Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
He lowered her to her feet, then rested his chin on top of her wet waves as they slow danced. His hair was heavy and slick with rain, and she was soaked to the bone. It was cold. Wet. Miserable. Yet, somehow, they were suspended in time, unbothered. When the song ended, he helped her back into the truck, and soon, they made it in front of her house. No words were exchanged as he followed her inside, and watched her close and lock the door. She walked past him, disrobing along the way. A wet jacket here. Saturated sweater there. The sopping garments hit the wooden floor in thuds, until all that was left were a pair of sheer ankle-high stockings on her feet. Pausing by her kitchen, she leaned against the counter, rolled them off, and placed them neatly on a barstool before making her way to the refrigerator.
Bottle of white wine in hand, two wine glasses, they settled together, nude, under a large blanket in front of the television, a candle burning and the electric fireplace roaring in her living room. He glanced at his wet clothing set in a pile off to the side, then sipped the wine, as she gulped hers. She leaned against his shoulder, remote control in her hand, and channel surfed. She was still so damn quiet. That wasn’t like her at all…
She was tormented. Angry beyond words. All he wanted to do was love her. He hoped it was enough. His version of love included things she may have fantasized about, but was too good-hearted to do. He heard her dark wishes. She wanted that man dead. He certainly deserved it.
Ms. Florence, I know you’re watching me right now, and you know what I’m thinking. I reckon you don’t approve. You know what I’m up to. You always knew what I, Legend, and Caspian were up to, and for a lady who had no children of her own, you sure had a strong motherly intuition. I dreamt about you last night again, so I knew something was going to happen today. You warned me, in your own way. You ain’t say nothing, but I could feel it. I want to tell you, as I sit here holding my sweetheart who in many ways reminds me of you, that I’m no killer.
Is that a lie? I try to be as truthful with you as possible. At least, that’s what I used to tell myself. I’ve seen so much death in my life, Ms. Florence, from the time I was a little boy. Death has always danced around me like rattling skeletons and brain-hungry zombies, huntin’ me in the afterlife.
My dog gettin’ hit by a car right in front of me when I was just a lil’ boy set it off. A few years later, my daddy shot ’nd killed his friend right in front of me, too. Found out that friend pulled a gun out on him and tried to steal over $5000 he’d saved up to get a new trailer. Mama didn’t kill nobody, but she shot some man she was dating in the face. He thought he could jump on her, put his hands on her, but Mama wasn’t havin’ it. I liked that man up until that point… funny how I can’t even remember his name right now. Strange how all of this viciousness became normal to me, so early on. Made me hurt somethin’ terrible. I didn’t want to hear that pain no more.
Grandpa and Grandma died. Other folks in the family passed away—cousins, uncles, friends of the family… and then you died on me, too. I think that was the final straw, the one that broke the camel’s back, Ms. Florence. How’d you get bone cancer? I wanted to fight the whole world. We ain’t know you were sick. How could you keep a secret like that from us? I was messed up over you. I almost didn’t make it to your funeral, but Mama dragged me out the house with my wrinkled suit and tie on. I slept in it all night. My heart broke each time I thought about you in that casket. Cold. Alone.
I made you a promise. You made me promise to take care of my problem, but I never did. I just turned off the sound is all. I made sure I didn’t hear no evil… You found out about my troubles at home, and you talked to me about it. Nobody had ever asked me how I felt, not even my own mama, and I know she loves me something fierce. If I was sad or upset about thangs at home, it was just too damn bad. We were just expected to buck up, and shut up. You gave me a voice, and eyes to see. But most of all, you gave me an ear to listen, so I could hear things I hadn’t heard before. Excruciating, cutting, terrible things I had blocked out.