Ain't No Sunshine Page 8

  Slowly, forcing one foot at a time to move, I walked toward the porch. I sat next to her on the steps, the way I used to do when we were children. I remembered the countless times she had doctored my wounds there. She always took care of me. Now it was my turn to take care of her and I couldn't.

  "My grandmother's dead," she said after a few moments, still staring into space.

  "I know." I lifted my hand to place it on her shoulder and paused. I put my hand back on my leg. How was a brother supposed to touch his sister? I didn't know. I thought it best not to touch her at all.

  We sat in silence as I racked my brain, trying to figure out a way to comfort her. There was nothing I could say. Nothing I could do but sit there. Hopefully, that was enough to let her know that I would always be there for her.

  "It's true, isn't it?" she said finally.

  "What is?"

  "He's my father."

  I closed my eyes tightly to hold back the tears that instantly formed. I nodded.

  "Last week my grandmother started coughing and didn't stop. I knew she was going to die. I started going through all the documents I could find, trying to figure out –”

  She stopped abruptly and put her head in her hands. Then she took a deep breath and said, "He's my legal guardian. Always has been." She lifted her head at stared at the same spot of nothingness. "Why in the world would he want custody of a little nigger girl unless I was his little nigger girl?"

  "Ruthie, don't talk like that."

  She stood and turned toward me. "Why not? Why the hell not? What does it matter? What am I supposed to do, Stephen?"

  I stood as well and reached for her. She spun away from me.

  "I feel like I'm trapped in some sort of nightmare and I can't wake up," she said, digging her fingers into her scalp. "Just tell me this isn't real. Tell me we're not brother and sister. Tell me I'm not completely alone in the world. Tell me you love me and we'll be together forever."

  I folded her into my arms and let her cry on my chest. I couldn't tell her any of that. I did love her, but what good would it have done to tell her that?

  ***

  "I've asked Ruthie to move in with us," my father said the next night at dinner.

  I was too stunned to respond, so I just stared at him.

  "She's my daughter and she should be with her family," he continued. "She should be with me, her father. There's no need for her to live alone in that cottage."

  I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Was he completely delusional? What was all this talk about family?

  "She can stay in Matthew's old room."

  My stomach knotted. This situation was getting more and more twisted. How was I supposed to live in the same house with the woman I loved, who also happened to be my sister? Not only that, but she was to sleep in my dead brother's room?

  "How can you be so insensitive?" I heard the words spoken in my own voice, but somehow I didn't recognize that I had said them until I saw my father's face.

  I couldn't think of a worse torture. It was bad enough knowing she was just a short walk away at her cottage. Having her in the same house with me, with just a wall separating us, would be unbearable.

  Thankfully, my mother sensed my anxiety.

  "What will people think?" she said, not lifting her eyes from her plate.

  Was it possible that my father hadn't even considered the scandal this would cause? My father opened his mouth to dispute my mother, but nothing came out. Instead, he silently left the table and went to his room. That was the last we heard of that idea.

  "You have a phone call," my mother said a week later as I was lying in bed. I thought maybe it was Julius wanting to get together to play ball or something.

  "I'm not here." I wasn't ready to reenter the world yet. It had been a month since my disastrous attempt to go back to school. I was probably flunking out. I didn’t care. I knew my father would figure out some way to force my teachers to pass me. I had spent so much of the past two months in bed that I had forgotten how to interact with people. I hadn’t even seen my parents since my father’s ridiculous request to let Ruthie move in with us a week ago. I was falling apart.

  "It sounds important," she continued.

  "Take a message." My mother hesitated a moment, trying to figure out something to say to get me out of bed. Apparently, nothing came to her because she just turned around and left. A few minutes later she came back.

  "He won't leave a message. He says he really needs to talk to you." Annoyed, I threw my blanket off and tossed my legs over the side of the bed. It took more energy than I thought and I fell back down. My mother reached out to steady me, but I swatted her arm away. I felt lightheaded and dizzy from too much sleep and not enough food. I had to brace myself on my dresser for a while before I had the strength to make it all the way to the living room to pick up the phone.

  "What," I said flatly when I finally made it.

  "Stephen, you need to get down to Paul Morrison's house now." I couldn't believe Julius had gotten me out of bed to invite me to a party. Was that what was so important? And a party at Paul's house, no less. I hated that guy. I couldn't think of one reason why I would ever need to step foot in his house.

  "Julius, I'm sick. I think I'm gettin' the flu or somethin'. Maybe next weekend -"

  "It's Ruthie," he interrupted me. "Get here, now."

  Chapter 20

  I dropped the phone and looked for my keys. I hadn't driven anywhere in weeks so I had no idea where they could be. I finally found them on top of the refrigerator and dashed out the door. It wasn't until I was sitting behind the wheel that I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt, but I didn't care. Ruthie was in trouble. She needed me.

  When I got to Paul's house, Julius was waiting for me on the curb.

  "What took you so long?"

  "Where is she? What's wrong?"

  "Damn, Stephen, what happened to you?" he asked when he saw the bruises on my chest.

  "I said, ‘where is she?’" I grabbed Julius by the collar. I was losing my patience with him. If Ruthie was in trouble, I didn't want to waste time with irrelevant questions.

  "Calm down. She's inside."

  "What's wrong with her?"

  "She's drunk. She's not acting like herself. I was afraid something might happen to her." I let go of him and looked around. There were cars everywhere. It was one of Paul's famous parties that usually ended with a police raid and several people going to jail on possession charges. This was not Ruthie's type of party. How did she get involved with these people?

  "She wouldn't listen to me. That girl has a wild side I never knew about," Julius said. I gave him a fierce look before he went any further. I didn't want to know the details of what she had done tonight.

  I was marching up towards the front door, intent on taking Ruthie home, when Julius grabbed my arm. "Wait a minute, Stephen. You can't just go barging in there like some sort of barbarian, throw her over your shoulder and run out. You gotta play it cool. Here, take my jacket." I put on his jacket and flipped up the collar. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to calm down. It didn't really matter, though. When I got inside the house, most of the people were passed out. The rest were too drunk to pay much attention to me.

  The house was completely trashed and smelled of beer and vomit. Paul was fairly wealthy, so it struck me as odd that he would let people destroy his house like this. But I really didn't care about Paul or his house right now. I had to find Ruthie. I made my way through the living room, the den, the kitchen, stepping over bottles, cans and people -- still no sign of her. Julius and I started opening bedroom doors and glancing in, but I was really hoping not to find her in any of them. Behind each door was a progressively worse scenario: rooms filled with smoke or beds filled with naked bodies. It took only a few seconds to determine that Ruthie wasn't in any of these rooms. Most of the occupants were white. The only black people I'd seen at the party at all were Julius, Anthony Everson, and three black girls whos
e names I couldn't think of.

  After circling the house three times, Julius wanted to give up.

  "Maybe she caught a ride home," he said.

  "I have to be sure." I headed outside toward my truck. I saw Ruthie down the street, making out with Bruce Connelly against his car. My heart raced and ached. I knew she had to move on. Would I ever get used to seeing her with other men?

  Ruthie got into Bruce's car and they drove off. I don't know why, but I followed them.

  They ended up at his house. I watched as he opened her car door and then led her to front door of his house. Once inside, he turned on some music and they started slow dancing in his living room.

  I was so jealous of him. I wanted to be the one dancing with her. They started kissing and I had to hold myself back. I wanted to go in there and get him away from her. But that wasn't my job. She had chosen to go out with him and she obviously liked him.

  He didn't kiss her the way I did. He didn't gently savor every soft curve of her lips. His kisses were hard and crude. He was increasingly rougher with her. It almost looked like he was trying to force her to go further. Ruthie must have gotten the same impression because she pulled away from him. It looked like she was trying to explain something to him, like she didn't want to kiss anymore, but he didn't listen to her and started to kiss her again. This time when she pulled away he slapped her across the face. I jumped out of my truck as fast as I could and ran to the house. The door was locked. I could hear Ruthie screaming inside, but I couldn't get in. Finally, I punched through the glass in the door and unlocked it from the inside. By the time I reached the living room, Bruce had ripped her shirt open and was lying on top of her, trying to remove her panties. I pulled him off of her and threw him across the room.

  "Stephen? What the --" I punched him in the face. He staggered back, then touched his mouth as if he couldn't believe he was bleeding.

  "Come on, Stephen. You had your chance with her; now it's time to share." I lost control. I tackled him and we crashed into his coffee table. I don't know how many times I hit him. He went unconscious, but I just kept beating him. In my mind, his face turned into my father's. I could have killed him. I thought I was going to, but I heard Ruthie pleading with me to stop.

  I turned around and she was quivering in the corner, clutching her ripped blouse to her chest. I went over to pick her up and she jerked away from me. At first, she wouldn't let me touch her.

  "Ruthie, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." I kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. She stared into my eyes for a moment as if she was trying to remember who I was. Finally, she put her arms around my neck and I carried her to my truck.

  She fell asleep in my lap on the way to her house. When we got there, I picked her up and carried her to her bed. Tears burned my eyes as I thought of the things we had done in that very bed...and how much I still wanted to do those things.

  I laid her in the bed and turned to leave. I had to get out of there as soon as possible. I didn't know if I could resist the burning desire I had for her.

  "Stephen," she called softly, just as I reached to door to the hallway.

  I let my head fall against the frame. "Yes?"

  "Don't leave me alone. I can't be alone tonight."

  I didn't respond. I couldn't.

  "Stephen, please."

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried to push every romantic or sexual thought out of my mind. Over and over I repeated the phrase, “She's my sister.”

  "Okay," I said, when I felt like I had control.

  I went over to the bed, covered her with the blanket and then sat down rigidly. She reached for me. "Hold me, Stephen."

  I didn't want to, but how could I deny her comfort after what she'd been through tonight?

  I inched closer, then lifted her and held her against my chest. Our breathing synced; our chests rose and fell in unison. We stayed like that for so long that I thought she'd fallen asleep. But I was wrong.

  "I love you, Stephen," she said into my chest.

  I didn't respond.

  "And not like a sister loves her brother. I love you like a woman loves her man. I love you with the overwhelming, blinding passion of a thousand suns."

  Why was she telling me this?

  "Don't do this, Ruthie. Don't make this any harder than it already is. We can't be together."

  "Why not?" She sat up and looked at me. "This isn't our fault. We didn't choose this. Why should we be punished for the mistakes of our parents?"

  "Ruthie, we –"

  "Make love to me, Stephen."

  "What?" I jumped off the bed, needing to put as much distance as possible between us.

  "If we do it once knowing the truth, it will get easier after that. Soon it won't matter at all. Because it doesn't. It doesn't matter."

  She had a possessed look in her eyes as she stood up and followed me. Did she really believe what she was saying?

  My body erupted in flames when she kissed me. It had been too long. She started ripping off my clothes and guided me toward the bed.

  "Make love to me, Stephen. Please."

  Maybe she was right. Maybe it didn't matter. No one else had to know.

  "Oh, Ruthie. I love you. I love you. I love you," I said, trying to make up for the weeks I hadn't allowed myself to say it out loud.

  We undressed each other feverishly. Soon were completely naked on the bed. Caressing. Rubbing. But then, as if on cue, we stopped and turned away from each other. Ruthie started crying. We couldn't do it. Not now that we knew the truth.

  I grabbed what I could find of my clothes and went to sleep on the couch.

  Chapter 21

  Sometime before dawn I forced my eyelids open and saw Ruthie sitting at the end of the couch. Without saying a word, she handed me a cup of coffee.

  "I'm sorry about last night," she said after I'd taken a few sips.

  "You don't have to apologize."

  She stared down at her hands. "I shouldn't have gone to Bruce's house. I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "It's not your fault."

  We fell into silence. The sun peeked through the yellow curtains of her living room. I needed to get home soon, before Father realized I was gone.

  "Let me see your hand," she said when I'd finished my coffee. Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she was trying to hold back an onslaught of tears. At first I wondered why she wanted my hand, but then I remembered that I'd punched through a glass window the night before. My hand was swollen and encrusted with dried blood. She took some tweezers and tried to get out all the remnants of glass before she cleaned the cuts and scrapes. I just stared at her the entire time. There she was, taking care of me again. I was glad I had been there for her last night when she needed me. It was nice to return the favor, for once.

  "I couldn't get it all. You may want to get some stitches or take some medicine so it won't get infected," she said as she wrapped my fist with gauze and kissed it. I caressed her face with my other hand, just relishing the opportunity to touch her, to spend time with her. She closed her eyes tightly and leaned into my touch. "I can't take this anymore."

  I dropped my hand and turned away. I knew what she meant. Seeing each other nearly every day and not being able to be together was slowly killing us.

  "I'm going back to New York."

  I took a deep breath. "When?" I couldn't fight her. I couldn't beg her to stay. I just had to accept it.

  She shrugged. "Today, I guess. Nothing is keeping me here. I have no reason to stay."

  "Where will you live?"

  She sighed. "A girl from the art school said I could stay with her for a while." Ruthie stood up and hugged herself. "I've been thinking about it for a few weeks, actually. I'll live with Marie; maybe get a job as a waitress or something while I try to sell some of my work."

  I nodded. It was as good a plan as any. "Can I give you some money?" I asked, looking toward the window again. "I've b
een saving since..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I'd been saving money ever since our first kiss by the lake.

  "No, I'm okay. Grandma Esther had some money saved."

  The silence crashed upon us. I stood and slipped my feet into my sneakers. After throwing on my coat, I headed for the door. "Do you need anything?" I asked, my hand resting on the doorknob. Part of me wanted her to say she needed me. But what good would that have done? We needed to end this torment. Putting a few states between us was probably the most logical thing to do.

  "Just a ride to the bus station," she said.

  I nodded. "I'll pick you up in two hours?"

  "Okay."

  Chapter 22

  "So, Ruthie moved back to New York and you stayed in Virginia?" Lt. Drake asked

  I nodded.

  Lt. Drake looked at his watch. "It's almost five a.m. Why don't I get us some caffeine?"

  I nodded again then started rubbing the soreness out of my neck muscles as Lt. Drake left the room in search of drinks. I was beyond exhausted. Ruthie and I hadn't slept much during the four days we were on the run. And sitting in the same place all night, rehashing my turbulent life, added to my emotional fatigue.

  Lt. Drake returned and placed a bottle of soda and a stale donut in front of me.

  "Thanks," I said, before biting into it. I was so hungry I would've eaten anything. I wondered if Ruthie had been given more in the way of sustenance than me.

  "Is Ruthie okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah, she's fine. She's asleep in a holding cell."

  "She's in a cell?" I nearly choked on a crumb of donut. They were treating her like a criminal.

  "Relax; she's not under arrest or anything. She's just using the bed to get some sleep."

  I sighed in relief. I was glad she was getting the much-needed rest, but I missed her.

  "Can I see her?"

  Lt. Drake rubbed his chin. "I don't know -"