CHAPTER 3
The Girls
OUT OF MEMPHIS, headed east, Highway 72 crosses the Tennessee River near the Natchez Trace and pulls the hill into the village of Bainbridge. Blowing over the solid black tarmac—a chilled wind from the west.
Tina loved her coming. Tab loathed it. Stir things up was what she did, get people agitated, and Tab was not of an age to need agitation, having enough put upon her already—it being the first afternoon of her life that she had gotten up the nerve, along with Mary Leigh and Harriett, to come in and take a booth at Trowbridge’s. High school people were welcome. Adults were endured. Junior high persons were not tolerated. Whereas derogatory looks, or no looks at all, could have shamed them into leaving had they gone in and waited at the cashier’s stand, they stood outside, the three of them, anxiously glancing in the front window, hoping for a booth to clear and then pouncing on it when it did, settling in and disregarding the odd looks.
It was a predictable place for Tina, a rising senior. She was sitting in a window booth, talking to three boys, pretending not to notice any other comings and goings. The senior booth could be looked upon by others and admired, but not sat in.
A sack of new nail polish from Woolworth’s was something for Tab to do with her hands while they waited for their drinks. After she had ordered a Cherry Coke float—Mary Leigh and Harriett had done the same—she rummaged in the bag, got out a bottle of Orange Blush, and began painting her nails, from time to time showing the color to Mary Leigh. Harriett was pretending to look through the jukebox selections, absent any money to waste on “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”—their favorite—as sung by the Platters. “Teen Angel” was playing at the time.
“It would look a lot better if you didn’t bite your fingernails down to the nub.”
“I can’t help it if I’m high-strung, Mary Leigh.”
They all made a point of not noticing as Tina got up and walked to their table, Jack Carter’s letter jacket so big on her that she had to roll the sleeves three times to find her fingers. A large gold B on the front was adorned with small silver charms—a winged shoe for track, three basketballs, two footballs. Prizes for every year he had lettered and then bestowed upon her, his personal chastity belt.
“Come on. We have to go home, remember?’
“Are you talking to me?”
“You know I’m talking to you. They spent the night in Memphis and they’re driving in from there. Mother said we all have to be home to greet Aunt Eugenia. It would be impolite if we weren’t.”
Tab tried to prolong it, taking a sip of Cherry Coke float and changing the subject. “Lately, I’ve been thinking of calling myself Tabitha,” she said, then, turning to the others, “it’s my God-given name, you know.” The others nodded in appreciation. Mary Leigh had been thinking of shortening hers to Leigh. Harriett was considering Lana. Anything to indicate a more mature self was in the offing.
“Tabitha, Smabitha, get up and let’s go.”
“I don’t need to be there. She doesn’t even like me. Besides, as you can see, we are enjoying our Coke floats.”
“You’re too young to be here anyway.” Tina turned toward the door.
“I have just as much right to be here as you.” Tab gathered up her sack, took one last suck, and followed after.
“And that nail polish is gross.” Tina let the door come close to slamming in Tab’s face. Tab reopened it and turned to give the V for victory sign to Mary Leigh and Harriett, which meant, Stay in that booth as long as you can.
They walked three blocks down River Street before turning right. Tina smiled at Mr. Clovis, who was standing outside Woolworth’s, taking a break. “Hope Tab is gonna share some of that nail paint with you, Tina. She got enough for Cox’s army.”
“I hope so, too, Mr. Clovis.” Then, out of hearing, “Fat chance I would be caught dead.”
Tab waved to two of the men sitting on benches out in front of the courthouse. “I coulda used Tangerine Twist, but it seemed too bright.”
“What you have on”—Tina tried to look bored when a carful of boys slowed to whistle—“has to be the grossest thing yet. Tangerine, whatever, couldn’t possibly be any grosser.” She ran bright red nails through long blond hair, then took off the heavy letter jacket, draping it over her shoulders—the better to see a matching pink sweater set.
Tab inspected her nails as they turned right on Dogwood, past Fuzzie’s Fine Feeds and Farm Supply, and on to the next block, which was lined with houses set back in among the dogwoods. A breeze scattered the shriveled remains of white blossoms across the sidewalk. Tab skip-stepped to come along beside. “I am not just too thrilled about this visit from Aunt Eugenia, you know. I have other things I have to do this summer. It could be a gross time.”
“That is not how you use the word gross.” Tina stopped short and looked both ways before crossing the street. “Besides, that’s what you always say, every time she comes, and then you end up tagging along with us.”
“She always asks me, and you’re just jealous.”
“She always asks you because she’s so polite and she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“I don’t see what you see in her. All the time I’m with her, I feel nervous, like something terrible might happen.”
“It’s because she’s so worldly.”
“It’s because she’s so weird. Why are we walking past our house?”
“Because, dim brain, we’re all supposed to meet up at Grandmother’s to welcome her. And another thing—I could modernize your hairstyle if you’d let me cut it.”
“Ponytails? Ponytails are very popular.”
Eyes at half-mast, the head flipping back a mane of blond hair. “On ponies.”
From a block away, they could see the cars pulled up in the drive. The twins, their youngest brother and sister, were in the front yard, playing with cousins. Charles Junior, slightly older, was taking turns riding the Radio Flyer down the front walk, careening around cracks in the concrete, dodging scattering cousins. Sunlight filtered down through the big oak trees that lined the street, dappling the front yard grass in painterly shades of green. The red Radio Flyer shot through the picture again. Delighted screams from those on the brink of annihilation. Brightly colored polo shirts and pinafores ran laughing to the four corners of the yard. Soft voices called warnings from the front porch. It was a picture so beautiful and so familiar as to be completely ignored.
The house, a two-story Georgian set squarely in the center of its two acres, was one of many that lined the easy, long-settled block. Four white columns anchored the porch, which had been added years after the building. Tiny piles of sawdust at the bottom of the columns evidenced the carpenter ants that were slowly coring out the insides.
Gliders and a swing, rocking chairs, and heavy iron rock-back rockers spread out under two large overhead fans. They—Uncle Tom and Aunt Helen, their father and mother and grandparents—were gathered there talking, reminding themselves anew of what it would be like when Eugenia arrived.
Tina and Tab were the oldest of the children, somewhere in understanding between those in the front yard and those on the front porch. They sat down near the top of the six wide steps that were the entrance. Their father, Charles, pointed to them as a welcome, never slowing in his story, but including them. “Your grandfather, seeing she was so smart, decided to send her up north to a school that would challenge her. That’s how come she ended up going to college in Virginia.” He took out a cigarette and picked up a Life magazine off the wicker side table. Conversation alone was not enough to warrant the men just sitting there. “That’s about as far north as he was willing to go with it.” He winked at his wife, Mary, before he began to read.
Then Aunt Helen: “Eugenia would be fine if she just wouldn’t arrive in a whirlwind every year and upset everybody so. That’s what drives me to distraction. Doesn’t she know I have to live here after she goes? I spend a month getting the pieces back together every summer after she v
isits.”
Tab’s grandmother, Miss Hattie, was sitting in her wicker rocker, reading the paper. They could hear a warning rattle of pages. Tina, clasping her hands to her elbows and looking out into the yard, said it loudly enough for Tab’s ears. “Here comes the one about her giving away Aunt Eugenia when she was a baby.”
One of the twins had run up and shoved an untied shoe into Tab’s lap. She was tying it too tight. “Grandmother couldn’t help it if she got sick. Gad, Tina, what do you expect?”
“I couldn’t help that I had to let her go stay with my sister for a while when the next baby came.” Miss Hattie held the paper wide out and gave the pages an extra pop, folding them back. “It was right after Helen, and I got sick. Couldn’t handle two toddlers and a baby. She always said that had a traumatic effect on the rest of her life. She felt abandoned. That was more than forty years ago.” She looked up over her glasses to anyone who was listening. Nobody much was. “She still brings it up. To this very day, she still brings it up, for heaven sakes. Now you tell me if you can remember what happened back when you were all of three years old. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.” She picked up the paper, but wasn’t finished. “The thing about it is, Mr. Ben spoiled her, that’s all, sending her to that progressive women’s school in Virginia. She was bound to come away with strange ideas. That’s where it all started—not when she was staying with my sister till she was four and crying her eyes out because she had to use somebody else’s teddy bear.” Something on the front page caught her eye. “Says here Wallace is running again, as if we didn’t know it.” She settled down into reading. “Besides, everybody loves Eugenia. We all love Eugenia.”
“Driving all the way from California in a jeep—if you can believe that’s perfectly normal—at her age,” Aunt Helen said.
Tina sighed, looking straight down at the steps, cheeks resting in palms. “You wish you had the nerve,” she whispered.
“She’s gonna hear you.”
“She is not, and so what if she does?”
Aunt Helen was swinging a crossed leg to the rhythm of the rocking chair she was sitting in. “Can you see Tom if I decided to go out and help organize a labor union—in Alabama—a labor union? And then she has to go and marry a professor that teaches at Berkeley. In California? Lord. The only thing worse would have been if he was a Communist, only we didn’t know Communists were so evil back then.” Helen rose halfway up out of the chaise and blew smoke in the air. “Has it ever occurred to y’all he might have been a Com—” She stopped herself in midsentence and glanced around to see if anybody was looking. Everybody was. “Well, it was only a logical progression in my brain. I couldn’t help it.”
“You must admit Val is not half-bad-looking,” Mary said.
“Which is amazing. She obviously doesn’t have the same ammunition as the rest of us. Let’s face it, the girl is flat-chested as they come.”
Tina, face still resting in her palms, muttered, “Gravy, that is definitely not supposed to make a difference. Aunt Helen is so, so behind the times.”
“You’re just saying that ’cause you don’t have to worry about it,” Tab whispered.
“If I was speaking to you, I would explain that it is not something we worry about. We have all talked it over in Miss Graham’s home ec class.”
“Mary Leigh says it’s of the utmost importance.”
“Mary Leigh is gross.”
“Well, the proof is in the pudding, or whatever it is they say,” Tab’s mother was saying. “Look what she got. I mean, look at Val, six four, broad shoulders, square jaw. He looks like Superman. I swear I think of Superman every time I see him.”
Aunt Helen took the last Camel out of the pack and lifted the coupon before she dropped the empty package in the big ashtray on the table beside her. “Remember that summer she came in fresh out of New York, had just spent a year up there getting analyzed? She acted like it was perfectly normal, getting analyzed. Nobody does that down here—not unless they’re crazy as a betsy bug.”
Tina almost shouted when she stood up to face them. “Well, I like it when she comes, you know.”
Everyone looked up, startled, then rushed to agreement. “Of course you do, honey. We do, too. We all love Eugenia coming—and Val, too.”
Charles put down his magazine. “We all adore Eugenia, Tina. What gave you the idea we didn’t?”
Helen looked to Mary. “Where did your daughter ever get the idea we didn’t like Eugenia coming?”
Tina’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, gravy.” She turned back around and sat down. Her mother smiled at the others and mouthed teenager, and everyone felt fine again.
A minute later Tina hopped off the steps and ran halfway down the front walk before she turned and ran back to them. “It’s her. The white jeep.”
CHAPTER 4
Maudie
THE SUN WAS ARCING WESTWARD when Reverend Earl turned his old Chevy onto Highway 72. The trip had taken longer than he’d planned. Not wanting to be noticed, Reverend Earl had decided to detour around Birmingham. They had taken the back road up to Huntsville and were now on a straight line into the sun.
Since he had picked up Maudie in Tuskegee that morning, Reverend Earl had tried intermittently to start a conversation, but they had driven mostly in silence.
Some three hours before, they had stopped for gas at a Negro-owned general store outside of Oneonta. The boy who filled their tank had begun flirting with her while he washed the windshield; at least as she looked back, she thought that’s what it must have been, flirting. She had seen the nurses and orderlies in the halls at Tuskegee.
“Now lookie here. If you ain’t something in that green dress. Where’s the party at, girl?” Maudie had smiled but said nothing, bringing her arm inside the car and fiddling with the ashtray on the door, trying not to grin like a child. The boy had leaned down to catch another glimpse as he wiped off the outside mirror on the driver’s side. “Reverend Earl, think she might be old enough to go on down to the Royal Blue and do some dancing next time y’all down this way?”
Reverend Earl had laughed as he opened the door to get out and go inside to use the rest room and pay for the gas. “Hush up there, Jimmy. This here one’s seventeen going on forty-five. She run circles round you.”
“That’s the kind I like, Reverend, smart and sassy.” He said it loudly, to be sure she heard. She had smiled at him and then quickly looked away.
When Reverend Earl got back in the car, he had brought both of them a Coke and crackers. “Sure you don’t wanta go on in and use the facilities? We been riding for a long time and we got a long time to go ’fore we can stop again.”
“I’m just fine, thank you, Reverend Earl,” she said, and waved to Jimmy, who was watching her while he checked the hood of the car next to them.
“Suit yourself.”
Now, hours later, she was furious with herself for having been so vain and for having drunk the Coca-Cola. She had wanted to go to the rest room when they stopped in Oneonta. Now she was dying to go.
Finally, Reverend Earl pulled the car onto a dirt road that led down to a little stream with large limestone rocks along one side. It was owned, he said, by a colored man, who wouldn’t mind if they used it. “This was gonna be a picnic lunch, but since we so late, it’ll have to be a early picnic supper.” He turned off the car. “Well now, miss, time to get out and stretch our legs, and I could use me a trip to the gentlemen’s room also.” He got out of the car and closed his door. “Be back in a minute to get out that picnic the folks down in Tuskegee made up for us,” and he disappeared into the bushes beside the stream.
He had left without thinking to get her crutch out of the backseat. She unlocked the door of the old Chevrolet and pushed against it. The car was so ancient and the door so off center, it had to be shoved hard for it to move at all. She pushed several times before it gave way. Then she stood and her leg brace locked into place. The rear door was as stubborn and creaky as the fro
nt. After several tries, she gave one last yank. The door swung open so hard, it knocked her backward on the ground. Her leg brace clanked against small stones and hard red clay. She lay there, her eyes closed to the sky. It was always like this—every molehill a mountain.
When Reverend Earl reappeared, walking out of the woods, leisurely fanning himself with his hat, she was standing, holding her crutch under one arm and brushing dust off of her dress with the other. “Well now, Maudie,” he said, chuckling, “you wasn’t trying to get in some of that fried chicken before I was, were you?”
She was tempted to swing at him with the crutch. “No, sir, just stretching my legs.” While he laid out the picnic, she hurried back up the dirt road to find a level place to enter the woods and get some relief.
They sat on the limestone outcroppings near the creek and ate their fried chicken and biscuits. There were fried peach pies for dessert. The cicadas were cranking up in the trees. A late-afternoon breeze was carrying cooler air. She could feel she was coming into familiar territory. The land rolled more. Spanish moss had disappeared from the trees.
“You know,” Reverend Earl said, handing her a fried pie, “I been thinking one reason you might be being so quiet is you done changed your mind ’bout doing this here job, and if you have, that’s all right. I can just as soon drive us back on down to Tuskegee, let somebody else do it.”
“I can do it, Reverend Earl.”
“This here is gonna be a hard job, and it ain’t gonna get done overnight.”
“Yes, sir, I know that.”
“Lots of folks, white and colored, don’t want no change. Fact is, I was one of ’em, thinking like that, afraid you was gonna upset the applecart, but the ladies of the church kept at me, wouldn’t let it drop, ’til finally I give in.”
She nodded her head. He droned on and on.
She was not really paying much attention to him now. He was like all the others, hemming and hawing around what they really wanted to say, so she did what she always did—changed the subject. “This is a mighty good-tasting fried pie, Reverend.” She mustered a smile for him. “How in the world did you ever get the ladies of the church to make such a feast for us?” She knew this would do it. Reverend Earl had been a widower for several years, and all the maiden ladies of the churches he visited were quick to do his bidding. “I noticed Miss Rosabell giving you a big hug when we left this morning.”
The Summer We Got Saved Page 2