Douz

55 8 1
                                    

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update. (Thanks for the votes and comments!) I've been busy with making music, sleeping and eating lmao ok anyways

Bible in hand. His fingers slowly gliding across the creases of the inside, around his mother's handwritten name in bright red ink. The bible rested in the middle of his palm, it was tiny. You'd have to strain your eyes to read a verse.

Helen Forrest '30

Spots of the rain or helpless tears stained the second or third page, beginning at Genesis.
He heard her a few doors down, crying and weeping.

Footsteps.

"Malik" His Father chuckled, coming upstairs now to probably crack a joke that wouldn't even be funny to him. Malik quickly stuffed the mini bible in his left pocket and looked out the window, Sandra with a picnic basket walking towards his home.

"The baseball game is something else, come see! ...What's wrong?" His father asked seeing Malik look off
"Nothing, I have to go" He places his hand on his father's shoulder to get pass and he then immediately goes downstairs
"You're missing the--"
"Not now" Malik shushed Diane as she looked up to his Father in disbelief and worry. Malik stands on his porch, the Summer's humidity made him want to go back inside

"Sandra"

She looked up, her skin looked so beautiful under the sun. "What are you doing here?" He asked as she walked towards him, a little grayhound following behind her
Malik squat in front of the dog "Wanted to know if you'd like to go on a picnic with me...Near the lake" She mumbled
"Sure thing. But who's your friend?" He chuckled "Oh, he's one of your neighborhood's dog. Followed 'cus I have food in this thing" She smiled, her face glowed, the sun didn't cause this. It was a natural glow.

Malik stared in awe at her as he petted the dog. Soft pink collared shirt and jeans, her hair down to her shoulders with a small daisy in her hair. "Well?" She asked "Of course. Let me just--"
His front door opens, there was his Father. Silence. As if the awkwardness strangled all three at once
"Who's this?" He asked Malik, and only. "I should...probably just..." Sandra took a step back off the porch, the dog did too. "Stay" Malik demanded "My girlfriend" Malik didn't look his father in the eyes, he dared not to.
Malik's father lifted his chin up, now looking towards Sandra "How you get here without being pushed around Miss?" He asked. Rare to see a Black woman walking around this all white neighborhood unless she was a nurse, nanny or something. "I'm Sandra May" Sandra quickly greeted herself "I wanted to take your son, here...Malik on a picnic. Just us"

There was more silence. Followed by Diane's voice from the screendoor "They won, sweetheart"
Malik's father eyed Sandra and his son until they stepped off the porch.

Malik and Sandra silently walk to the farthest side of the park downhill, where couples went. They rest near the lake. The water moves softly around her outstretched fingers, caressing cooly, eddying in its wake. Malik pulls her hand out and watch the drips, transparent and not at the same time. They fall as if snatched by gravity to the saline below, each one swiftly haloed by ever-growing rings, distorting the pebbled sea-bed. In the Summer breeze her hand is cold, yet their backs were being warmed by the early summer sun. Here they could stay all day were it not for the rumbling of Malik's stomach and the aroma of flowers and the meal Sandra packed.

"He's rude" Sandra said shaking her head, referring to Malik's father.
"Such a shame he told you such lies about yourself when it was clear like this here sky" Malik looked up, the sky was clear of no clouds. She was right. "Are you always correct?" He looked back at Sandra who begin to unpack the basket "Oh absolutely not. I bump into walls like everyone else" (Meaning she wasn't perfect)
"I doubt it" Malik leaned towards her to kiss her lips slowly.
She felt a bolt of emotions run wild so she pulled away

"You have to meet my momma soon, she's so sweet. I think you'll love her"
Malik made a silly face, hoping it would make her smile a little.

It did, successfully.

"Malik!" She laughed as he leaned in, playfully attacking her neck "Not here" She sighed "She makes the best cook--"
She moaned as Malik presses his lips harder against her neck.

"And I..." Sandra felt as if she could black out any moment.
His lips tracing her perfect jawline, his hands exploring under her shirt
She puts her hands on the sides of his face to hold him where she wants him, fingers wind up in each other's hair but Malik tugs hers tight, and somehow, just by the way he touches her, he makes her mouth open
her eyes close
he makes her breathe faster and faster until she felt dizzy.
In that moment, his kisses made her almost forget her own name.
He felt like she melted in front of him, pretty dark skin like chocolate spilling all over.

A shove knocks him over
next thing he knew she was fixing her shirt and shushing him.
The picnic basket now getting fixed by her as she kept a calm look.
He heard voices near.
"What are you worried about? The voices?" He whispered, scooting closer to her, grabbing her hand-- but she rejected.

"What you two down here doing?" A heavy, annoying Southern accent boomed
"Having a date?...with a nigger?"
2 poorly dressed white adolescents laugh from uphill.
Malik was the only one who turned to see who it was, Sandra looked down.
"Be a shame if your Daddy see you like this!" One of them yelled, running away before Malik could get up.
"Don't bother saying anything. I have to go anyways, gotta help momma with her cleaning" Her voice shook, embarrassment and fear. But she somehow managed to keep that emotion hidden, she learned how to.
"Sandra" Malik quickly stood up as soon as she did
"Should've known this was a bad idea. Ya know? Forgetting you a white man still...and all that" She picked up the basket and tucked her hair behind her ear
"Sandra, I love you. They won't stop me from doin' that" He grabbed the basket too. Sandra tried to pull it away from him
"That's nice. I'll see you some other time" Her voice shaking a bit more
"Are you mad at me?" He asked her, looking into her eyes.
She looked down silently, wishing he would stay quiet "Yes. Until you let them know the truth"

Ideology of RomanceWhere stories live. Discover now