Assimilation. It was something Chaska fought against from the very start. Much like I tried to fight my attraction and gradual love for him. We were of different cultures and races. I always believed that one day after I left college, I would marry a colored man. Never once did I ever imagine that I would end up falling in love with a Lakota Sioux man.
The moment I saw him, I sensed that I was in grave trouble. He was bigger than life but at the same time, reserved. He was strong not just physically but spiritually and mentally. I was struck by his features—handsome, weather-beaten face, smooth dark skin and long, thick, flowing black hair and his quiet strength.
He and two other Indians enrolled in this historically black college. It was clear that they felt out of place and resisted wearing the uniforms but I persuaded him to and he them. He disliked being in a classroom, saying that outdoors would be better– nature would be the classroom. The desks were set up in the woods behind the college. Years later, they still sit there, neglected. As for me, I’ve a happy home elsewhere with Chaska.
This story was inspired by the 1999 movie, Unbowed. It’s a story about three Lakota Sioux men who enroll in a historically black college, and their reluctance to assimilate causes friction between their black peers. Some come to embrace their similar history, while others remain bitter. One of them falls in love with a black woman.
This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here. To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.
It was spring and I was at a party. I was bored out of my mind and then, she walked in, a vision of incomparable beauty. Our eyes met across the room and then she was making her way over to me.
In a soft, lilted voice, she introduced herself. “Nora.” Her lips parted to reveal even white teeth as she smiled and extended her hand.
“Theo,” I replied after I recovered from my shock. Her fingers felt soft against mine and unable to resist, I raise her hand so that I could brush my lips ever so lightly on the back before releasing it. Her eyes flickered over me, taking in the pinstriped suit, silk shirt and new tie before returning to my face which felt like it was on fire. It was my turn to look her over.
Short hair in a style reminiscent of the roaring twenties, her exquisite neck covered in a white beaded necklace, a low-cut black dress which fell to her ankles and a high slit, revealed a shapely right leg. Her skin was rich and dark and smooth. I longed to touch it. My eyes darted back up to her face. “You like what you see?” she asked coyly.
“Yes!” was my immediate and impassioned response. I was high as a kite but not from the glass of wine in my hand, mind you. She intoxicated me, making my mind soar with all sorts of delicious thoughts. “May I get you a drink?” To be quite honest, I would have preferred to take her somewhere else for a drink.
“Sure, I’ll have what you’re having.”
I promptly excused myself and five minutes later, returned with a glass of Chardonnay. I was rewarded with a lovely smile which made my heart flutter and my knees weak.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the glass. Our fingers touched.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, sounding a tad breathless. No woman has ever had such an effect on me before. It was thrilling and terrifying.
We spent the evening together, getting to know each other and then, after we finished our wine, I asked her if she wanted us to leave and go for dinner. I hadn’t eaten since lunch and was starving. The food at this shindig didn’t look at all appetizing. Besides, I just wanted to get out of there.
She readily agreed and in a few minutes, we were in my car heading to my favorite restaurant by the pier. Over linguine, large spicy meatballs and more wine, we talked and laughed and had a great time. It was the beginning of what I know will turn out to be a beautiful and exciting relationship.
This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for yesterday’s prompt, spring and today’s prompt, Kite. If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.
Although things have changed over the years, seeing couples like Daniel and me is still anathema for some people. There are times when we’re walking down the sidewalk and people stare at us. Yesterday afternoon, when a woman was glaring at us, Daniel stopped suddenly and kissed me. Red-faced, she marched off.
This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click HERE.
I work at Mr. Thornhill’s Mill. I been working there since I was little and me Ma before me. Me sisters as soon as they’re old enough, they’ll work here too. It’s not bad, to be honest. It’s hard work but Mr. Thornhill’s a fair man and he treats us well enough.
Sometimes, he comes in here and walks about, inspecting our work. He’s tall and very handsome. I’m sweet on him. Ma tells me to remember meself. She said a gentleman like Mr. Thornhill wouldn’t set his cap for me. She’s wrong. The bairn growing inside me proves that.
This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here. To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.
“But, my Dear, Mr. Foster shall be calling on you at precisely three o’ clock.”
Anna stared at her mother. “Oh, I forgot that he was coming.”
“You would do well not to slight a man of Mr. Foster’s constitution. I’m sure you’re not impervious to his singular affection for you.”
“No, I cannot say that I am. I will admit that Mr. Foster is a very amiable man and I have enjoyed our conversations but I’m afraid that my affection for him is of a platonic nature.”
“My Dear, you would do well to remember that you have no beauty or fortune to recommend you to any man. And so far Mr. Foster is the only gentleman who has shown any solicitude toward you. Don’t let your fancy notions about love blind you to the fact that if you offend Mr. Foster in any way and he withdraws himself as your suitor, you will end up an old maid like your Aunt May.”
Anna took a deep breath. She didn’t want to lose her temper. “Mama, I’m going for a walk now,” she said. “I can do with some fresh air.”
Her mother looked rather put out and she sniffed indignantly, her expression one of censure as she gazed upon her rebellious daughter. It was Anna’s fault, really that there was a rift in their relationship. She had always been a rebellious and unconventional child. “If you want to go gallivanting about the place, by all means do so,” she said. “Just make sure that you are here when Mr. Foster calls. I will not have you embarrass your father and me.”
“I will be back before Mr. Foster comes, Mother.” And after giving her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, she left the room.
What a relief it was to be out of the house. The temperature was mild–pleasant, though the sun wasn’t strangely absent. She headed straight to her favorite spot–the clearing in the wood and the rock with the crack. When she reached it, her face was flushed but she felt invigorated. She sat down on the rock and removed her bonnet. She smoothed her fingers over the golden wisps of her that brushed against her forehead. She could remain there all afternoon but she had to return to the house before Mr. Foster got there. Drat.
Why did Mr. Foster have to show such a marked preference for her company when he could easily have shown the same to other young ladies, like her cousin, Charlotte, for example. Charlotte seemed like a better suited companion for him than she was. And as her mother liked to remind her, Charlotte was very sweet girl with such an agreeable disposition.
“Why can’t you be more like your cousin?” was her mother’s constant query. As fond as she was of Charlotte, there were times when she found her wanting, not to mention boring. No, she would never be like dear sweet and irreproachable Charlotte and that suited her well.
After spending a long time there, enjoying the solitude and nature, she reluctantly quit the place and returned home. Slowly, she entered the foyer, removed her bonnet and made her way to the sitting-room where she would receive her visitor. Upon entering the room, she was surprised to see a strange gentleman standing there beside her mother who was sitting on the sofa. “Anna, my Dear, this is Mr. Abbotsford, Mr. Foster’s nephew.”
Mr. Abbotsford bowed and Anna curtsied. “Miss Fairley. I’m here on my uncle’s behalf. Regrettably, he has been called away on urgent business in London and has bestowed upon me the important task of conveying his deepest regret that he’s unable to keep his appointment with you. I asked me to offer you his profound apologies.”
Before Anna could reply, her mother spoke up. “Mr. Abbotsford, please inform your uncle that although his absence is of a considerable disappointment for my daughter, that she understands his predicament and that upon his return, she will be more than happy to receive him whenever he is able to facilitate another visit.”
Mr. Abbotsford bowed. “I shall inform my uncle of your disappointment, understanding and eagerness to see him.” His gaze shifted back to Anna.
Anna met his stare squarely. He wasn’t at all like his uncle. He was tall with very striking features. His black hair framed a very handsome and tanned face. It was slightly long and brushed against the crisp white collar of his shirt. He looked and had the manners of a gentleman. He looked to be six and twenty. She wondered what his occupation was and why Mr. Foster never spoke of him.
Mrs. Fairley cleared her throat. “Mr. Abbotsford, if you have no pressing business to take you away, perhaps you can stay for tea?”
“I would be delighted,” he replied.
“Very well. I shall ring for tea. Please be seated, Mr. Abbotsford. Sit there by the fireplace. Anna, come and sit beside me.”
Anna dutifully went and sat beside her mother. After arranging her dress and making herself comfortable, she looked over to where Mr. Abbotsford was. Again she wondered why Mr. Foster had never spoken of him nor introduced him. Perhaps, it had to do with the fact that he was young and very handsome. And perhaps, if Mr. Foster were privy to the thoughts that which occupied her mind as she studied his nephew, he would never have enlisted his help to bring her news of the urgent business which had spirited him away this afternoon, preventing him from being at her side now.
As she sipped her tea and listened attentively to the conversation between her mother and their visitor, she hoped that she would see him again. Surely, Mr. Foster won’t object to her family getting better acquainted with his nephew. Perhaps, she could persuade her mother to invite him for dinner. There was no telling how long Mr. Foster would be in London.
This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Rift at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
Young and sassy are the words my husband use to describe me. We are opposites. He’s an introvert and I’m an extrovert. He’s in his mid-fifties with grey sideburns but he still has the body and libido of a much younger man. I’m in my late twenties and I’m trying to keep up with him.
We met last year when a mutual friend invited a group of people to Maui for a week of sun and fun. Lorenzo didn’t go with anyone and nor did I. We were immediately attracted to each other and for the rest of the vacation, we were inseparable.
A year and four months later, we are newlyweds. For our honeymoon we went on a 12-day Mediterranean cruise which ended in Venice, the city of love. After we spent two days there, we headed to Milan to visit his family. We figured we might as well since we were in Italy.
I must say that although I half-expected it, it still came as a bitter disappointment when his parents made it painfully obvious that they didn’t approve of me. No doubt my color had more to do with it than my age. His teenage children from his previous marriage were polite but I could tell that they didn’t approve either. Being married to me meant that their father wasn’t going to return to Milan or reconcile with their mother.
I feel sorry for them. When my parents divorced and my father remarried, I was upset. I wasn’t nice to my step-mother, Violet because she ruined all chances of my parents getting back together. It took years for me to get over that disappointment and be civil to Violet. Now, she and I are friends. And I can see how happy she makes my father. I hope that one of these days, Lorenzo’s children will come around too. He’s the love of my life and his happiness means the world to me.
Lorenzo and I ended up spending only two days in Milan and then we were off to Rome. I loved Rome–the people, the food and the piazzas. On our last night, we visited Piazza Navona and enjoyed a couple of gelato as we admired Bernini’s perfectly lit Fountain of the Four Rivers.
Lorenzo and I were sorry to leave Italy but we were excited about beginning our life as a married couple and moving into our new home overlooking Central Park. It took a while for me to get back into a routine because of jet-lag.
Ten weeks have passed since our honeymoon and I’m standing in front of my enormous closet, looking at the designer clothes, bags and shoes I brought back from Milan and Rome. As I look through the outfits a smile tugs at my lips. I can’t wait to see Lorenzo’s face when I tell him the good news tonight over a home cooked dinner. We have two wonderful reasons to celebrate.
That’s right. We’re going to have twins. Whether they are boys or girls or one of each, we won’t know for some time or maybe, we’ll decide to wait to find out. Already, I’m making plans to turn the extra bedroom into a nursery and I’m just dying to go shopping for the babies.
The chiming of the clock reminds me that I have to get dinner ready. I close the closet doors and leave the bedroom. I’m going to make sure that tonight is a very special night for Lorenzo.
I’ve been learning to cook Italian dishes thanks to Jamie Oliver. I’m going to make tasty tuna meatballs with pasta and Caesar salad. And for desert, what else but his favorite–pistachio gelato from our favorite neighborhood gelato place.
After dinner and when we’re relaxing in the living-room, then I will tell him that we’re going to have twins. And then, we celebrate with a bottle of Martinelli’s Gold Medal non-alcoholic Sparkling Cider.
This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for Sunday’s word: closetand Monday’s word: jet. If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.