"When I think that you had me when you were only three years older than I am now, I can understand how your decision-making might have been immature." She put her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my waist and we rocked back and forth a little, as we had when she was younger and I'd try to soothe her boo boo or hurt feelings.
Later we sat in the kitchen and had sandwiches and iced tea, and she gabbed about her step-brother and -sister and the new house Joe and his wife had bought, and how glad she was that she didn't live there. "I love seeing Daddy, but I like being with you best. And I love being in Jean Ville. I can't wait for Thanksgiving break." She took a bite of her sandwich and it was obvious she didn't realize that what she said was profound and made me feel happy.
"Would you like to meet Rodney?" I whispered it as if afraid for her to hear and become angry, or reject my suggestion.
"Of course I'd like to meet him. You mean when he moves back to Jean Ville and we go for holiday?"
"Well, sooner if you'd like. He's stationed in Brooklyn."
"Brooklyn, New York? Across the river, where we used to live?"
"Yes. Fort Hamilton. He's a Major in the army, a JAG officer. That's a…"
"I know what a JAG is—basically a lawyer in the military. A Major? Really?"
"He's special, Lilly. I've told you that, but I guess you have to meet him and judge for yourself."
"When can he come over?" She stood up, and her chair screeched. She seemed excited, filled with anticipation.
"Whenever you say. You're in charge." I looked up at her from my seat and felt incredulous at her positive reaction.
"Well, NOW! As soon as he can. Call him." She was so excited I expected her to start jumping up and down like she had when she was a child and Santa brought her a pink bicycle and a miniature kitchen. I got up and went to the den and picked up the phone on the library table behind the sofa. She followed me and almost hung on my shoulder as I dialed Rodney's phone number.
"Hi," I said when he answered. "You busy?"
"I've been waiting to hear from you, beautiful. How's your day?"
"Pretty good, I…" Behind me Lilly was chanting.
"Ask him, ask him." She was impatient and acted excited in a way I hadn't seen her behave since she'd become a teenager. She was good at keeping her feelings in check, trying to act like an adult, but today she was acting like a typical fifteen-year-old.
"I was wondering when you could come over. Lilly's home and she'd like to meet you." I held my breath and there was silence for longer than usual while I allowed myself to second-guess everything. But Rodney came through.
"Wow. That's great. I'll take the subway and be there in less than an hour. I love you, Susie." I heard the buzz after he hung up but continued to hold the phone to my ear.
"What'd he say? What'd he say?"
"He's on his way." I hung up the receiver and felt like I was going to be sick. I went to the bathroom and vomited my sandwich. It was all too much. When I came out of the bathroom, Lilly was sitting on my bed.
"What should I wear?" She was still excited, and I had to get in gear. I swallowed my fear and helped her select jeans and a shirt from the new clothes I'd bought her. She didn't complain that I'd shopped without her or say I didn't know her taste. She liked almost everything I'd bought and chose a silk shirt that had a collar and two chest pockets. It was emerald green and brought out her eyes. She tried to tame her curls with a hairbrush but it was impossible, so she pulled it back in a ponytail and tendrils popped out around her face. She looked beautiful and innocent, and very much like Rodney.
We sat on the sofa to wait but she was fidgety and kept getting up and walking to the intercom. She would go into the foyer and open the door to the hall and peer at the elevators. Finally, she sat down again and the buzzer sounded on the living room wall near the foyer. We both jumped up.
I went to the intercom and Lilly was hanging on me, lifting herself up on her toes then letting her heels down again, over and over. I pressed the button and said, "Yes?"
"Major Thibault is in the lobby, Mrs. Ryan," Joseph said.
"Please send him up, Joseph." I looked at Lilly and her happy face had turned to a huge question mark. It scared me.
"Thibault?" She mouthed the word, then repeated it aloud, "Thibault?"
"Yes. Rodney Thibault." I walked into the foyer and had my hand on the doorknob when she whispered behind me.
"You mean Mr. Ray Thibault who owns the Esso station is my…?" She was so close I could smell the turkey on her breath. I wasn't sure how to answer her, and there was very little time to explain. I turned to face her.
"I'm sorry. Did I forget to tell you his last name?"
"That means Ellie Thibault is my cousin?" Her mind was going in a thousand directions and I didn't know how to get her to refocus on the fact that she was about to meet her father for the first time.
"I don't know Ellie. Who is she?" I was lost in Lilly's dilemma when the doorbell rang, and I jumped and pulled on the doorknob that was already in my hand.
Standing in the hall in starched blue jeans and a green and beige striped rugby shirt was Rodney. Even though I was expecting him, I was surprised. He looked over my shoulder and things happened so quickly that before I could say a word he walked past me, squeezing my shoulder as he went by, and when I turned around, Lilly was in his arms. They were both crying, her arms wrapped around his waist, his long arms around her shoulders. He was bent over and the side of his face rested on the top of her head. I watched the natural love between a father and daughter happen.
Today I wonder why I worried so much about Rodney and Lilly meeting and not loving each other. It was no different from the first time I met her. This father and daughter were so much alike—tender-hearted, caring, non-judging, smart, and they automatically loved each other without reservation.
I can't describe the reunion we had that night. All three of us were in love with each other. We floated downstairs to have dinner at the Brasserie and I don't remember what we ate. Rodney asked Lilly questions and she chattered on about her past and her visits to Jean Ville and how she was so happy to know that her best friends were her cousins and how she wanted to be a doctor when she was older and that she didn't have a boyfriend yet because none of the boys were smart enough.
She asked Rodney about his life in the military, and I learned that he'd been stationed in England and had seen all of Western Europe and parts of the Eastern Bloc. He'd been to North Africa and Egypt, and was interested in visiting Israel someday.
I was a spectator, and it was like watching the best movie I'd ever seen, listening to them talk and learning things about both Lilly and Rodney I didn't know. Every now and then one of them would realize I was there and say something to me like, "Did you hear that, he's been to Egypt." or "You didn't tell me she wanted to be a doctor." Otherwise, I sat at the table and had the most sensational evening of my entire life with the two people I loved most in the world.
Lilly and I saw Rodney every day after that evening. He didn't spend the night, because we didn't think it was appropriate, but being with Rodney and Lilly was better than making love.
The week before Thanksgiving, Rodney showed up with pizza and we sat in the kitchen with a six-pack of Cokes. Rodney and Lilly had burping contests, and I kept reprimanding them for their manners. We laughed a lot. Then Rodney asked us if we could go into the living room, that he had something serious to discuss with us. I had no idea where this was going as Lilly and I sat on the sofa, holding hands and Rodney paced in front of us with his hands clasped behind his back.
"I guess there's no other way to say this but to come right out with it." He stopped pacing and stood with his feet apart, hands still behind his back and looked from me to Lilly, back and forth. "I want to marry you. Both of you. So how can I convince you to say, 'Yes’?”
He brought his hands around to the front and had a black velvet box in each palm. He got
down on both knees and flipped the boxes open. The box in his left hand held a two-carat diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds that made the stone look triple the size. The other box held a lime green peridot. It was Lilly's birthstone, and she knew it right away.
Neither Lilly nor I spoke at first, and I saw beads of perspiration gather on Rodney's brow as we hesitated. I was waiting for Lilly and, I guess, she was waiting for me. We finally looked at each other and she nodded at me. I turned to Rodney and said, "I'm convinced!"
"Me, too," Lilly jumped off the sofa and hugged Rodney's neck. He put my ring on the coffee table and lifted one of his knees so Lilly could sit on it. As he slid the ring on her finger, I was reminded of the time Josh had done that very thing when Lilly was six. I wondered if she remembered.
She looked at me and a sign passed between the two of us that said, "We've done this before. It was good then, and it's good now."
Lilly got off Rodney's knee and sat on the sofa, admiring her ring, turning it around, holding it up to the light.
He looked at me and pointed then retracted his index finger, a sign for me to come closer. I got up and sat on his knee and he slipped the diamond ring on my finger. I hugged him and we kissed deeply and passionately until Lilly said, "Hey, you two, stop it, you're embarrassing me." We all started laughing and had a group hug that ended with the three of us on the floor rolling around, tickling each other and comparing our rings.
That night after Lilly went to bed, Rodney and I went to my bedroom, made love, and he spent the night for the first time since he'd met Lilly. I thought he should be gone by the time she woke up in the morning but he said, "No secrets. We will build this family on honesty."
When she got up the next morning, he was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper, drinking coffee. She poured a glass of orange juice and sat with us as if it was perfectly normal to get up and have breakfast with your mother and father.
Chapter Twenty-One
***
Mama
Lilly had thanksgiving week off, and as much as we hated to leave Rodney, we flew to Louisiana to spend her vacation on Gravier Road. She was pensive during the cab ride to the airport. After we were checked in and waiting at our gate, I noticed how fidgety she was and knew there was something on her mind, something she needed to talk about but didn't know how to start.
"You okay, sweetheart?" I patted her leg and left my hand on her knee. "Want to talk about something?"
"I was just wondering about you and Rodney. I mean, I don't want to be nosey, but how long have you known him. When was I born? Where was he?"
Let's see, how do I begin? Hmmmm.
A Love Story
1963-present
I'll start when I was almost thirteen years old and my dad pulled into the Esso station in Jean Ville and I was sitting shotgun in his car. The most gorgeous boy I'd ever seen came to the car and started washing the windshield while my dad was in the office with the owner. I tried to ignore the boy but my eyes seemed to be part of a magnetic field that pulled me towards him. I knew everyone at school around my own age so I wondered how I could have missed him.
When he told me he went to the colored school I didn't believe him. I mean, he didn't look colored and anyway, he had such refined manners and seemed so, I don't know, dignified, intelligent, sophisticated—not that there aren't Negroes who have all those qualities, it's just that the only colored people I knew at the time were Catfish and Tootsie and well, you know Tootsie. She's just down to earth, as was Catfish.
Anyway, the boy started talking to me and even though I was too young to understand, I was attracted to him way back then. It was about two years later, when I was around your age, that I really fell in love with Rodney. I'll never forget it.
Over the next two years I saw him whenever I went with my dad to the Esso station, and we’d talk.
One afternoon, Marianne and I were in the hayloft in the Quarters and he showed up, just swung his long leg onto the loft from the ladder and scooted towards me on his knees. He reached his arms out when he saw me and I didn't know what to do at first, but when I looked at him and he smiled the most genuine smile, I moved towards him. He touched one of my hands and I shivered. He let his fingers walk up my arm while he scooted closer to me, until he could grip my shoulder. His other hand found mine and he took it into his as if he'd just asked me to dance.
All the time he stared at me and I looked over his shoulder at Marianne who mouthed, "What are you doing?" I shrugged and looked back at Rodney and thought, he's so gorgeous and the look on his face was indescribable. I can still see it today, all these years later.
He held my hand and we sat with our backs to the wall, our legs in front of us and our thighs and shoulders touching. He started to talk. I don't remember what he said, but I loved the sound of his voice. It was deep and raspy with just a hint of Cajun-ness in the twang. He wore a Dallas Cowboys baseball cap and looked masculine, handsome, and gentle all at the same time. Later I learned the dictionary has a word to describe him: mansuetude, which I translated to mean, gentle masculinity.
He had broad shoulders and seemed so big next to me, and I wasn't small at five-feet, seven-inches. I remember he told me I was beautiful. It was the first time anyone had ever told me that. I felt prickly pins run up and down my spine and was speechless. It was stifling hot and humid in the hayloft and where our shoulders touched, our skin stuck together.
He asked me to go for a walk and we climbed down the ladder and walked toward the cane fields. He held my hand and pulled me along until we got to the rows. He dropped my hand, took out his pocketknife, pulled on one of the stalks, and then cut off a rod of cane. He sliced it into three pieces and handed one to me and the other to Marianne. I'd never had a piece of fresh sugar cane so I didn't know what to do with it. I watched them suck the sugar out, but I just held mine.
A little later we sat on the ground outside the barn and talked about what we liked such as our favorite subjects in school, books we'd read. We found out we had a lot in common, especially that we loved books—high-brow stuff like Chaucer and Cheever. We agreed that our favorite place was the library.
He told me that the colored kids at his school didn't have textbooks, and it seemed outrageous to me that schools didn't provide learning materials based on skin color. Over the next few years Rodney, Marianne, and I devised a project where I would confiscate discarded books from my school for their school.
I got a volunteer position in the school library and I'd box up old discarded books, especially textbooks Rodney identified as ones they needed, and I'd leave a window unlocked on certain evenings. We'd meet behind the school and Rodney would use his uncle's pickup truck and drive under the unlocked window, then climb from the bed of the truck into the library and hand the boxes to me and Marianne.
I remember how we used to drive away with the lights off on the truck and he and Marianne would drop me off two blocks from my house. I'd walk home and say I'd been at the library—which wasn't an actual lie.
Lilly and I laughed at how I justified my whereabouts to my parents when I was in high school. She said, "Oh, Susie, you were bad." I said it was for a good cause and we laughed some more. Then we were quiet.
"Well, what happened next? I mean with you and Rodney?"
Not much until I went to LSU. Rodney was two years older than me but we graduated from our separate high schools the same year because, I guess you could say my mother had me on an accelerated program. He was eighteen and I was sixteen and we both went to college in Baton Rouge, although I was at LSU and he was at Southern. Even colleges were segregated in those days. Anyway, that's when we dated seriously. Those were the best four months of my life, even though we had to sneak and couldn't go out in public. We saw each other every chance we had.
Somehow, my dad found out I was seeing someone, although I don't think he knew who. So he shipped me off to Sarah Lawrence in New York. By then I was seventeen. The ne
xt year, Rodney saved enough money to come to New York for a week at Thanksgiving and we had the most glorious week of visiting the library, sitting in coffee houses, going to concerts. No one seemed to notice we were not the same race.
We made lots of casual friends and felt accepted everywhere we went. Until that week I don't think we ever thought there was a chance we'd ever be able to be together, but we started to believe and dream that we could be married one day and live in New York.
We both needed to finish college and he wanted to go to law school. We felt we could wait. It would be worth it.
About six weeks after Rodney's visit to New York, I found out I was going to have a baby. Josh was my doctor. That's how we met. I knew if I told Rodney about the baby—about you—he would quit school and come to New York to marry me.
It was too dangerous for his family. It's hard for me to describe the things they would do in those days to colored people who dared to even speak to a white person. Anyway, I thought about how he'd have to get a job as a janitor and would end up resenting me and…
“Well, Lilly, I can't explain all the reasons I didn't tell him or the reasons I chose to give you a better life with a couple who would be great parents,” I tried not to look at her sitting next to me in the airport. “I was eighteen, scared, stupid, far away from any family support. I'm not making excuses, but I made the decision I made; if it was wrong I am so sorry. This will sound trite and you might find it hard to believe, but I made those decisions because I loved you so much.”
Lilly grabbed my hand and squeezed it. She held it on the armrest between our two chairs. "Go on," she said.
"I'm not sure what else to tell you…"
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