These Arms of Mine
The album clicked off, and Bucky looked up from the book balanced on his chest. He watched as the arm picked the needle up and moved back to its place, the record stopping its spin. The book snapped shut almost immediately. He tossed it on the coffee table, swinging his feet over the side of the couch. He had jumped on Sarah giving him the go ahead to explore the record collection when he was there, promising to turn the sound down low and keep his fingers from touching the grooves. Turns out there was more variety than he had initially thought, rock and jazz and funk; some hidden in more crates in the hall closet. But he learned quickly that Sarah’s favorite was soul. So when she joined him some nights, when it was especially warm in the house or Sam had managed to do something especially stupid, leaving her concerned; that is what they listened to.
He didn’t remember the songs, not really. He had been there of course, a list of names from the 60s reminding him all too much of that fact. He was sure that he had most definitely heard some of it playing from radios and in clubs and from small diners full of kids. Sometimes they even sounded familiar, sending a feeling through his body that was warm. And when Sarah hummed along or the boys carefully placed the needle, finding one specific song, it was like the opening of a door to the farthest places in his memory.
He approached the turntable, reaching out to gently take the edges of the disc. He flipped it over smoothly, laying it on the platter to play side B of the record. A creak from the stairs made his ears perk up,his hands freeze in place, but the small steps that followed immediately put him at ease. He moved the arm, placing the needle on the edge with a feather light release.
These arms of mine...
“Otis, huh?”
“It’s his first album,”
“Look at you,” her footsteps signaled her moving further into the room, closer to where he stood, “Learning how to Google.”
He turned to face her, smirking in response. He placed a hand on the shelf behind him, as if trying to place some space between them. The speakers vibrated it lightly beneath his touch, the notes of the bass shooting small sparks through his hand as the rough voice moved through the room.
Lonely and feeling blue...
She stepped up to him but looked around his back to the sleeve sitting next to the turntable, black and white with a pop of pink. She gazed at it with a distant look, as if it was on the other side of the world instead of only a lunge away.
“He was my daddy’s favorite.”
A small smile formed on her lips, making her eyelids droop slightly. She looked back to him, eyes sparkling beneath her eyelashes.
“A real southern boy” she imitated what he imagined was her fathers gruff voice, lowering her register, “You don’t know nothing about that, Sarah.”
A small smile formed on his lips, a chuckle in the back of his throat slipping out. It reminded him of Sam, the way he turned into an old man when he spoke sometimes. She smiled wider at his reaction, eyes going back to the abandoned record sleeve.
“He used to dance with Mama in the living room like no one was watching. Said Otis Redding could make a man cry and a woman fall in love,” a chuckle broke her sentence.
“It’s good.”
It was a lame thing to say and he knew it, but he did like it. Slow but steady. A rough edge in the man’s voice, like he had seen too much to handle. The bouncing of the bass and the slow moving of the guitar playing off each other. There was something like longing, pleading. Building some sort of untapped feeling deep in his stomach.
“I haven’t heard this in a long time.”
Her voice was nearly a whisper.
Bucky knew he was staring, watching her relive a memory he couldn’t see but seemed to be able to feel. He was aware of every feeling in his body. His socked feet on the cold wood floors. The way a few strands of hair brushed his forehead with the slight draft from a window not fully in its frame. His mouth dry, a brief reprieve of wetness in his cheeks and throat when he swallowed. The music swirling around and engulfing them under the dim light from the table lamp.
“You ever dance to it?” Bucky asked softly.
She was looking at him curiously, head cocked. Her dark eyes seemed amused at question, sparkling and crinkling where the skin met at the corners. And though her braids were under a bonnet and her body hidden beneath an oversized t-shirt, Bucky wanted nothing more than to touch her.
“Never,”
And if you would let them hold you…
He took it as an invitation, a step forward into her space. She didn’t move, her eyes fixed on his own. Hands to her waist, toes nearly knocking, a deep sigh; the feeling of holding someone just like he could remember. She responded slowly, hands moving first to his shoulders, before sliding behind his neck, her hands clasping. She was the one staring now, full on and unafraid. The skin at the nap of neck tingling at the contact of her skin, rough from years of working on the docks. The feeling of her thin shirt beneath his fingertips comforting.
He moved her slowly, small steps that barely got them out of their place next to the turntable. Some small voice deep in the dark space of his mind screamed about vulnerability and potential danger and stupidity, but she was relaxed under his touch. No sense of hesitation as she accepted his bold move. She slid her hands down his chest to his middle. Her head found his shoulder, turning into his neck. Her breath was warm, and her touch softer than anything he could remember feeling.
He was still getting used to it, to being trusted. Sarah had to have known what his hands had done, the things that had splattered on his skin, the things he had seen. She should have ran away a long time ago, far away from him and whatever this was. Should have held AJ and Cass behind her, protecting them from things he had done. But instead her small hands were holding onto his shoulders and back like he was something soft and easy, swaying to music like she must have watched her father do with her mom. Remembering a life that was so far away that if she let go, it would be gone forever.
I need your warm arms and loving arms to hold me tight….