Ooh Child

Things don't always get easier.

*

Author's Note

I've gotten myself back into the slice of life story mode again. No major backstory, no definite closure, just a glimpse into the lives of a couple characters as they move along toward their destinies. Though this one takes place over a longer time span than my other slice of life stories. And there's a road trip along the way too.

Enjoy,
Wax Philosophic

*

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All characters are over the age of eighteen, and you should be too if you're reading this.

*

Ooh Child

I was looking into the downcast eyes of the only person besides myself who still happened to be in the five and dime at this late hour. Yeah, the sign outside really did say five and dime, even though there wasn't much in here that cost less than a dollar. The sign also said U-Haul rental and Greyhound tickets. I assumed Miss Skinny White Bread With the Sad Eyes was here for the latter.

"Miss?" she squeaked.

"Not now, sugar. This is my jam." I reached around to turn up the volume on the old transistor radio behind me.

"Miss?"

"Honey, you do not interrupt the Five Stairsteps singing Ooh Child, got it? You can talk to me when they're done." I turned around and cranked the volume a little more. Miss Sad Eyes just stood there looking at the counter, not saying a word.

I sat down on the stool behind the cash register and began grooving as I sang along. Apparently Miss Sad Eyes didn't know good music when she heard it, because she didn't even try to join in. In fact, she didn't move or say a word until the song wound down.

"Now what is it, honey?" I asked.

"Miss. When's the bus to Chicago coming in?"

"Ooh child, I think you missed it." I said and snickered at my own pun.

For a minute I thought Miss Sad Eyes was going to lose it. Her breath hitched once or twice in her skinny little chest and her big blue eyes started to waver. But she kept it together and just plopped her narrow ass down on the tattered plastic-covered seats behind her.

"Is there another one?" she asked.

"Not 'til tomorrow, sugar."

I watched her shrug off her ratty old army green pack and hug it in her arms. She let out a long sigh and leaned over to rest her cheek on it.

"Huh-uh, you can't sleep here," I said. "This ain't no twenty-four hour bus depot, honey. It's a five and dime that just happens to sell Greyhound tickets. And I'm closing it up in half an hour."

I watched her body jerk as she choked back a sob, but there were no tears in her eyes.

"Hey," I said. "You hungry?"

She nodded.

"Grab yourself a candy bar or something. My treat." I watched her reach out toward the countertop display and wrap her fingers lovingly around a Snickers bar before tearing into the wrapper and taking it down to half in just one bite.

"Aw, shoot," I said, "grab a couple more for the road."

She didn't say a thing as she used both hands to snag two more. She quickly shoved them into the side pocket of that ratty old army green pack.

"Don't eat 'em all at once. You'll make yourself sick." I pulled a couple bills out of my pocket and rang the sale through the register.

*

I pointed my rusty old Dodge truck down the sodium vapor-lit Main Street, and cranked up the oldies station. Not that I relished the idea of listening to any more songs by a bunch of geriatric rockers, but like in the store, it was really the only thing this old radio could pull in. Besides, sometimes they surprised me and threw in something good. Just not tonight.

I twisted the knob and the display went dark. I started singing Ooh Child again at the top of my lungs, because why not?

I was idling at the four-way stop down by the park and belting out the chorus when I spied that ratty old army green pack again. It was sitting on a bench with Miss Sad Eyes sprawled out and resting her cheek on it. I pulled over and slipped the shifter into park.

"Listen sugar," I announced out the window. "You don't want to sleep here. There's some creepy motherfuckers that come crawling out of the bars at night, and you don't want any part of that."

She sat upright and stared at me through those big baby blues while the old truck gurgled and sputtered. The pack was on her knees now and she was resting her chin on it.

"Ain't you got nowhere to go?" I hollered. "Go home."

She just shook her head.

Against my better judgment I reached over and twisted the key to kill the ignition. I shoved my door open with a squeak and it fell closed with a bang. I sat down on the bench next to her. "You really ain't got nowhere to go?"

She shook her head.

I thought for a second and then decided to go out on a limb. "You runnin' away?"

She nodded.

"Chicago's a tough town, sugar. You got relatives there or somethin'?"

She shook her head.

Damn it. Damn it, I did not need this shit. I had my own problems, and taking in strays was definitely not on my to-do list today. What if she's an alky? -- Or a druggy?

But I didn't smell anything on her breath, nor did I see any track marks on her arms, and other than being skinny and tired she didn't seem to have any obvious signs of chemical dependency.

"You got a plan for when you get there?"

She shrugged.

"Must be really bad at home, huh?"

She nodded.

I stood up and walked back to my truck. I gave the passenger side door a yank and it grudgingly opened with a squeak and a groan. "Come on," I said, "before I wise up and change my mind."

She jumped up and trotted over. I stood outside and helped her get the stubborn old door closed. The way her eyes lit up I think maybe she thought I was picking her up for a date or something.

I piled into the driver's side and pulled the door shut with a groan and a thud. I looked over at Miss Skinny White Bread sitting there on the passenger seat. I couldn't really call her Miss Sad Eyes anymore, because -- well -- she had actually perked up a little.

"Put your seat belt on, honey." I watched her set the ratty old army green pack on the floor and reach up over her shoulder to grab the buckle. "You ain't got no drugs in that bag, I hope. Otherwise I'm dropping your ass off at the next corner."

She shook her head.

I reached over to twist the knob on the radio. She wasn't much of a conversationalist and I needed something to calm my nerves. I still felt a little like I was bringing home a stray.

Shit definitely gets weirder on the oldies station as the night wears on. The tinny little truck speakers erupted with sounds of guitars droning on and Alice Cooper bitching about being eighteen. I looked over at my lost puppy of a passenger with that thought on my mind.

"You ain't jailbait are you?" I asked. "I don't need no cops getting the wrong idea about us."

She shook her head.

"OK, good," I said. "Just another mile or so."

She sighed and settled back into her seat. By the time Alice Cooper had his crisis wrapped it up and AC/DC came on, I think she was asleep. How anybody can sleep while Bon Scott is playing the bagpipes, I have no idea.

*

"You want somethin' to eat?" I asked as I propped her up on my couch, "I can fry you up some eggs or something. Really nothing else in the fridge, except ketchup packets. I usually eat take-out."

"Eggs, please."

"Oh my god! She speaks!" I think I may have scared her with my boisterous comment, but she got over it and I watched a grin slowly crawling over her face.

"I can make it," she said. "You don't have to wait on me."

"Go ahead and relax, sugar. I'm always a little wired up after work, and no offense but you look like you're about ready to drop."

"Thanks." She smirked and looked at her feet. "For the eggs I mean. Not for the comment about me being ready to drop."

A few minutes later I walked over with two mismatched plates in my hands and set them on the coffee table. "Think of it as a pepper and egg sandwich," I announced. "Without the peppers. And with regular old white toast instead of good Italian bread. And no olive oil. And no garlic."

She smiled.

"You want some ketchup? That I've got."

She shook her head. "I'm Lena," she said.

"Lena." I smiled. "Pretty name. That Polish?"

She nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Lena. My name's Jordan." I stuck my hand out in her direction and she shook it. "You may not have guessed this, so let me just lay it out there for you. I'm not Polish."

Lena laughed for the first time since I met her. It wasn't much, just a little snort and a smile, but it was something. She didn't say much other than thank you after she plowed her way through my egg and toast sandwich creation.

"You want another?"

Lena's power of speech seemed to have left her again and she just shook her head, so I collected up our plates and returned with a couple glasses of water.

"Sorry, it's all I got unless you want instant decaf."

She shook her head. And when I sat down on the couch she leaned over and rested her cheek on my shoulder. "Thanks," she said and brought the glass to her lips.

In my mind I told myself that I ought to be a good host and get a pillow and blanket for my little stray. But it had been long enough since I'd felt the warm touch of another human being -- not just the casual handshake, but a real honest affectionate touch -- and I was a little reticent to get up.

I think Lena may have been in the same boat, either that or she had fallen asleep again. She was awfully quiet.

"Hey," I whispered. "I'm going to get you a pillow and a blanket so you can get some proper rest. There's not much in the kitchen, but whatever you can find is yours if you get hungry again."

"OK," she said and slid over onto her side.

By the time I returned, Lena was out. I pried the empty glass from her fingers and tossed the blanket over her skinny little body. I watched her chest rise and fall a few times before I decided I could probably lift her head and stuff the pillow underneath without waking her.

Lena wrapped her arms around the pillow and snuggled into it, letting out a long sigh as she did. She looked so peaceful. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, Lena" I said and padded off to my bed.

*

"Jordan?"

I rubbed my eyes and looked toward the sound.

"Jordan. Sorry to wake you, but do you have another blanket? I'm freezing."

"It's 'cause you got no meat on your bones." I rubbed my eyes again and fixed my gaze on the glow of the digital clock sitting on the window ledge across the room. 2:42. "Sorry, the front room is drafty. You want to take my comforter? It's all I got."

Lena shook her head.

"Fine," I said and lifted the covers. "But you better not be jailbait."

"Thanks," she said and crawled in beside me. I think I jumped the gun on the whole jailbait discussion, because as soon as her head hit the pillow she was snoring. It was a cute little snore, and I found myself wanting to snuggle up to her and wrap her in my arms.

I settled for laying a hand on her shoulder and kissing the nape of her neck before closing my eyes again. "Sweet dreams, Lena," I whispered.

*

"Eggs and toast OK?" I hollered from my apartment's little galley kitchen when I saw Lena wandering forth from the bedroom. "Cause I was serious when I said that's all I've got."

"Jordan?" Lena had her head in her hands and was pulling her hair through her fingers. "Jordan, oh god, did we?" She looked down over her clothes as if she were searching for missing keys or something. "Did we?"

"No Lena, we did not." I knew what she was going for even though she couldn't seem to find the words. "I'm not that kind of girl. I -- I mean I am, but not on the first date, OK?"

"Oh, thank god," she heaved.

"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel good about herself."

"No, Jordan. It's not that," she said. "It's just that you really don't want to touch me, OK?" Lena hung her head and studied her feet. "I'm pretty sure -- I mean I think -- Jordan, I've got HIV, OK? I'm sorry, I was just so tired last night, and you were so nice, and ..."

"Shhh." I set the spatula down and walked a few steps to take Lena in my arms. "Thank you for telling me, but we didn't do anything last night. Honest."

"Oh god." Lena dropped her head on my shoulder and looked like she was ready to pass out.

"You better have a seat, sugar. I'll have breakfast up in a minute."

By the time I made it over to the couch to hand another egg and toast sandwich off to Lena, she had her face in her hands and was sobbing softly. I set the plates down on the coffee table and situated my butt next to her.

"Hey." I put my arm over her shoulder. "You didn't put me in any danger. Now have some breakfast, OK? You'll feel better about life with some food in your tummy."

"Thank you." She sniffled.

I stood up and returned with two glasses of water and a small package of pocket-sized tissues. "Don't use them all up," I said. "It's my last pack."

Lena chuckled and then let out a long toot into a tissue. "You're so sweet, Jordan."

"Don't mention it, sugar. Besides, we all got our problems." I took a bite of egg sandwich and chewed before continuing. "You got your three letters, and I got a congenital heart defect. So ain't we just a perfect pair. A couple of ticking timebombs just sitting here having breakfast."

"Oh Jordan, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, honey. By all rights I should have died in my teens, but here I am, still kickin'."

I don't think Lena knew what to say. She just took a bite of egg and toast sandwich and chewed.

"You want ketchup?" I asked.

Lena shook her head.

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her over so that her cheek was resting on my shoulder. She sighed and snuggled into me. It felt nice.

*

"There's a motel coming up, you want to splurge?" I asked as we barreled down historic Route Sixty-Six in my old Dodge truck. Let me tell you, this old back highway is not nearly as exciting and romantic as it's made out to be, but it's what we had decided to do and we were sticking with it. Besides, the truck made some scary noises at Interstate speeds.

"We should save our money," Lena said. "Let's camp out."

"This is Kansas, honey. Nothing but wheat fields and tornado shelters. You sure we can't sleep in a motel?"

"OK." Lena snaked her hand across the seat and rubbed it up and down my thigh. "Though I'll have you know it's always been a lifelong dream of mine to camp out in a wheat field. But that's OK, Jordan. Just crush my dream to dust." She faked a sob. "I can handle it."

"Shut up." I grinned. I cranked the wheel around and dropped the old truck into one of the many open parking spots in front of the little motel. "Be back soon, baby. Don't go running off, OK?"

Lena gave me a peck on the lips and I shoved my shoulder into the door to get it to open.

It was always either one or the other of us booking the motel rooms, never both, and particularly out here in the sticks. It only took one person exercising their so-called religious freedom to let us know that an interracial lesbian couple was not necessarily the most welcome sight in some parts of the old US of A.

I came back with a key hanging off an oversized tag marked with the number four clutched in my hand, and showed it to Lena. "It was a tough negotiation, but I managed to get us the honeymoon suite."

"Pssh," Lena said as she reached to grab her pack from behind the seat.

I put my hand on top of hers. "Let me, baby."

Lena shot me a death glare. "Jordan, I am not an invalid. I'll get it."

"Yes ma'am." I pulled my hand back.

"But it was sweet of you to offer." She planted a peck on my lips and proceeded to shove her shoulder into the passenger door. It gave way with a squeak and a groan, and she stepped out. I reached behind my seat to grab my bag and the cooler.

"I call dibs on the shower," I teased. Lena just looked at me and smiled. This had been a running joke between us since we started this little road trip of ours and it would probably last until we got all the way to Puget Sound. Somebody always called dibs on the shower even though everywhere we went, we always ended up showering together.

"What do we have left in the cooler?" Lena asked.

"Hmm." I pried the lid off. "Not much. There's still a few apples and your leftover KFC, though if you ask me that was not the Colonel's best effort on the chicken. Oh, and some Wisconsin cheese curds from our little detour. Still squeaky too. Fucking amazing."

Lena pushed the door shut and playfully shoved me backward until I tumbled onto the double bed. "I never thought I'd say this Jordan, but I might just miss your egg and toast sandwiches."

"Honey, next time we camp I will whip up all the egg and toast you can eat. But I don't think they'll want me lighting the Coleman stove up in the room." I grinned. "So what do you say we go out tonight? Someplace were we can steal some ketchup packets. We're getting low."

Lena fixed me with a lecherous gaze and slowly crawled up onto the bed. I began to think that we may not be getting our resupply of ketchup packets after all. She was kneeling over me now, straddling my thighs as she shed her t-shirt and reached around to unfasten her bra.

"We can go out a little later," I said reaching down to peel out of my own t-shirt. "I'm fine with that."

Lena grinned.

Making love was definitely a little weird with us, but we made it work. At first, Lena was deathly afraid of passing her disease on to me, and insisted that we both keep our underwear on at all times. Though lately she'd loosened up a little bit, and we'd started fingering each other through one of the many condoms from the economy-size box we had purchased back in Saint Louis.

"Or I can probably do without the ketchup." I shivered as Lena slid her tongue up the side of my neck. "And I'm OK with that, 'cause as a vegetable, it's totally overrated."

"Jordan." Lena lifted her head and smiled. "Shut up."

"Yes, m--" I started. Lena's lips were on me so fast that I never got a chance to finish my snappy comeback. And I'm OK with that, because snappy comebacks are totally overrated.

Lena had her hands wrapped up in my hair and I didn't think she was going to be letting me go anytime soon. That was fine by me. If she had the energy, I was more than willing. And boy was Lena energetic. She soon had me forgetting all about those little ketchup packets.

"Mmm, Lena," I moaned as she drew her tongue lower and flicked it back and forth over my nipple a few times.

"I love making them stand up." That was what she had said the first time she laid her mouth on me, when we were still shacked up in my little one-bedroom back in Podunk, Indiana. Well, three states later -- four if you count our little incursion into Wisconsin on a quest for cheese curds -- and she still loved making them stand up.

I have to say I didn't mind her obsession one little bit. "Oh, sugar," I moaned as I arched my back. "Mmm."

I could feel her chuckling at the way I lost myself so quickly under her touch. I just thrust my chest out and let her go to town while I trailed my fingertips lightly up and down her back. I knew it made her shiver a little when I did it, and she said it was a good shiver so I kept pulling that trick out of the bag.

And secretly, though I would never tell her this, I was silently counting the number of ribs I could feel. If she ever found out what I was doing it would probably start another argument, but I was getting concerned. I kept pushing her to eat high-calorie meals and the weight never seemed to stay on.

But I didn't want to start an argument right now. I really just wanted Lena to fuck me. "Oh god, Lena," I moaned. And when I saw her reaching over to the nightstand for a condom, I figured my wish would soon be granted. "Oh baby, you spoil me."