Weathered Bird: A Jazz Age Novelette (House of Black Flowers Short)

By Danielle Yvette

Born to a family of Southern sharecroppers, Birdy Whitaker has resiliency in her blood and as a child learns quickly to adapt to the fast paced streets of 1920s Philadelphia. A young single mother of the prohibition-era, Birdy has plans to be made into an honest woman -- that is if she could manage to get handsome, charming and professional bootlegger Sidney Allen to cooperate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Yvette
• Release date: Apr 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311027924

Danielle Yvette

Author of Historical and Literary African-American fiction.Learn more at:www.danielleyvettebooks.com

Book preview

Weathered Bird

A Jazz Age Novelette

House of Black Flowers Short

By Danielle Yvette

Mills Manor Press

Copyright 2014 Danielle Yvette

Smashwords Edition

Weathered Bird

Copyright: DanielleYvette

Published: April 2 2014

Publisher: Mills Manor Press

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

Contents

Dedication

I

II

III

IV

V

Author's Note

About the Author

For Yvette, my mother, who believes in me more than I believe in myself. Thank you for your love, encouragement and inspiration.

I

1.

October 1926

Birdy laid in bed listening to the rhythm of Janie breathing next to her. She shifted, hoping for a position that would allow her to sleep. Her thin nightgown was sticky on her skin; sweat beads formed in between her breasts and dripped down her chest. Her bladder full, she rose, careful not to wake her daughter.

She left the room without a bathrobe. Her heat made her forget her modesty, walking in the hall with thighs and full arms exposed. Barefoot, her feet cooled on the tiles of the bathroom floor. She sat on the toilet and relieved herself.

The sink directly across from her, she thought of Sidney shaving there in the mornings, his reflection winking at her in the mirror. Chin lifted, he would look at himself carefully as to not nick his skin. Sink and mirror slightly low, he would bend, his shoulder blades sticking out like a cats, his waist line defined by the muscles of his back. Birdy would sit where she was sitting now, on the toilet, watching him. Always watching him.

Her skin went cold with chills as if the blood in her body had been drained from her. She covered her mouth as tears fell from her eyes like water pouring from a busted pipe. She doubled over at the understanding that the end had came and went. She shook her head. With her hands, she steadied herself on the toilet as her body trembled and rocked. Her cries echoed off the bathroom walls. No. She cried like she was drowning.

Weakened, her body could take no more and the sobs slowed down before stopping completely. She deprecated. Shit dropped and splashed into the bowl beneath her. She pulled herself off the toilet and washed her hands before looking away when she saw her red eyes and wet puffy face in the mirror. She dried her tears and walked out; her legs heavy like lead as she made her way back to her room.

Once in bed, she felt a weight hold her down in place and she could not move, as if a brick wall sat on top of her heart.

2.

Sidney Allen was sixteen, six years ago, when she first laid eyes on him. She remembered how he glowed like nothing she'd seen before. It wasn't the brightness of his complexion; for he was so high yellow that he could pass for white. But in her eyes, a source of light emanated out of him, and it warmed her.

The Colored Women's Society of Philadelphia hosted a cabaret for Negro youth at the Germantown YWCA. A live jazz band performed in the gymnasium and that's where Sidney took center stage. A crowd formed around him as he danced the Cake Walk, the Black Bottom, and the Break Away, dressed in his fitted suit and wing-tipped, two-toned oxfords shoes, while dragging some silly girl along who couldn't keep up.

Birdy played with her fingers as she watched him. She was twelve, tall and hopelessly invisible. A white shapeless dress hung from her sharp shoulders and draped her skinny frame. She thought she could do a better job at dancing with him than that red bone he mopped the floor with. But that's what all the girls thought. She would learn that admiring Sidney was a communal sport. He attracted attention like a star and