Another Time, Another Place

by Zane

  His posture straightened as he clenched the phone. The seriousness of his stare sent flutters to my stomach. He acknowledged his commanding officer, exchanging formalities I didn’t want to hear. I slowly closed my eyes and exhaled as I touched my abdomen. The sensation of nerves I experienced was supposed to be from the baby growing inside my womb. Deep in my heart, I knew it was too soon to feel the awakenings of the seed Adam surged in me four months ago, on a warm July evening at the beach. The night I gripped his ass tight, wanting every drop of his warm climax. The night the candles around our sandy abyss highlighted the tears in his eyes—when he asked me to have his son. No, there were no signs of life rousing the pit of my stomach, only nerves. For the first time nausea set in, because I feared losing the life that gave me reason to wake each day…Adam. Flesh of my flesh, connected by a rib, in a story once told. Given to me by God’s grace. Fear of him leaving had me scurrying out of bed, straight to the bathroom.

  My chest heaved as I hunched over the commode, releasing tears and contents of an unsettled stomach. Adam’s fingers made soothing circles over the center of my back, as I slowly rose from the plank floor. The morning chill radiated the soles of my feet, and I shuddered under the strong arms of his embrace. I tried to get myself together, but Adam holding me made it difficult. His touch was comforting, and like breathing, it was something I’d taken for granted. I leaned my head further back on his chest and whimpered.

  Adam kissed the nape of my neck, resting his chin on the crown of my head. “Shh…Jasmine, honey. Everything’s gonna be fine.” His voice was a little groggy and hoarse, but sexy nonetheless. The warm air from his breath to my scalp sent tingles to a place below, right where my body wanted. My mind battled the urge to face his direction, hike my cotton nightie up, and mount him. Just the thought of his hands squeezing my bottom, with my legs wrapped around him tight, made me moist. Moans coming from my lips. A husky, Good morning, coming from his, as his dick greeted the leverage of my narrow tunnel. A snug fit every time. This morning’s phone call, now jeopardized the groove with my husband. The intimacy we shared each morning, and the bond of friendship that sustained us long after the tools of love were unlinked. Damn this war.

  I pulled away from him and turned the faucet on. I brought the cold water briskly to my mouth, rinsing away remnants of morning sickness. Adam was in back of me again, gently massaging the small bulge protruding from the middle of my petite frame. I slowly looked up in the mirror to see his beautiful image, focused on me. The lone vertical crinkle in his brow, the one that I thought was so sexy when he’d cum, was now a concerned scowl.

  “You want some lemon tea?” he asked.

  I slowly shook my head, no.

  “Warm milk with nutmeg?”

  My eyelashes were sticky from blinking away more tears. “I want you to stay,” I said, despite the emotional knot burning my throat.

  He turned me towards him, caressing my face with his hands. “The triage unit. They need doctors.”

  I swallowed hard as I looked up at him. His six-foot-five frame towered over my five-foot body. He got a kick out of teasing me, saying I had a complex about being short. Feisty Geechee girl, trying to be Cleopatra, he’d say. Memories of the good times we had came rushing in. I winced for a moment, holding my head. “When?”

  Adam sighed. “I gotta take the first ferry out tomorrow, to make a flight from Savannah to Atlanta, then…”

  “I’m cold,” I interrupted, unlocking his arms from my waist.

  I brushed away his attempt to keep me in his embrace and walked back to bed. A huff of air escaped my lips as I plopped down on the mattress. I wrestled the sheet over me. The cotton cocoon formed was my wall of anger against the world, and now to Adam, who was leaving. His travel details were too much for me to take. Suddenly, I felt weak, uncharacteristic of my usual nature. I was a feisty Geechee girl, who usually didn’t hold her tongue. Bold in nature, I was told. When it came to Adam, though, I was a lamb. He knew my insecurities. Whenever there was fear inside of me, he would get to the heart of the matter.

  I waited for him to come over, as I set my eyes to the sunrise peeking through the curtains of our bedroom window. Dawn was steadily pushing through the night, another dayclean crowning its way over the island.

  Adam slowly came to my bedside, kneeling beside me. He slowly peeled away the bed sheet with one hand, while he pulled down his pajama pants with the other. His engorged member was ready to take action. It was time to forget about life, laboring in our minds. I took him in my hand, adept at stroking his entire shaft to ultimate stiffness, while he unbuttoned my gown.

  “Damn, baby, keep workin’ me like that,” he moaned as he moved on top of me.

  We had foreplay down to a science. He knew what I needed, and I knew how to serve him, unselfishly. For the first time, since that phone call from Vietnam, smiles covered our faces. Fear would not win over our love.

  Adam was the security blanket that covered me. His dark chocolate skin blended with the butter-cream color of mine. He tenderly kissed my forehead. The sincerity of his eyes stayed with me as his hot tongue licked the middle of my cleavage line. He then focused on my breasts, drawing one slowly into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue circling my areola made me call out his name. I brought my legs up, spreading them wide to allow Adam to do as he pleased. I was captive to his touch. Whatever he wanted, I gladly gave him access to get it.

  Adam teased my private place. I loved the feel of his tongue on my sensitive petal of pleasure, which was swelling underneath soft curls. He licked up and down my dark triangle, with intense strokes that made me squirm beneath him. My legs clamped the sides of his head, locking his face on me.

  “Adam, baby, you gonna make me cum too soon; you keep doin’ what you’re doin’,” I moaned.

  “Let it flow, sweetheart,” he said. “You know I love when you make it rain. Make it rain, Jasmine.”

  His tongue entered my hole, probing the spot that would send me off the edge.

  “Ooh,” I cried, my legs shaking from my orgasm.

  “I pray I’ll be home to see my baby come out of this beautiful pussy,” he moaned. “Open up for me, Jasmine. I want every ounce of this sweet stuff covering me. Give me something to dream about while I’m away.”

  My hands held the top of his head firm, as my fingers feathered through the silky black curls of his cropped afro. I wanted him to enter me. I put my hands under his arms, and gestured for him to come up. He gave me a seductive glance as he followed the commands of touch.

  “Give it to me now,” I said, my voice quivering. Adam cradled my thighs as he penetrated me.

  “Jasmine, you’re making me weak,” he moaned in my ear as his thrusts became more intense. “I love you so much.”

  He pumped me steadily to the brink of gratification. Each crash of our pelvises, louder than before. My juices were plentiful from the pregnancy, and the induction of passion.

  “Baby, I’m about to flood you.” Sweat scattered down Adam’s forehead as he looked at me.

  I battled my own rhythmic release. “Adam, not yet. No…!” I cried out to him, clenching my eyes shut. I pulled my legs down from the edge of his shoulders, resting them on the bed.

  “Jasmine, you all right? Look at me.” He changed his pace to a slow grind, mindful of the tears streaming down my face. “Tell me you’re okay, baby.”

  I couldn’t tell him that. “Don’t stop.”

  “Was I going too deep?”

  “No, Adam. I just don’t want it to end.”

  “Me neither, baby,” he said, gripping the fullness of my ass. “Fuck, this feels good,” he moaned, pumping me harder.

  His shallow breaths were warm against my earlobe, heightening my satisfaction. Adam enjoyed the way my muscles contracted around his dick. The same muscles making me feel good now, would inevitably cause me pain five months from now, when I’d push our child into the world. A day, I painfully felt in my heart, Adam would miss.


  He plunged into my softness, calling out my name when he came. His upper body collapsed onto me. I exhaled as I held him close. Why would this war separate us now? I thought. Things were going so well. We were happy together, which was something most couples couldn’t say, honestly.

  My soul was stubborn, but I believed through faith, my uncertainty about Adam’s safety would settle. He’d go to Vietnam, and do great things, as always. He’d come back home and love me, like he never left…and we’d be fine. I prayed that was the right conclusion, because I wasn’t accepting anything else.

  PERFECT TO ME

  When I awakened, Adam was staring at me, just as I remembered before I drifted to sleep. Folks of Sapelo had given Adam a shrimp boil the night before. Our neighbor Winston let us use his store for the festivities. We ate shrimp and roast beef, then danced to Marvin Gaye until midnight. By the time we got home, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was make love to my man, and rest in the shelter of his arms. Now, I had to face the fact that tomorrow was today. The dayclean I usually welcomed was suddenly intruding on me, like a thief stealing precious gems.

  Adam’s fingertips feathered my cheek. “Morning, sweetheart.”

  “Mornin’,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. Adam saw right through my lukewarm smile, and edged closer to me. The trace of mint I smelled from his breath stirred my senses, and I wanted to freshen up for him. I tried to sit up, but he eased me back down. He aligned his body to mine, bearing his weight on his arms, as if he were about to do push ups.

  “Jasmine, I want you to remember this: I’m never beneath you, or above you, always one with you. You have my heart. That will never change.” He moved to the side, cradling my body with his arms. I nuzzled against his chest. “I’m gonna be fine, and you’re gonna be fine. When I come back, I’ll be holding you, while you nurse our baby to sleep. Life will be better than before, I promise.”

  I bit my lip as I looked down at my gold wedding band. “Life is good now.”

  Adam lifted my chin, his jaw slightly clenched. “Sometimes, love clouds the reality of life. We got obligations, Jasmine. Your career, my work here at the mission, and now my call to treat the injured in Vietnam. Going away wasn’t in the forefront of my mind, but definitely not an afterthought. Just reality. Hopefully, my efforts will help prevent casualties. Being a good doctor is about saving lives, no matter what the cost, or where I have to do it.” His expression brightened. “Your job is to stay happy and healthy, making sure this bug-a-boo is fine. All right?”

  I nodded. “You’ll write me?”

  “Every day.”

  “You’ll continue loving me?”

  “You don’t have to ask.”

  ***

  The waves from the Doboy Sound were calm. Adam leaned against a pier post, and I was wrapped in his arms. The ferry approached the dock, dividing the still waters with its hull. The ferry horn sounded from a distance. I looked up at my husband with weary eyes. For a second, I saw us back in time. A slave ship, parting still waters. A husband being taken from his wife, against his will. Civil Rights and Black Power ideology were integral to blacks in the sixties. In the whole scheme of things, though, I felt like a black man still didn’t belong to his family. Adam called the war an obligation. I saw it as neo-slavery.

  The ferry docked just as my tear landed on Adam’s hand. I wouldn’t be joining him on the ride to St. Simons Island. We both felt it was best to savor the moment in Sapelo, where we married. Clinging to him across the waters would only deepen the pain.

  Anxious tourists, and a few school-age children, were bustling around us, preparing for the ride. Adam turned me around. “Remember what I told you,” he said as he caressed my face. “I’m never beneath you, or above you, always one with you.”

  “I love you.”

  He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I love you, my Geechee girl.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “I know there’s nothing you can do, but I still don’t want you to go.”

  “Don’t worry, Jasmine. I’ll be back soon,” he said, his voice confident and strong.

  “I know,” I said softly. Anxiety churned my insides. While the weather had been mild for late November, a breezy current formed off the water. “Hold me.” I shuddered into Adam’s chest.

  “Always, right here.” He took my hand and placed it on his heart. “For life.” We stared into each other’s eyes and danced slowly, immersed into our silent love song. Sunrays from another dayclean descended down upon us, and together we remained… until the ferry operator made the final call for Adam to board.

  STRONG AS DEATH, SWEET AS LOVE

  1968

  My head was on fire as if I’d been bludgeoned. The bedroom seemed to be spinning, sorta like the Turbo Spin ride at the Georgia State Fair that made me sick, when I was ten. I massaged my temple as I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to block the images of Adam drowning in his own blood.

  Oh God, this can’t be real, I prayed. “Wake me up,” I said, slowly opening my eyes. Adam wasn’t dead. No, not my Adam. Adam was a common name…it was someone else’s Adam. Not my Adam. Some bastard made a crank call, I concluded. A hoax, I could accept. April first was a couple of hours away. News of a bomb destroying the medical tent where Adam was located, I refused to accept.

  I’d gone to sleep early last night, due to constant back pain and pinches to my side. I was nine months’ pregnant, and the baby had been kicking a lot. Like he had no room to get comfortable. The phone rang loudly, startling me out of a peaceful slumber.

  “Good evening, this is Lieutenant Kramer. May I speak to Mrs. Jasmine Kelly?”

  “This is she. Now why are you calling me at ten-thirty at night?” I asked, holding my swollen belly. I rose to my feet. “Is my husband, okay?”

  A pause, then the words I never imagined: “I’m sorry.”

  His tone of voice, neutral. No persuasion of emotion, more like routine. Perhaps I was one of many on his casualty advisory list. I didn’t need his sterile sympathy. I needed Adam.

  The remainder of his dialogue was incoherent. I stood there, holding the phone down by my side. The phone cord swayed as I gripped the receiver with my sweaty palm.

  Anger set in.

  “Liar!” I yelled, slamming the phone into the cradle. I wailed so hard, the heavens must have heard me. All God had to do was give me a sign. Prove I was right, and make a liar out of that lieutenant. “Please, Lord, let Adam call!” I cried to the ceiling, as my body slumped to the wooden floor.

  Aunt Frances arrived. I’d managed to call her between bouts of hysteria, and pangs in my belly. She rushed over and fell to her knees, pulling me close to her bosom. “Lawd, Jesus. I’m so sorry, baby,” she cried.

  My eyes were glazed from wetness. I was in shock, and the water gushing out of me let her know I was in labor. “Jasmine, you gettin’ ready to be a mama.” She gently grasped my shoulders, trying to raise me off the floor. “Baby, I know you hurtin’ in all this madness, but your miracle ’bout to come.” Aunt Frances was plump and solid, over 200 pounds easily, but I managed to jerk away from her. She sighed in frustration. “You ain’t makin’ this easy for me, gal.” She grunted as she leaned her body over to retrieve the phone. “I ain’t gonna fight wit ya, ’cause you need to save your energy. Auntie gonna get you some help, and we gonna get through this.”

  I leaned my head against the oak nightstand, clenching my stomach. Bearing the brunt of bad news. Aunt Frances called Dr. Tate and Sarah, the elder midwife/spiritual advisor of Sapelo. The cramps to my stomach were getting worse. I curled into a fetal position, feeling defeated.

  “Baby, you can’t stay like this,” she said, wiping my damp brow with her palm. “I gotta get you to the bed and check you.” I didn’t resist this time. She scooped me up into her arms and put me in the bed. When she rolled up my drenched, cotton nightgown, she gasped. “Lawd, this baby got plans of his own. Jasmine, I see the head. You gon’ have to push! Pull your legs back and push!”


  “God, no!” I screamed in agony. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. The pain raging through my body was nothing compared to what I thought Adam had endured. All I could see was his beautiful body, mangled by missiles. A dog tag to them, but he was everything to me. Our love, destroyed over senseless shit. There was nothing patriotic about a father, a brother, a son… Adam sacrificing their lives to protect political interests in foreign lands.

  “Dammit, push!” she screamed, bracing my legs.

  “I can’t! I can’t!”

  “We gotta get this baby out! I know you can, do it. Do it now, Jasmine!”

  I pushed with all my might, desperate to give birth to the only joy I had left.

  “Owwl…!” I yelled, sweat beading on my nose. I couldn’t hold my trembling legs anymore. It felt like my vagina was being ripped apart. I grimaced from the burning between my thighs, but tried to push again.

  “That’s it. Push!”

  “Adam!”

  “Bear down!”

  I was weak from grief. I tried to bear down, but it was too painful. Just as I mustered the strength to push again, everything went dark.

  ***

  When I blacked out, my baby got stuck in the birth canal. Through prayers mixed with tears, Aunt Frances reached inside of me, and pulled him out…but it was too late. His heart had stopped beating. I often wondered how I survived that horrifying night. I’d lost a lot of blood. Dr. Tate wanted to cut me open, and take out my uterus to stop the bleeding. Aunt Frances and Sarah told him, hell no. Sapelo women believed in the healing power of spirits. Sarah called upon the souls of my husband and son to save me. A miracle, some cabbage compresses, and old-wives roots prevented another life from being washed away.

  KEEP ME CRYIN’

  1972

  Do four-and-a-half years change anything? Not when you live like you have nothing to lose. Ain’t no closure in watching caskets close. I’d had the best in Adam, so finding love again was not an option. I consumed my days with practicing law, and ended my nights masturbating into an erotic lull. Warm bubble baths by candlelight, legs looped over my ceramic claw tub, with my hands squeezing my nipples to hardened satisfaction. My life had come to this…pleasing me, and me only. I couldn’t risk someone, or something else, shattering the last piece to my fragile heart. Callousness was the pill I swallowed every day, to prevent sadness from driving me insane.