A Love So Deep (4 page)

Amanda turned to look at Graham, her hair swinging as she did. She still wore her hair in a flip, just like she did the day Graham met her, with her bangs pulled back with a yellow headband. “You’re such a baby, Graham, but I love you.” And she planted the sweetest kiss on his lips.

Graham did not want to remove his lips from hers. He could have stayed there all night holding her close and tight. “Better not let the chicken burn,” he said finally, still caressing those fine hips of hers. Amanda playfully smacked his hands again, so she could remove the chicken from the bubbling grease.

Amanda arranged the chicken neatly on a platter just as she had seen her mother do. She pulled a dish of baked macaroni and cheese from the oven. There were fresh green beans simmering in a pot along with some thinly sliced onions, new potatoes, and bacon pieces. Homemade cornbread rounded out the feast. She set the dishes of food on the stove since the small wooden table would not hold it all. Graham was in awe. He had not experienced love in this form since he left Aunt Rubye’s house. Now he had a wife who made him feel special and loved and looked good enough to eat, as did the food she set before him.

They ate from the china while sipping wine from the long-stemmed goblets Nadine had given them. This was their first whole day and second night together as newlyweds. They looked across the table at each other in silence, passing messages between them that only they understood. The mood was peaceful, and nothing could take away from how they felt at this moment.

“I’d like to dance, Graham. Turn on the phonograph and play some Mahalia Jackson.”

“She’s a gospel singer, ‘Manda. We can’t dance to that.”

“She’s my favorite singer. I hear she might even sing at Carnegie Hall one day. Anyway, I don’t care what she’s singing as long as we can dance to it.”

“Okay, ‘Manda. Anything for you.”

“You mean that, Graham?” Amanda stepped back and put her hands on her hips and tossed her head up and down, looking at the full length of her man.

“Yes, Amanda, anything for you within reason. You know I will lay down my life for you, even go the last mile for you as long as this love of ours stands the test of time.”

“I’ll always love you, Graham Peters…from your young, boyish and handsome face with the cutest little eyelashes curled tight at the ends to the soles of your size-nine feet. Come here.”

And with that, she took Graham by both hands bringing him close to her, twirling him around and then letting him take the lead as Mahalia sang,
“I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows. Out there in the dark somewhere, a candle glows. Every time I hear a newborn baby cry or touch a leaf or see the sky, I believe, I believe.”

G
raham
was unaware of how many days and nights had passed. The last that he could recall was slow dancing with Amanda to one of Mahalia Jackson’s songs.

What time is it?
Graham wondered, stumbling out of bed scratching his head. The clock on the nightstand with its illuminated hands read ten o’clock. Next to the clock stood an opened, half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker Red. “How did this get here? I don’t drink,” Graham said aloud, snatching the bottle from its resting place and bringing the neck of the bottle to his mouth. “Ahh, that was good.” And Graham fell back on the king-size bed and went to sleep.

The continuous banging at the front door roused Graham from his slumber. He slowly, mechanically, walked in the direction of the noise, knocking a picture off the wall but managing to remain on two feet.

“Graham, are you in there?” the voice on the outside shouted. “If you are, open up this door.”

“Go away,” came the feeble reply.

“Graham, if you don’t open up this door, I’m going to get the fire department and the police and have them knock this door down. Now, I mean it. Open up this door!”

Graham stood staring at the door. He wasn’t sure what he should do. He was in no mood to have a conversation with anybody, and he certainly didn’t feel like having one with Charlie.

“All right, Graham. I’m going to count to ten, and if this door is not open when I get to nine and a half, I’m going to call the cops. One…two…three…four…five…six…” Graham moved closer to see if Charlie was still counting. “Seven…eight…”

Graham cracked the door open, and before he could shut it, Charlie forced the door open, almost toppling Graham in the process. Graham regained his footing and stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face like one of the Three Stooges after he had been hit over the head with a baseball bat. Then Graham followed Charlie into the room.

It was dark when Charlie first entered the house, but he didn’t need his sight to determine that things weren’t quite right. The stale, rank odor that permeated the house sought refuge in his nostrils.

Charlie was appalled at the sight before him once his eyes had adjusted to the light. He dropped
The Oakland Tribune
on one of the mahogany end tables that sat on either side of the overstuffed beige loveseat. What had happened to his dear friend, his best friend, Graham Peters? The four-day stubble that covered Graham’s chin and crawled up the side of his face to his temples was ghostly white, adding at least ten years to his age. His usually well-manicured mane was mowed down by several nights of fitful sleep, along with the absence of a comb or brush. Graham’s white shirt and khaki pants were dirty and disheveled, and the smell that emitted from Graham’s unwashed body told the story only too loudly.

When Charlie walked into the kitchen to help Graham sit down, he was confronted with yet another appalling sight. Dirty dishes, some of which still contained food, were piled two feet high in the sink, contributing to the pungent smell that had invaded the house. Charlie opened the refrigerator, hoping to find something to prepare for Graham to eat. There were several plates of uneaten food. There was also what appeared to be remnants of a slab of bacon. But what made Charlie recoil in disgust was the sight of a broken egg whose yolk clung to the insides of the refrigerator like icicles with its cracked shell resting on the shelf below. Charlie closed the refrigerator, opting to go out and buy something instead.

Charlie went around the house opening several windows. The fresh air found the stench a worthy opponent. Something would have to give soon, because Charlie was beginning to gag from the funk, and tears were forming in his eyes because of the heartbreak he found here.

Charlie looked at his friend curled up in a ball, refusing to speak because Amanda had left him by himself. Charlie wanted to curse Amanda, blaming her for Graham’s slow demise. When she left, she took Charlie’s best friend’s heart and stomped on it like ripe grapes ready to be turned into wine. But if Amanda had a choice, she wouldn’t have left Graham, and Charlie knew that. In fact, Charlie missed her as much as Graham did.

Charlie couldn’t take anymore and stood before Graham, pleading with him to take his life back. Graham looked up at him, and then lowered his eyes without speaking.

“Graham, I’m not going to tolerate much more of this outta you,” Charlie hissed. “Get up, get up now and let’s take a nice, long, hot bath. It’ll make you feel better.”

Graham scowled at Charlie, hoping that would be enough for Charlie to leave him alone. But Charlie had been with Graham almost his entire life, and he knew what made Graham tick. Graham may have been inaccessible to any type of reason at that moment, but Charlie was not going to sit idly by and let Graham wither away.

“Look, Graham, I know you’re hurting, but you’ve got to grab hold of yourself, man. You have so much more of life to live. It’s me and you again even if we are a little rusty behind the ears.” Charlie laughed at his own memory of them in their young days—woofing the women. Charlie thought he saw a hint of recognition in Graham’s eyes.

Charlie walked across the room to sit next to Graham. “Whew, buddy. I’m gonna run you some bath water. We can reminisce later.”

Charlie rose from his seat and turned back to look at the half shell Graham had become. “Why don’t we go to church tomorrow? It’ll do you some good…do me some good, too. You know, I haven’t seen the inside of a church since Elizabeth got married.” Graham sat there in his pitiful state, and Charlie proceeded down the hall to the bathroom.

Graham’s eyes scanned the room like a surveillance camera, not sure what he would find. Everything his eyes rested upon reminded him of Amanda. Graham got up from the chair and went and lay down on the couch in the living room. He closed his eyes and was quickly drawn to the day he and Amanda had moved there.

It was a brisk autumn day. The large brown, yellow, and red maple leaves were falling everywhere, scurrying about, not sure whether to stay or float away into the yard of the new next-door neighbor. Amanda was so excited because they were finally going to move into their own home in a small quiet little neighborhood that was far enough away from Mommy and Daddy but close enough that if they needed to get to her parents, they could.

Amanda bought gingham curtains for the kitchen and bathroom windows, and her good friend, Loretha, volunteered and made comforters with matching curtains for the rooms of Amanda’s daughters, Deborah and Elizabeth. Amanda and Graham purchased their first set of furniture from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. It would be delivered later that day. Deborah and Elizabeth were with their grandmother, Martha, which left Graham and Amanda to themselves.

“You want to christen the living room?” Graham teased, giving Amanda a sly, seductive wink.

“Graham, you’re so naughty. We can’t. We don’t know what time the Sears truck will bring our furniture. And…”

“So, it’s not a bad idea, hmmm?”

“Graham, behave. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Help me put up these curtains.”

“I’ll help you if you give me a great, big kiss first.”

“I know you, Graham Peters. You are up to no good. With our luck, we’d be well into making our third baby. What if one of our new neighbors stops by to introduce themselves?”

“We’re married, ain’t we?” Graham tried to be comical. “Well,
this
married couple makes love in the afternoon. And anyway, they can’t disturb us if we don’t let them.”

“Graham, you’re so crazy.”

“But you like it. Come here, baby. Time out for all this talking. If we start now, we’ll be ready and energized by the time the Sears truck rolls up.”

Amanda sashayed slowly toward Graham letting those strong, nut-brown legs do their thing as Graham became hypnotized and mesmerized by her rhythm. They lay on the blue shag carpet letting their passion take over. Graham planted kisses on her mouth, down her neck, then on her breasts, lingering to savor the sweetness her nipples produced. Amanda took Graham’s face in her hands, planting kisses on the top of his head as he moved slowly downward. Their bodies moved to a rhythm that was all their own.

Graham inched further down into the couch, thoroughly enjoying this part of his dream when a light tap on his shoulder dared to disturb him.

“Water ready,” Charlie said in a soothing voice.

“Leave me be, Charlie. This ain’t none of your business.”

“Oh, we do talk. You don’t say. Well,” Charlie said, starting off slow and ending on a high note. “Get your stinkin’ ass in that water now! If you don’t, I’ll have to treat you like a little kid and bathe you myself.”

Charlie had half a mind to walk out the door, but the fishing trip flashed before him. And he thought better of it.

Charlie busied himself, trying to restore Graham’s house to some semblance of order. He watched Graham from the corner of his eye. He briefly looked away and saw the large pile of dishes again.

“What you been eating, Graham?” Charlie asked, not expecting an answer. “Maybe you can make it your business to get up off of that couch and fix me something—well after you take your bath, that is.”

Charlie ran hot water in the kitchen sink until it was nice and sudsy. He scraped the remains from the dishes and placed them in the hot water to soak. Newspapers littered the room and methodically Charlie went about picking and straightening up. It felt good helping out his friend in this time of crisis.
Graham wasn’t so depressed that he wasn’t eating and reading the
paper
, Charlie thought. He’d give Graham some time, in fact, all the time he needed.

Charlie plugged along until a shadow in the doorway forced him to stand still.

“What would you like to eat?” whispered the voice. “Well, think about it,” Graham said when it was apparent that the cat had Charlie’s tongue. “Think about it; I’ve got to take my bath before my water gets cold.”

“It’s good to have you back, Graham.”

“It’s good to be back, Charlie. You don’t give a man a choice, but it sure does feel good.”

Charlie heard Graham shuffle down the hall. “Grits, eggs, bacon, toast…and coffee—yeah, a strong pot of black coffee,” Graham yelled. Graham smiled to himself and shut the bathroom door behind him.