“I’m fine, sweets. Just got a lot on my mind,” she replied looking up at her niece.
Her younger brother’s grandchild, Claire was her favorite amongst her sibling’s children and grandchildren. Some thought it was because Claire bore an uncanny resemblance to her, but Augusta knew that it was something deeper. The young woman was not only the child of her heart but an example of the promise she’d made to herself when she got on that train in Arkansas, leaving the only world she’d ever known, to be the best and brightest.
Every time she looked at her young niece, Augusta saw the result of a life committed to breaking down barriers of racism and sexism. She wasn’t delusional in thinking they’d been eradicated but the day she stood at Claire’s graduation from medical school and each day she visited her at the small clinic she was the director of, Augusta felt that her life had been well spent. The feeling blossomed even more when she watched Claire live her life with complete freedom, not hampered by fears and uncertainties.
“What’s got you down, Aunt Gus?” Claire asked with concern, reaching over Augusta’s small kitchen table to squeeze her hand.
“Not down child, just thinking about my life and some of the choices I’ve made, that’s all,” she replied smiling back.
“Any regrets?” Claire asked her inquisitively.
The image of Dáire’s face as he stood holding her in the garden earlier in the day rushed to the forefront of Augusta’s mind. She couldn’t help grimacing at the thought that she had regrets when it came to the two of them.
“From the look on your face I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” Claire chuckled softly.
Augusta couldn’t help shaking her head. She knew that age made one reflective but she’d always taken everything in her life in stride. She’d made choices and stood by them, right or wrong. She’d always felt she’d lived her life to the fullest considering what gender and race she’d been born to. No regrets, but just as she’d finished her internal monologue, a montage of moments spent with Dáire seemed to play through her mind.
“Was it a man?” Claire asked sheepishly.
There was a moment of silence while Augusta tried to think of the best way to answer the question. Her hesitancy seemed to embarrass the younger woman and she rushed to make up for what she must have deemed a faux pas.
“I’m so sorry Aunt Gus, that isn’t any of my business.”
“Oh honey, don’t feel bad. I guess you could say it has something to do with a man in a way,” she reassured her niece as she took a sip of water.
“Was it…was it that white man Granddaddy told you to be careful of?” Claire asked curiously.
The question shocked Augusta because she didn’t know how Claire knew about the argument she’d had with her brother before the other woman was even born.
“Daddy may have mentioned something when he was saying I was just like you,” Claire said shyly.
“When was that?” Augusta asked with her own curiosity.
“When I was five and I told my dad I was going to marry Bobby Madden,” Claire replied with a chuckle.
Augusta began to laugh until her sides hurt when the image of the chubby little tow-headed boy Claire had followed around during kindergarten popped into her head. Claire’s father always had an odd way of parenting and she could see him using an argument he’d heard during his youth as a life lesson for his daughter. The Johnson men, aside from her own father, were often too over protective of the women in their family. She could still remember the day her brother saw her getting out of Dáire’s car, which resulted in him having a complete meltdown.
“What were you doing in that car with that white boy?” Rodney yelled coming down the stairs of the apartment complex she lived in at the time.
After he’d moved his family from Georgia, where they’d been living with his wife’s family, to Los Angeles he’d kept a watchdog eye on everything Augusta did. At the time she’d been more than annoyed, sheltered in her little bubble of liberalism, she couldn’t understand why her brother couldn’t get with the program.
“I was getting a ride home, not that it’s any business of yours,” she’d said haughtily, trying to move past him to go up the stairs.
“Gus, I know you think things are changing but they ain’t changed that much. That white boy ain’t nothing but trouble, all of them ain’t nothing but trouble, and just because you’ve been living out here doesn’t change the fact that you’re still colored” he’d fumed grabbing her arm.
At the time Augusta had been incensed over her younger brother trying to interfere in her life. She’d wanted to shout back at him that Dáire was no boy. Hell, she didn’t even think he classified as a man. She’d wanted to tell him that they were living in a new day and age and she wasn’t “colored” anymore. She’d wanted to scream at him about equality and all the things she and her friends were fighting for but the look of fear in her brother’s eyes stopped her. He was frightened for her, of what could happen to her, and if she was going to be honest with herself, in that moment as she looked at her brother she couldn’t really tell him if his fear was unfounded.
The memory of that altercation and the subtle changes she’d made when she met with Dáire afterwards stopped her laughter. Sensing the change in her mood, Claire reached over and squeezed her hand again.
“It was a different time, Aunt Gus. You broke a lot of barriers down but I guess there were still things that even you couldn’t push past,” the younger woman whispered.
Looking into warm brown eyes so like her own, Augusta gave her niece a small, sad smile. She knew the young woman was right in some ways but she couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if she’d taken a step into the unknown, if she’d put fear and doubt away for just one night. What would her life have been like?
“You have an interesting look on your face,” Claire said.
“That’s because I’m having some interesting thoughts, sweets,” she replied with a chuckle.
Chapter Four
Pulling up to Augusta’s house, Dáire turned his car off and sat looking at the small, Spanish style house. She’d recently had it repainted and the terra cotta color accented perfectly the roses and other foliage she had throughout her garden. He remembered the day she’d actually bought the house. She’d been saving for years and when she got promoted to principal of a local high school she’d finally felt she had the funds to get her dream home. Dáire could remember her excitement as she described the place to him. What year was it, he thought to himself? It was when that actor was President he remembered, but he couldn’t recall the human’s name, oh well he thought, it didn’t matter.
“It’s so perfect, Dáire. Since its mid-city I’m not going to have trouble getting to anything,” she chattered away.
He’d been in Rome at the time, dealing with one of his human businesses and was actually disappointed he wouldn’t get a chance to be there on the day she moved in. Looking up at the house, he took in a deep breath and used the memory of that happier time they’d had with each other to fortify his feelings. After he’d left her earlier in the day he’d driven aimlessly, feeling the full weight of his hundreds of years of existence. Heading back to his Malibu house, he’d contemplated crossing the veil and spending time on his estate in Faerie but he knew he couldn’t do it. Now that Augusta was so close to the end he wouldn’t chance crossing over and returning to find her dead. The pain that stayed lodged in his chest seemed to flare at the thought of missing even the few moments he had left with her. That’s why when she called him well after midnight asking him to come over he jumped at the chance.
Stepping out of his sports car, he shut the door and headed up her walkway. Stopping just before he walked up her porch to the front door, Dáire smelled the roses that lined her house. It seemed that their fragrance was that much more potent at this particular late hour of the night. Or it could be that his senses were just that much stronger. Night was the time of his people and though he funct
ioned perfectly well in the daytime, it was during these early hours before dawn that he felt the most connected to his magic.
With one last deep breath he took in the fragrant perfection of Augusta’s roses and headed up the steps to the front door. He couldn’t deny that even though he felt a bit weary he was still curious as to why she’d called him at such a late hour. When they’d parted earlier in the day it’d been pretty strained and when she’d refused his offer of dinner, stating her niece would be coming over, he’d left. Gently knocking on the door, he hoped that they would be able to recapture some of the happiness they’d shared.
When Augusta opened the door it took him a moment to register what he was seeing. Her hair was a cloud of gray curls, framing a face touched with the barest strokes of make-up, enough to accentuate her features in a striking way. She had on a wrap dress he hadn’t seen in years but that still clung to a body though older no less beautiful in form. Looking down he saw that she had on the brown, leather sandals he’d bought her years ago in Peru and her toes were painted a bright pink color.
“Hello,” she whispered shyly.
“Hello,” he answered back once he felt he had the ability to use his voice.
The small smile that she gave him seemed to ignite something inside of him. He realized that she’d gotten dressed up for him and it made him happier than he’d felt in years.
“Come here,” he said huskily, reaching to pull her toward him.
“Wait…stop. I want to talk to you first,” she said stepping back and holding her hand up as if to ward him off.
Crossing the threshold, he felt the tiny prickles of the ward he’d constructed for her. She’d been initially annoyed at the thought of him “magicing” her house, but when he told her it was better than any alarm system she backed down. Closing the door behind him, he followed her to the living room and watched as she twisted her hands nervously. His curiosity and desire for her seemed to increase as he watched her struggle to find her words.
“Shall we sit?” he asked indicating the couch she was standing next to.
Augusta had carried the theme of Spanish style throughout the house, from the tiled floors to the dark wood, mission style furniture that she had in the living room. She’d gone through a painting phase after she retired and some of her artwork, along with other local artist’s work, was placed on the walls in the room. He’d always felt a sense of contentment in her home with its soft earth tones and the pride of ownership she’d fed into the very foundation of the place.
“Yes, let’s sit down,” she agreed sitting in the corner of the couch on the very edge.
Smirking, he sat down next to her, enough in her space to keep her aware of his presence but not enough to make her bolt. He could tell something big was about to happen between them and he didn’t want to prevent it in any way.
“I called you over here tonight because I’ve been thinking. More specifically about us and how…well,” looking down at her hands she seemed to struggle for what she wanted to say. “When you get older you start thinking about your life and the choices you’ve made and the ones you didn’t, and I’m starting to think I didn’t make all the choices I could have,” she finished looking back up at him.
Dáire smiled back at her with what many a woman had called his sexiest smile. The exacerbated look she gave him before she rolled her eyes made him chuckle. Reaching to unclasp her hands, that were twining around each other, he raised one to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly.
“I’m hoping this choice you’re talking about is the same one I’ve been thinking of since you picked me up in that Mustang of yours,” he smiled wickedly and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Her husky laugh that had made him hard countless times over the years still had the same effect as he watched her. Tugging her closer he pulled her into his arms. When she stiffened he growled in frustration.
“I thought this was what you wanted? Why you did all of this?” He indicated her new make over.
“I do, but not like this,” she replied pulling away from him to stand.
“Unless you know something I don’t know, you being in my arms is the best way to start…” he smirked as he let his words trail off.
“I know that. I have had lovers before,” she stated indignantly.
“I would appreciate it greatly if you refrained from mentioning your other lovers prior to you becoming mine,” he surged to his feet angrily.
“Oh don’t act all innocent and pretend you haven’t had lovers too,” she threw back at him, planting her hands on the tops of her hips in a defensive stance.
“They were never what we could be together,” he tried to tap down his anger as he stood over her.
“I find it amazing that whether Sidhe or human, the males of the species seem to always say the same bullshit,” she said in a dismissive manner.
“If your aim was to just entice me and then insult me I find this meeting tiresome and will take my leave,” he told her coolly.
“Entice? Hardly,” she snorted.
“What do you call your current attire and your hair and make-up?” he asked indignantly.
“Oh stop, I’ve known you too long and I’m too old for false flattery.”
Grabbing her hand, he placed it on his hard on that hadn’t dissipated even with his ire. Her gasp and look of shock made him smile wickedly at her.
“This is not flattery,” he whispered leaning down toward her mouth.
“Wait…no not like this,” she shouted pulling away from him.
“Then what other way is there to be?” he asked feeling his frustration mounting.
“I want to make a wish and I would like for you to grant it, please,” she said so softly he almost didn’t catch it.
Chapter Five
The hard stare that Dáire was giving Augusta almost made it difficult for her to ask for her wish. After Claire had left she’d thought more and more about the question of whether she had any regrets and she finally came to the realization that she did. She’d done so much during her lifetime but the one thing that she’d always wanted she’d stopped herself from ever trying to attain. Now that she was older, hell now that she was old, she didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity of knowing what it would feel like having her skin pressed against his, to know what it felt like to have him inside of her.
Contrary to what a lot of young people thought, just because she was eighty didn’t mean everything down there shut off. It just took a little bit longer to jump-start and at her age it became even harder to find someone to start it up. She wanted it now though, with a passion she’d never known before but she didn’t want to do it in a body that though fit and agile for her age, tired faster. If she was going to have this one chance she wanted to make the most of it.
“What is your wish?” he asked with a steely calm that made her nervous.
He’d never looked so “other” to her than now. His features seemed to become harder and his body looked as if it had been carved out of stone. He still had on the same clothes from earlier and the casual attire seemed to contrast sharply with the way he was holding his body. Chewing her lip, she wondered if she’d offended him but she’d come too far now to stop.
“I want to be young again tonight, just this once when we…”
The glare Dáire gave her made Augusta falter on her words. She felt like a young girl asking the most popular boy at school to a dance. She’d never felt nervous around Dáire before and tried to think of what she could say to get him to smirk at her in his sly way.
“You think me so shallow,” he growled.
“What…no, you don’t understand,” she tried to explain but he held up his hand to silence her.
“You don’t know after all these years do you? You don’t know that I love you and I am not held to foolish whims like your human men. I will have you now as you are.”
Augusta felt as if the air around her was crackling with energy. Dáire seemed to transform before
her eyes and as she saw the new him she wondered how she could ever forget that he wasn’t human. With his human glamour gone, he was almost painfully beautiful. His hair was once again long like the first day she saw him but it seemed to glow blue black as it fell in thick waves across his shoulders. His green eyes, that were always vibrant, seemed to glow like the brightest jewels and his face, though still aristocratic in form, was now structured in a way that seemed so perfect that it was surreal. With all of that there was a sort of darkness, a sense of wildness about him that she’d never noticed. It frightened her and yet called to her.
Holding up her hands in a placating manner she frantically tried to gather her thoughts. Dáire had a temper that was kindling to her own, but tonight was not about arguing. Tonight was her night to live, to live with him in a way she’d never had in the past. Gathering the courage of eighty years of life, she looked him in the eye and poured her heart out.
“You don’t understand. This isn’t about you being shallow or even my vanity it’s about the life that I’ve had. I’ve had eighty great years of being the best daughter, sister, auntie, teacher and friend. I’ve had a life of pushing past what people thought was appropriate for me as a black woman. I can look back and think that my life has been all that I could have asked of it and be content with that. But there is one thing I never let myself have and it could have been because of fear of you, or society, or just myself but I didn’t take that chance. And yet it doesn’t make the life I’ve lived any less and I wouldn’t want to change it and go back and try to fit you in somehow more than you are now. So I’m asking you, tonight, to give me another chance, another life that would rewind me back to the way I was when you met me without taking away all that I have now. I want to know what it would be like at the beginning to be with you, not the end,” she finished looking up at this new, beautifully frightening version of Dáire and hoped that he understood what she meant.
Life in Two Parts Page 2
