Short Stories

Welcome to Author I. G. Cummings's Writing Portfolio

NOT IN A MILLION YEARS - A Novel By I. G. Cummings

NOT IN A MILLION YEARS

- Novel By I. G. Cummings

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When she thought about it, she wondered why she hadn’t screamed. She was terrified. He’d been right there, in her face, as large as life, dark charcoal skin glistening, flat nose, thicker-than-the-law-allows lips, parted in a lecherous smile. No doubt existed about his desires, and she opened her arms to him. When he reached for her, she woke up.

Margaret Brandt sat on her bed; pale feet planted on the hardwood floor of her bedroom in the starter house she’d bought a year ago. She got up and retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen furnished with old school appliances she’d replace when she remodeled after year-end bonuses. Since she was headed for a 3000-billable-hours year, she’d get a five-figure one that started with a crooked number.

Thinking about bonuses distracted her from the dream for only a short time. Why was she dreaming about a random black man she met at a night spot when he bumped into her and spilled cranberry juice down her blouse? After all, his carelessness ruined a new Rebecca Taylor that cost north of $200.

What sent chills through her on that warm June Friday night was the attraction she felt for Mr. Cranberry. She wasn’t prejudiced, right? She didn’t see color. But this was different and couldn’t happen. Could it? Being the summa cum laude college graduate and top ten per center in her law school class that she was, Margaret knew white people disguised their racism behind euphemisms like those her brain had just thumbed through. Margaret, however, grew up in a family that didn’t employ those euphemisms.

Sunday dinner two weeks ago, for example, degenerated into a gripe session about “sorry blacks” and how they wanted to “take over the world.” Her mother might have ditched the June Clever wear-pearls-and-dress-up-for-housework routine, but she sounded stuck in the 1950s when she told the table, “I wish they’d stay with their own kind.”

Margaret’s father reserved special disdain for the corporate overseers at his company. “They pontificate about ‘diversity’ and ‘inclusion’” he said, setting down his glass. “It’s all bullshit! I got no use for blacks. What do we need with them? Company got along fine when they were janitors and cleaning ladies.

“Cindy, pass the mashed potatoes, please. I’m sure Maggie’s law firm has to hire some of them. I bet none of them made the grades she did. They get pushed to the top when they don’t deserve it. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

Margaret demurred. “I’m sure all the lawyers in the firm meet our standards or they wouldn’t have been hired.”

Yet, as she sipped from her water glass and stared at the green numbers on her bedside clock (and lamented being awake at 3:40 a.m.), Margaret understood that her family had rubbed off on her. High school proved that.

One October day, Liz Woods, who was still Margaret’s closest friend, after soccer practice stood beside the bleachers talking with three teammates. One of their friends, a tennis star at their private school, had a new boyfriend.

Liz reported, “Kristin has a thing going with a guy she met at tennis camp last summer at UT.”

“So?” asked one of the others.

“He’s black, you know,” Liz told them, looking around at each member of the group.

“You’re making that up,” one offered.

“I am not. I saw them together at the mall. I called her and asked if the guy was her boyfriend. She said ‘yes.’” Liz paused, then turned to Margaret.

“Hey Maggie. Would you ever get attracted to a black guy? I could. They’re just guys. What’s the big deal?”

“Not in a million years would that happen,” Margaret replied. “Not in a million years.”

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An open book, appears to be a blank page journal, with a pen and small print on each page Debut

THAT’S DIFFERENT - A Novel By I.G. Cummings

THAT’S DIFFERENT

Novel By I.G. Cummings

Early October 2022

To Gavin McCain, that Thursday began as another warm early October day in west Tennessee. He’d agreed he’d go with his friends, Fred and Loretta Paige, and watch their 16-year-old granddaughter, Kelly, perform in a play at the new Lakeland High School in suburban Memphis. Fred was Gavin’s best friend in the Memphis chapter of the Boeing Alumni Association.

No formal “Boeing Alumni Association” existed. Former Boeing engineers and executives, who now lived in the Memphis area, met at coffee shops and restaurants. About a dozen showed up at informal gatherings – men who once worked in black pants, thin dark ties, and short-sleeved white shirts with plastic pocket protectors.

They replayed their greatest hits. They relished development of hot-shot fighters like the F/A-18 Super Hornet, the KC-135 tanker, and the 757, a commercial airliner that occupied Gavin for 15 of his Boeing years.

Now, he lived his dream of owning a cattle ranch. It was the life he’d wanted when he retired in 2019 and bought 200 acres near Mason, Tennessee, a town of 1700 about 30 miles northeast of Memphis. He remodeled the farmhouse, purchased 100 head of cattle, and hired local ranch hands. His operation wasn’t profitable yet and might never be. He didn’t much care. Living on a ranch and tending cattle was the point.

It was getting lonely out there. He wasn’t getting laid, but whose fault was that except his? He could socialize more and shoot the breeze less with the Boeing men. Gavin knew Memphis boasted attractive, eligible women who’d find appealing a six-foot-two-inch man with a full head of salt and pepper hair, blue eyes, a smooth face, well-proportioned nose, an athletic build a retired tennis pro might show off with pride, and a net worth of $6.3 million. So what if he was 63 years old? Some people said he looked 50.

Gavin met Fred and Loretta at Lakeland High at 6:45 p.m. that Thursday. In the parking lot, Loretta gave him his ticket. He shoved it into his shirt pocket and followed his friends. At the auditorium door a fresh-faced student in coat and tie took their tickets and handed each a playbill. “Enjoy the show,” he said. The auditorium smelled of fresh paint. Gavin thought it seated about 400 people. They found their seats halfway between the stage and the rear door. Gavin sat in the aisle seat, with Loretta on his right and Fred beside her. “We’re seeing what?” Gavin asked.

“Look at the playbill,” Loretta responded. “It’s Black Coffee, an Agatha Christie murder mystery -- ambitious for high school kids. Kelly says the drama teacher pushes her students to take on tough challenges.”

“What part does she play?” Gavin asked. “I might have seen this. Doesn’t somebody die right away?”

Loretta nodded. “There’s an early murder. Kelly plays Barbara, the dead man’s niece.”

“Don’t spoil it,” Fred said. “Let’s see if I can figure it out.”

She smirked and shook her head. “You won’t figure it out. All the way home you’ll ask me what this or that meant.”

The house lights flashed and the curtain rose. Fred said, “They’re starting.”

“That, they are,” Loretta whispered, “which means you should pay attention.”

After the play, Gavin, Loretta, and Fred waited in the hallway for Kelly. Family members of students involved in the production milled around and perused faculty photos that lined the walls. Kelly appeared with a tall, vibrant woman in tow. Loretta embraced her granddaughter.

“Gran! Thanks for coming,” the girl said.

“We wouldn’t have missed this,” Loretta replied. “You were great.”

“Very nice job,” Gavin said, patting Kelly’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Uncle Gavin. It’s great you came.” She looked at the woman she’d brought with her.

“Miss Connors, this is Gavin McCain. He’s not really my uncle but is a family friend. I call him ‘Uncle Gavin.’ Miss Connors is my drama teacher.”

“I’m Stephanie Connors,” the woman said. She shook Gavin’s hand. “I appreciate you coming. Kelly, these are your grandparents?”

“Yes. I’m Loretta Paige. This is Kelly’s grandfather, Fred. Your students were wonderful.”

“I wanted you to meet Miss Connors,” Kelly said. “Drama is my favorite class. We have great fun working on plays. She’s taught me so much about acting.”

“Kelly is one of my best students,” Stephanie offered, as she scanned the group. “She’s come a long way.”

Gavin studied Stephanie, who looked almost six feet tall. Brown, shoulder length hair framed a thin face. She wore lightmake up. Her dark, almost swarthy complexion left doubt about her ancestry. European facial features suggested she wasn’t Asian or Hispanic. Italian? Greek?

She wore a blue top above a red, knee length skirt. Long legs covered by black tights ended in simple flats. The face and body intrigued Gavin. What did she do with herself besides teach drama? Where had life taken her? How old was she? He guessed late 20s, but who knew? A girlish 42?

Stephanie noticed Gavin McCain’s interest. Those glances weren’t benign. What was his backstory? Above all, how old was he? Stephanie saw herself in a dating no woman’s land. She was too old – in style and spirit – for many men she attracted. Most resembled her last boyfriend, an assistant football coach at a rival school she dated three years ago. At 24, sports, hunting, and fishing consumed him. Her girlfriends regarded him as a prize because of his movie-star looks. He’d been an excellent lover, but Stephanie saw no future with him. He cared about few of the things she did. He understood current events only superficially. After a year, she dropped him. Often, men in their 30s – her age -- she met were married, some happily. Many, however, were on the prowl for extracurricular activity, something that didn’t interest Stephanie. Since that last breakup, time with her girlfriends satisfied her intellectual and entertainment needs. Vibrators relieved her sexual tension. Stephanie understood her current way of dealing with relationship deprivation couldn’t last. Should she consider older men? She pegged Gavin McCain as early-50s. But he was friends with Fred and Loretta Paige. Kelly told the class one day her grandparents were in their mid-60s. Was Gavin their contemporary? She wasn’t sure she could sign up for that.

a taster of the story

latest novels by I G Cummings Debut Novel A Love for the Ages AMAZON recent

Welcome to Author I. G. Cummings's Writing Portfolio

NOT IN A MILLION YEARS - A Novel By I. G. Cummings

THAT’S DIFFERENT - A Novel By I.G. Cummings

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