Read Online The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez - Free Book Online

bags filled with dirt in the root cellar where she hid so long ago. She had felt the thin depth of soil beneath the carpets and weighted in their cloaks. Although they kept the dinner hour as a gathering time, they had never eaten in front of her. The Girl cooked her own meals, often eating alone, except when Bird prepared a corn pudding or a rabbit she had killed. Then they sat together as the Girl ate and Bird sipped tea. She had seen Gilda and Bird go out late in the night, both wearing breeches and woolen shirts. Sometimes they went together, other times separately. And both spoke to her without voices.
    The warning from Minta and the whispers of the secret religion, vodun, still did not frighten her. She had known deep fear and knew she could protect herself when she must. But there was no cause for fear of these two who slept so soundly in each other’s arms and treated her with such tenderness.
    On the afternoon of the eighth day at the farmhouse the Girl returned from a walk through the fields to get a drink of water from the back pump. She was surprised to hear, through the kitchen window, Gilda’s voice drawn tight in argument with Bird. There was silence from the rest of the room, then a burst of laughter from Gilda.
    â€œDo you see that we’re fighting only because we love each other? I insist we stop right this minute. I won’t have it on such a glorious evening.”
    The Girl could hear her moving around the small wooden table, pulling back a chair. Gilda did not sit in the chair, instead lowering herself onto Bird’s lap. Bird’s expression of surprise turned into a laugh, but the tension beneath it was not totally dispelled.
    â€œI’m sick of this talk. You go on about this leaving as if there is somewhere in the world you could go without me.”
    Her next words were cut short by Gilda’s hand on her mouth. And then Gilda’s soft, thin lips pressed her back in the chair.
    â€œPlease, my love, let’s go to our room so I can feel the weight of your body on mine. Let’s compare the tones of our skin as we did when we were young.”
    Bird laughed just as she was expected to do. The little joking references to time and age were their private game. Even knowing there was more to the kisses and games right now, she longed to feel Gilda’s skin pressed tightly to her own. She stood up, still clasping Gilda to her breasts, and walked up the stairs with her as if she were a child.
    The Girl remained on the porch looking out into the field as the sun dropped quickly behind the trees. She loved the sound of Gilda and Bird laughing, but it seemed they did so only when they thought no others were listening. When it was fully dark she went into the kitchen to make supper for herself. She put on the kettle for tea, certain that Bird and Gilda would want some when they came down. She rooted through the clay jars until she had pulled together a collection of sweet-smelling herbs she thought worthy. She was eager to hear their laughter again.
    That evening Bird took the buggy out and called to the Girl to help load the laundry bags inside. The Girl was silent as she lifted the bags up to the buckboard platform to Bird, who kept glancing up at the windows.
    â€œTell Minta I said hello.” The Girl spoke tentatively when the quiet seemed too large. “Tell her not to leave without me.” She figured that was a good enough joke since Minta had been deviling everybody with her dreamtalk of going west.
    Bird stood straight, dropping the final bundle on the floor of the buckboard, and looked down at the Girl. “What does that mean?”
    â€œI’m teasin’. She keep talkin’ about movin’ out there with Rachel like I goin’ with her.”
    Bird turned silent, sat, and grasped the reins of the restless horse. The Girl felt more compelled to fill the air. “I’m not goin’. ”
    â€œYou could, you might want to. Eventually