Have No Shame

by Melissa Foster

  “Sure, sugar, you go. You don’t work again ‘til Monday, so you rest up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Please don’t be there. Please don’t be there. I didn’t see anything along the way to the river—literally. I didn’t notice if there were cars goin’ down the street or people millin’ about in town. I had tunnel vision, clouded by the image of Mr. Bingham, my nerves rememberin’ the fear that consumed me when I found him. I shook and trembled as I made my way through the woods, passin’ trees and steppin’ over logs as if on autopilot. Please don’t be there.

  I don’t know what made me think that I’d find Mr. Green in that same location, or why I thought I’d find him at all, but somethin’ told me I would. I pushed through the last bush and into the clearin’. Tears burned my eyes and I squeezed them away. Please don’t be here. Scenarios raced through my mind. What if I found him? Who would I tell? Would we all be next, everyone who was at the meetin’?

  The river flowed steady and fast from the recent rains. I climbed over the rocks to the edge, flashes of memory comin’ at me hard and fast. I looked down river, then up. A tangle of somethin’ massive in the branches of a tree that sprouted from the water’s edge sent a stab of fear through me. Please don’t be him. I moved cautiously toward it. Please don’t be him. Twigs and grass covered a mound of somethin’ brown. I stopped dead in my tracks. What was I doin’? I can’t do this again. I can’t take it. I turned toward the woods, but knew I had to continue on. Adrenaline pushed me forward, fear made each step like walkin’ through quicksand. I crouched by the water’s edge, prayin’ it wasn’t him. I poked at the mass of muck and twigs. The mass didn’t budge. I used the stick to clear away a spot in the center of the mass, revealin’ brown fur. I dropped to my knees, coverin’ my face with my hands, and let the tears fall. I glanced back up at the mass, and it was then, through my blurry eyes, that I saw the long, thick neck craned backward, the horse’s head positioned at a painful angle, buried deep under the water.

  I walked down river, away from town, partially to get closer to where the woods met my apartment, and partially to calm my revved up nerves. I wished Jackson was there. What I needed more than anything was someone to hold me and tell me everything was gonna be okay, because as it stood, I couldn’t see anything bein’ okay any time soon.

  Vultures circled overhead, givin’ the white sky and chilly air an ominous weight. I stopped at the edge of the woods, listenin’ to the flow of the river and the birds cawin’ overhead. I placed my hand on my expandin’ belly and closed my eyes, tryin’ to envision what my life would be like once my baby came. Darkness prevailed. I saw my lonely apartment, and Jimmy Lee’s drunken comments and disheartenin’ absence. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I put my other hand on my belly and envisioned what my life might’ve been like if I had gone to New York with Jackson—if the baby within me had been his. The glow of his face filled me with warmth and comfort, his soft and supportive eyes danced with light, a smile graced his plump lips. The smell of his sweat came back to me, the feel of his hands on my body gave me goose bumps. Beneath my fingers, my baby moved, bringin’ with it renewed thoughts of security. I wanted my baby to have what I had growin’ up—two parents who loved each other, safe goodnight kisses, and a sense that the world was safe. I wanted that more than I wanted to breathe fresh air. I opened my eyes, reality all around me in the place I stood, the reason why I was there. I had to decide once and for all, before it was too late. Was I stayin’ with Jimmy Lee, as Mama said, to help with integration efforts, for the greater good of the community, and for all babies who would come forth after that time, or could I close my eyes and walk away, without a care for what happened outside my own thin walls?

  I pondered that thought as I navigated my way through the woods, toward home.

  Street noises filtered in through the trees as I neared the apartments. A blood-curdlin’ scream came from somewhere off in the distance. I stopped. Listened. More screamin’. Footsteps rushin’ through the brush. All at once people were runnin’ into the woods, hollerin’ in the direction of the outcry. I followed the panicked trail toward the screams.

  A deep voice hushed the screamin’ woman and broke through the panic. “Get back. Everyone, get back.”

  I peered past the group of people and followed their craned necks up toward the umbrella of trees. Mr. Green’s limp body hung from a rope like a deer bleedin’ out. I turned away, grabbin’ a nearby tree for support. Why did this have to happen? Fear pierced my thoughts—was it because of our meetin’? Did someone know? I racked my brain tryin’ to remember if Mr. Green was at the meetin’, and came up empty. Jimmy Lee had beat up his son. A shudder ran through me as comprehension of what was sure to be the truth set in.

  A young mother turned away, hurryin’ out of the woods with her child in her arms. Two white men turned and walked away at a calm, even pace, one mutterin’, “Got what he deserved. ”

  Every muscle in my body stiffened. I willed myself not to run up to those men and smack them across their pompous cheeks. Enough was enough.

  A colored man scurried up the tree and cut the rope, droppin’ Mr. Green’s limp body into the arms of three colored men waitin’ below.

  “There’s a note,” one of the men said. He pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of Mr. Green’s flannel shirt. His dark eyes scanned the note, and then he dropped his hand to his side without utterin’ a word. The man standin’ next to him took the note from his hand.

  “It’s a warnin’. It says, ‘Back off or you’re next.’”

  “Back off what?” a colored woman asked.

  Back off? Of the charges to Jimmy Lee? Of the boycott? I turned and ran home as fast as my pregnant body would carry me. Mr. Green’s lifeless body solidified my decision. There was only one way that I could ever move forward with my life without livin’ in regret’s unforgivin’ shadow.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I flew in the apartment door, grabbed the phone from the table, and dialed Maggie’s number. Her phone rang and rang. I hung up and tried to reach Mama. There was no answer. I walked in circles, wishin’ I could go to the jail and talk to Jimmy Lee. His uncle said he’d take care of it. I lowered myself to the couch. He’d take care of it. Mr. Carlisle. Of course.

  “The same way you took care of Mr. Bingham for your brother?” I stomped across the floor. The hell with this.

  I yanked open the bedroom closet door. The shoebox, where I used to keep Maggie’s letters, sat empty on the top shelf. I dug the bag of summer clothes out from the back and emptied it onto the bed. I found the pair of dark blue shorts and unzipped the tiny pocket, then withdrew the small piece of paper, and walked back to the phone. Starin’ at the receiver, I gathered my courage, rememberin’ the mornin’ after I’d returned home from New York. After Jimmy Lee had gone to work I’d hidden Jackson’s phone number in the closet. I couldn’t bear throwin’ it away, and Jackson had made me promise to use it if I was ever in trouble. I reached for the receiver, and unclenched my shakin’ hand. The slip of paper fluttered down onto the bed. I dialed Jackson’s number, watchin’ the rotary move painstakin’ly slowly back to zero with each pull of a number.

  “Hello?”

  My voice stalled in my throat. What was I doin’?

  “Hello?” he said, again.

  “It’s…it’s me,” I said softly.

  He was silent for a beat. “Alison?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Alison, what’s wrong? We said we wouldn’t take the chance of callin’. Are you alright?”

  “They killed another man. Jimmy Lee got arrested for beatin’ up Thomas Green and now Mr. Green’s been hung.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. I held the receiver so tight my knuckles hurt. “There was a note in his pocket that said somethin’ like, ‘Back off or you’re next.’ And his uncle, Billy, he told me not to go to the jailhouse.” I spoke so fast I could barely breathe. “He said he’d take care of it, but Jimmy Lee didn’t come hom
e, so I guess he’s still in jail, and I have no idea what else Mr. Carlisle might have meant. I thought he meant he’d get a lawyer or somethin’. Oh, God, Jackson, what should I do?” I gasped a quick breath. “I think Jimmy Lee had him killed.”

  “Okay, okay. Damn it. But you’re alright? Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m at my apartment.”

  “Maggie and I are leavin’ in an hour to go to South Carolina. Damn it. Can you call Mr. Kane? Let him know what’s goin’ on? Alison, how can you be sure this isn’t because they caught wind of the boycott?”

  “I can’t, but I’ve wracked my brain and I don’t remember Mr. Green bein’ at the meetin’. I’ll call Mr. Kane. He’ll know if he was there. He knows everyone who attends.”

  “Can you go stay at your mother’s?” Jackson asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Alison, I don’t want you to be alone. If there’s any chance that Jimmy Lee knows what we’re up to, you’ll be in danger.”

  He was right. “Okay, I’ll stay at my parents’. I wish you were here.” I wished so hard, my stomach ached.

  “Me too, but we couldn’t be together anyway, so what good would it do?”

  “Why do you have to be so practical?” Wishin’ that, just for once since leavin’ home, someone would make everything in my life okay.

  “Because I want to stay alive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Life got you a little freaked out, sis?” Jake asked when he came to pick me up in Daddy’s truck.

  “A little.”

  “Want me to take you to see Jimmy Lee?”

  It hadn’t dawned on me that goin’ to see him was an option. I was still the obedient, little girl Daddy raised. I didn’t really want to see Jimmy Lee, but part of me thought it was my wifely duty to act as if I cared, and another part of me wanted to try and figure out what was goin’ on in his head.

  “You’d do that?”

  Jake drove toward the jailhouse and handed me a paper he’d had tucked under his leg.

  I unfolded the paper and was surprised to find an application to Mississippi State. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Mama got it for me.”

  “No, she did not.”

  Jake grinned. “Daddy doesn’t know. She said it wouldn’t be easy to get in, and I’d have to work to afford it, but she said they had great art courses.”

  “Jake, what will Daddy say? You can’t leave him.” We can’t all leave him.

  “I probably won’t even get in, but Mama says I have to try. I don’t know what’s come over her, but she’s been different since you left.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, just different. She’s all…like, tellin’ me to follow my dreams, and she takes pies she bakes outside to the field hands and stuff.” Jake laughed, then said, “You shoulda seen Daddy’s face the first time she took them a snack. He shot her a look, and she just went on like she didn’t see it.”

  I couldn’t believe Mama was takin’ such blatant strides. I wondered what other changes I might find when I got back to the farm.

  The jail smelled like old leather and summer sweat. I wrapped my arms around myself as I sat and waited to be taken back to see Jimmy Lee.

  Jake leaned in close beside me. “You okay?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. What would I say to Jimmy Lee? What if his uncle came in and saw me? I shuffled my feet and clasped my hands together.

  “Would you really go to that school?”

  Jake shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I want to.”

  My world was changin’, and I was either gonna change right along with it, or remain in an unhappy marriage and raise my child with a racist husband.

  “Mrs. Carlisle?” A bald, overweight officer spoke with a stern voice as he held the door open. His eyes dropped to my pregnant belly.

  “A woman in your condition shouldn’t have ta worry yourself none. None of us want your husband in here. He was just cleanin’ house.”

  Cleanin’ house? Was the entire police department corrupt?

  “He’ll be out of here soon enough.” He turned and winked.

  The door closed with a clank behind us as we made our way down the narrow, gray hallway. At the end of the hall, we turned right and the officer stopped in front of a solid door with a small glass window. He opened the door and stepped aside.

  Inside, Jimmy Lee sat at a metal table. He wasn’t wearin’ handcuffs, as I’d imagined. He didn’t look especially tired or even unhappy. He stood and opened his arms.

  “Alison,” he said, and pulled me close.

  “You’re okay?” Completely taken aback by his warmth, I gently pushed away.

  “Sheesh, yeah, I’m fine. Piece of cake.”

  The door closed, leavin’ us alone in the stark room.

  Jimmy Lee sat down and I lowered myself into the cold, metal chair across from him.

  “Your uncle told me not to come, otherwise, I woulda been by yesterday.”

  “That’s okay. It won’t matter. There won’t be a case by tonight,” he said smugly.

  “Whaddaya mean?”

  “We took care of things. I don’t think the Green’s will be botherin’ us anymore.”

  The room began to spin. Took care of things. I didn’t want to believe it. I grasped for some other explanation. “They’re droppin’ the charges?”

  “In a way.”

  I held my purse in both hands to keep them from shakin’. “In what way? Either they’re droppin’ the charges or they’re not.” Tell me you didn’t have him killed. Please, lie to me if you have to, just please tell me.

  “Oh, they’ll drop the charges all right. Stupid niggers.”

  The word made my skin crawl. “Do you have to do that?”

  “What?” He held his palm up toward the ceilin’, as if he had no idea what I was referrin’ to.

  “That—callin’ ‘em stupid.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I knew I was travelin’ down a dangerous path. My life was speedin’ out of control, like a train wreck waitin’ to happen. My pulse raced, my hands worked at frayin’ the edges of my purse, and I wanted to jump up and run from the room—heck, I wanted to run from Arkansas.

  “They are stupid,” his voice escalated as he rose from the chair. “Dumb niggers think they can keep me down? No way would Daddy or Uncle Billy let that happen.”

  Your father? Your uncle? How long can you rely on them to take care of you? Had I relied on Daddy takin’ care of me for too long? On some level, was I still relyin’ on the security of him too much? I forced my emotions inside, and asked when he’d be comin’ home.

  “I’ll be out by midnight.”

  “Midnight?”

  “They’re settin’ bail tomorrow, but I think somethin’ is gonna change that plan.”

  Mr. Green’s dead body.

  “I’m stayin’ at Mama’s tonight. I don’t really wanna be alone.”

  Jimmy Lee nodded. “Okay. I’ll get you when I’m out.”

  “Not at midnight.”

  “In the mornin’, then.”

  “Yeah, mornin’. Okay.” I let Jimmy Lee take my hand in his. My stomach twisted and turned. My husband was responsible for a man’s death, and I had to keep my mouth shut. My Daddy’s voice haunted me—Know your place—but the image of Mama sneakin’ up to the back door of the furniture store rivaled that thought.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jimmy Lee didn’t come to collect me the next mornin’, and my phone calls home went unanswered.

  “Let the man be. He’ll come when he can,” Daddy said dismissively. “He’s in a mess of trouble. He might be meetin’ with lawyers or somethin’.”

  “I guess, but he coulda called,” I said.

  My father sat at the head of the kitchen table eatin’ his eggs as quickly as he could. “Are you alright, Pix? You don’t look very well.”

  “I’m just tired. My husband is in jail, Daddy, and Mr. Green is dead.” I watched his e
yes narrow. “Aren’t you affected at all by Mr. Green? I mean, he was hung from a tree, Daddy. I saw him. It was awful.” I pushed my plate away.

  He went to work on his biscuit. “It’s not my business,” he said between bites. “And it ain’t yours, either.”

  Mama walked behind my chair and set a glass of orange juice in front of me, pattin’ my shoulder, remindin’ me to go easy. My entire life was spent goin’ easy. No wonder Maggie blew up.

  “My husband beat that kid, of course it’s my business.” I set my eyes on Daddy, ignorin’ the heat from Mama’s stare.

  He set down his fork and looked up at Mama, but spoke directly to me. “Your husband did whatever he felt he had to do. Know your place, Alison. Don’t cause undue trouble. There’s enough of that goin’ ‘round right now.”

  I stood and paced, then threw my napkin on the table. “Right now, Daddy, I’m so sick of knowin’ my place that I could puke.” I stormed out of the house and sat on the front porch.

  Five minutes later, Mama joined me.

  “Mr. Kane called. The Blue Bonnet meetin’ is scheduled for tonight instead of Wednesday.”

  A silent message passed between us; Mr. Green’s death had sent up alarms.

  Twice as many people showed up that night as had the previous week. Mr. Kane explained that supporters from other towns were already arrivin’, with others on their way. Many had already arrived in neighborin’ towns. The boycott had been rescheduled. We had three days to prepare.

  Mr. Kane leaned on his shotgun and announced with a low, serious tone, “Now, we’re suggestin’ that women and children stay inside their homes durin’ this protest. We don’t know what we’ll come up against, but if Mr. Green is any indication, it may be very dangerous.”

  “How many is comin’ from other towns?” A short colored man asked. The crowd murmured in agreement with his question.