone laughed.

  “Tylowe, you got nerve. How many times is Meeah going to squeeze your butt as if she were checking a flotation device to see if it will float?” Lois Mae and Tylowe always had regular, playful banter.

  Gabrielle whispered in Psalms’ ear that she wanted to dance. It was rare for her to be in public relaxing with everyday people. Most of what she said or did publicly was carefully measured to protect her from being misquoted in off-the-cuff remarks. In her mind, the opportunity to dance with her man freely was almost as good as sex.

  “Babe,” Psalms whispered back to Gabrielle, “I’m not shaking my ass down to the ground, except maybe later tonight when we’re alone.”

  She smiled as her skin heated from the thought.

  Mintfurd Elongate walked by, along with Velvet. Some called Mintfurd “Big Boy” instead of his given name. He and Velvet were announcing that the spoken word and jazz show would be starting soon in the performance ballroom, and they wanted people to head inside.

  Mintfurd and Psalms were college foes in wrestling. Mintfurd went on to the Olympics, and Psalms went into the service. Relocating to Seattle on an invite from Psalms, Mintfurd now used his brain and his brawn for security work. Together, he and Psalms designed and installed custom surveillance equipment.

  Mintfurd wasn’t an ugly, fat dude, nothing like a thuggish-looking Rick Ross. Despite his size—more than six feet six inches, and 400 hundred-plus pounds—Mintfurd had the prettiest face a man could have. At least that is what women thought and said. He had a noticeable, alluring mole near his bottom lip and attractive, kissable lips. It wasn’t that he looked obese. His facial features weren’t stretched and his stomach didn’t hang. Even men much taller looked small compared to him with his wide bodily girth. He was just a mountain of a man: a good-looking, handsome, and huge man. When he smiled, it looked as though he were blushing and made him look younger.

  Sadly, his size kept women from thinking about any kind of relationship with him. The average-sized woman looked like a child near him. Even a woman like Lois Mae, at six feet tall and not exactly slender, still disappeared behind him.

  Women whispered ignorantly about whether he had a small penis, as many believed to be true of men his size. Some thought he might not be able to get it up—another rumored problem. Then there was the visual thought of what sex would be like with a man his size. One thing women did love about him was his voice—a mink-fur soft baritone. Yet, women avoided him as partner, but befriended him as big brother. The same women who couldn’t imagine themselves sleeping with him, would close their eyes, and listen to his voice to vibrate their clit.

  Because his size intimidated most women, prostitutes had been his only sexual outlet. Unknown to women, Mintfurd had no problems in the bed. All the prostitutes could attest to his penis size, and his hardness being worthy of feeling. Many were amazed that his body size had remarkably little effect on how he could move smoothly, quickly, and powerfully. Psalms treated Mintfurd as a little brother, feeling in some ways sorry that the man had never felt love.

  People started moving to the warmth inside with drinks in hand, leaving the tranquil Northwest fresh air. A camera couldn’t do justice to the night sights of the boat from the shore. The ladies, Gabrielle, Meeah, Velvet, Lois Mae, and Vanessa, all hung back as the guys moved inside to secure their seats.

  Darcelle made it on board just in time, and approached Velvet and Lois Mae, her good friends. She was in better spirits realizing that no matter how tough her conversation had been with PB, he was going to help her out of a sticky situation.

  Darcelle was introduced to Gabrielle, and the girls sipped their drinks while the men finished setting up inside for the show.

  “Gabby, I know it must feel good for you to be around, quote, unquote, regular folks,” Lois Mae said. The others chimed in with nods and short vocal affirmations.

  “Ladies, to be honest, it has been since before I was anywhere near politics that I could let my hair down, so to speak.”

  The music coming out of the speakers almost every twenty feet sounded like a concert. Maysa Leak’s jazzy voice asked, “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?”

  Normally, Gabrielle spoke with confidence. But that was all a façade. Speaking abstractly with and to associates, political cronies, and Sunday morning talk shows had poisoned a lot of her heart. It was difficult for her to be totally honest in her communications. She wanted to let words flow from her soul, but it was a challenge. She had to work hard at trusting her heart to be out on her sleeve. Psalms made it easy for her in their one-on-one relationship, but with other men and women, she had to ease in to being open as she spoke.

  “I want to thank you all for accepting me despite my political stances. Every time I come to Seattle, you guys take time to go out shopping with me, or to hang out. Most of us love the comfort and safety that a man can bring us and give us, but I need my sisters just as much and often more, than anything in the world. This is much better than having power over men and nations, being out here on this ferry moving to nowhere fast, just going, without people making a fuss because I’m here . . .I’m happy.”

  “Honey, normal is what you make it. With all you have heard and seen in your line of public service, we will never see or understand. You get no judgments from any of us. Besides, we can’t believe you’re that conservative, anyway.” Gabrielle led the laughter charge after hearing that.

  “Shhh…I can’t let that get out.” Her smile lifted her cheeks to the deck lights that reflected off of them. “Look at it like this, maybe I was keeping it from being worse than it could have been. When you’re playing with the big dogs, you have to lead them like blind mice to what they think they want to do. Picking my battles and winning is a great feeling in the political arena, no matter what side controls the lies. Yet…I had to fight so hard. When a woman is assertive in a man’s world, they will call her a mad bitch in heels to her face. On one hand, I wanted to be reasonable, humble, and thoughtful of those who deserve respect, but on the other hand, I did not want to be thought of as weak.”

  Gabrielle lifted her third cocktail and finished it when most were starting or receiving their second. Liquid courage filtered through her heart to help her speak about her life.

  “What has been said in print, and the news, and by people in general, hurt my father badly. I can only assume it shortened his life to see his baby girl spoken about in such horrible ways. I buried him at sixty-five years old. Now my mother is in full Alzheimer’s, and I can’t help but wonder if there is a connection to her not wanting to remember the things she has heard said about me? Now it’s just my little sister and me, and I’m protective of her. I don’t want her to be near any spotlight or have to care for my mother alone. I want her to live out of the spectacle of my life. I want her to live her life free and clear. I help as much as I can, but I worry. She makes poor choices in men.”

  A police boat cruised by, causing a slow roll of the ferry from side to side.

  “Lord, don’t let me get seasick,” Velvet said. “I hope this ginger ale helps.”

  “You’ll be fine. If my big Texas ass can withstand it, you can, too,” Lois Mae said, as the women laughed a bit.

  “Nah, girl, I’m not talking about the waves; I’m talking about poor choices in men,” Velvet explained. “You look up women who make poor choices in men on Google, and my picture pops up in record time. Even the slowest computer becomes fast, scrolling for pages with only my face and big ass showing.”

  All the women laughed so loud, people all turned their heads as they were heading in.

  Meeah went and stood by Gabrielle, but spoke to the wind blowing in her face. “Each one of us has seen hurt, pain, and the depth of depression from things that took us down. So today—days like this—are special, and not to be taken lightly by any of us.” Meeah reached down and touched cheeks w
ith Gabrielle. “Life is never what it seems. I think, to a certain degree, we all have false faces to help us get through life. Not that we are living a lie, but…you know. At times, we smile and put on our best face saying life is good. If your heart is hurting, or if you’re tired and confused over the way things are, these are times like now, when you let it all go and feel this breeze lift trouble away for as long as it blows.”

  “Girl, you over here preaching to the choir,” Vanessa said. “Somebody say amen.”

  Velvet had actually lifted her finger to signal she had something to say. “I shouldn’t speak for everyone, but all of us know death and birth, love and other struggles, and the good life. Girl, you better make life the best it can be. Gabrielle, your sister will be all right. She’s got you to look up to. And I know it took me a minute to get it right. I see myself in the mirror physically and spiritually, and think sometimes, life has passed me by. I’m not hot and sexy as I was at twenty-five. My butt is still round, but now it’s around the bend. And, ah, ah, I’m only forty-two and—”

  Lois Mae cut Velvet off. “Skillet, you’re going to hell for lying, your around-the-bend-ass is forty-eight, the same as I am. There are no men near us; you can tell the truth.”

  Velvet almost spit her soda on her coat. “Okay, you don’t have to tell the fish in the water. There might be one of them bald eagles flying by who might squawk to a potential man.”

  The ladies were laughing as Lois Mae teased her best friend. They had a long history, even at one time sharing the same man. They had worked through tough friendship times. “Convoluted, silly girl . . .please. There is a big difference between a bald eagle pooping on your head and a Seahawks football player pooping on your life. I’m talking about men who are most likely twenty-plus years younger than you are. Those boys are not getting down with your cougar attack when a herd of young, cheerleading kitty kat and potential baby mamas are lined up. You can look, but keep your old long-in-the-tooth cougar butt out of the fresh, kitty kat litter box.”

  The laughter might have made it to land from the middle of the lake. The long version of Isaac Hayes’ “Joy” had Gabrielle and the other ladies’ heads bobbing and feet tapping. She stood straight as a photographer came by. The ladies lined the rail and took many photos before they headed inside to enjoy the performances.

  CHAPTER 12

  Some Rivers Can’t Be Damned

  “Stepping to the microphone, Seattle’s Queen of Spoken Word, Empress Oasis.” Tylowe, the MC for the show, walked away from the stage. A tall woman with regal, old style afro puffs walked in front of the microphone and nodded to the bass player to start his groove. She captured all eyes because her breasts were at least a bra size H, and fully supported under a red, full-length evening grown.

  The lights lowered, and candlelight on the tables reflected off of the glass and silver. Everyone in the room felt sexy. A large platter of seafood was on each table, filled with clams, shrimp, cod, and oysters settled over rice pilaf and hummus. It was all-you-could-eat at each table.

  “Thank you for having me as your verbal aphrodisiac oasis as you enjoy your meal. Here is something to go with those oysters.”

  Come to Me

  Let us prepare a blazing, scorching, hardening, liquefying meal of each other

  Pre-heating…melting in grooves

  Mr. Maestro, Ms. Virtuoso…arrangement in the front and rear

  Cymbal ride my ass in rhythm

  I come to hear and taste you 33 and 1/3 red vinyl perfect-circled-black-velvet-textured

  fusion

  Mixing me

  Pound my soul and I whisper…my favorite things…in your ear

  Slow cooking…defrosting dreams of body and soul in 4/4 time while I’m on all fours

  Dou making love around the center-island stage

  A taste of gospel runs, I chant…stirred Afro-Blues, I moan…whispered baritone

  mood, I hear you groan and grunt

  Smoky finish…flugelhorn ballad…boiling…simmering curving this diva in the

  positions you crave

  Sweet cream…sweat drop flavoring…balladeer kisses the cook

  I’m stirring and spooning

  Keys of 88 ingredients turn our sheets in to erotic music of direction

  You add a pinch of this and that, and slap my ass

  I consume the mix and the remix

  You lick my bowl

  I turn the heat up

  Make you watch the late show

  I sniff and suck my finger that was in my bowl

  You squeeze your utensil

  Damn it’s time to clean up before we go for any more sweets

  But suck on this…to inspire me to turn my broiler on High and I cook your meat to well

  done and firm, but it feels so tender going in my mouth…

  Empress Oasis ran her fingers over her nipples teasingly and blew a kiss. Then she reached between her breasts and pulled out a large strawberry. Her tongue reached out and licked it in a long stroke before she bit deeply. Juice dripped off her lips and fell between her breasts. The audience went wild with a roar. The evening went on with various jazz vocalists and spoken word with erotic themes.

  Dancing took place during the show intermission. Tylowe and Meeah went outside, and they both leaned on the rail. They didn’t face each other. Many words needed to be said, all of which seemed to be anchored to the bottom of the lake. There was trouble in paradise. In their life, trouble was like, what is that smell, when you can’t identify what, where, and how. They kept staring into the dark water, but a song temporarily purified and clarified their hearts, through their ears. “Make It Like It Was” by Regina Belle, sung in to their problems.

  They turned toward each other with almost smiles. Eyes met.

  “Baby.” Tylowe leaned in and kissed Meeah’s cheek.

  “Baby,” she said back to him, and leaned in and kissed his bottom lip. “Please tell me your thoughts.

  “A relationship like ours—all these years, I couldn’t have had God do any better. I’m blessed, but…but there is something different between us, and it is almost impossible to know what it is.”

  “Almost?”

  “Tylowe, I want you to know I acknowledge whatever we are experiencing. It’s no fun for either of us.” Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks and dried by the time they reached her chin from the wind blowing. She felt her facial skin tighten in the tracks of her tears. “It can’t be just one thing, so tell me one thing at least before we go back inside soon.”

  The couple stared again into the dark water. Tylowe and Meeah might as well have been wandering at sea in a raft with no wind or oars. Thoughts might be tied to an anchor dragging on the bottom of the lake and dredging mud with no substance.

  “Are you still in love with me?”

  “Yes, Meeah, I am still in love with you, but I’m not your shining black knight anymore.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “For the very reason you would ask me why. Meeah, you poured praise of me as the man who made your life worth living. You stopped telling me things that made me feel I was that man, some time ago.”

  “I stopped?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Damn.”

  “Damn, what?”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Tylowe, nothing has changed in how I feel about you. But…could it be we are taking each other for granted? I, too, feel I’m not the queen you worshipped. What is happening to us? We don’t fight; we make love almost all the time. You still look as good as the day I first set eyes on you.”

  “Hey, baby, you are more beautiful now that you’re not so skinny.” He lifted her chin and smiles met their sightline.

  “I was never skinny. I see we can still joke and laugh with and at each other, so what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have the answer, but I want it to be like it was.”

  “Tylowe, you are my prince, and I look at us after all these years and how hap
py we used to be. And we have been happy up until…I don’t know. All I can do is live in the memory of when I used to make you happy.”

  “Meeah, I do the same, I wake up with how we used to get up and live, and go back to bed as one. We are not those same lovers we used to be. But, we have to go inside now.”

  “Are we fading away…away from each other?”

  Tylowe tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips tight, wishing she had not asked that question. Their eyes met, but had no focus. He put his hand in the middle of her back and guided her back inside for the second half of the show.

  Once inside the doors, they kissed—an automatic reflex, with not one ounce of passion. Meeah’s body seemed to deflate. She wanted to go back outside and crawl over the rail and hope a lifeboat was waiting. She went to the ladies’ room, and he went to the stage.

  Another detached moment of incompleteness swooped down like a Bald Eagle feeding on something no human wanted. Snow melted on mountains many miles away, flooding rivers into empty coldness in Lake Washington. Tylowe’s soul walked back into a warm room, but with frozen thoughts attached, and they weighed down his soul as if a snow-packed mountain had avalanched on him.

  Lost in their direction, it felt like cold-water contractions in their relationship. Of course, many times words spoken are often reflexes of not knowing what to say, leading to what you actually meant to say and how you honestly feel. Once words enter into someone’s ears, they can’t be pulled back. When the “send” button is hit, the email is then read and received. For sure, the text will hardly cover what the heart wants someone to know. Meeah and Tylowe had been trying to reach each other, and nothing seemed to find its way home. They tried to use memories of better days, and let them transcend in to feelings that would save their connection.

  Manipulating the past in to feelings of “We are okay” had fallen overboard. Their marriage—the spark—was still desired, but could they renew or rekindle it? Images alone of what used to be could not fill their consciousness without knowing what the problems were. Where is the love?