“How was the funeral?” I asked, trying to stop thinking about the richness of the color of his skin, the way it glistened with sweat, so smooth I wanted to touch it.
“Sad. My aunt was there, and no one bothered her. I guess they figured they’d done enough, killin’ her husband and runnin’ her out of town. And now she’s gone.”
Reality appeared in the form of Byron Bingham’s bloated face in my mind. I shivered, the former heat of attraction lost in reality. “Where will she live?”
He shrugged. “What does it matter? She’s lived here for thirty years, now she doesn’t.” He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw pulsated. “I think she went to Mississippi with my other relatives.”
“Then at least she won’t be alone.” I had the urge to soothe him. If he were one of the guys I had known during school I’d probably have put my arm around him and told him it would all be okay, but there was an invisible line between us, and I was afraid to cross it.
He turned to face me, the sound of the water trickling fell away, his breathing filling each pulse of my heart. I was unable to resist the urge to be closer, if only by emotional pull. I turned my shoulders toward him and lifted my gaze. Our eyes held.
“True,” he said, wringing his hands.
I watched his lips move, heard his words, but my mind was working what it might feel like to kiss him, what it might taste like. I stumbled over my words, finally asking, “And Albert? How is he?” A tingling sensation traveled up my arms again. I inched away from him, hoping to slow my racing heart.
“He’s hurtin’, but good. Scared. You know.” He sighed, a long, loud sigh, his eyes looking at me, my own desires reflecting back. He pushed up from the stump, turning his back to me like he, too, was fighting an urge more powerful than he could manage. “Life in Forrest Town. It is what it is.”
“So when you’re done, with the war, I mean, where will you go?” I spoke just above a whisper, afraid of the answer. “Will you come back here?”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was more of something that I read to mean that he wasn’t stupid enough to come back, no matter what he might be leaving behind. “Not if I can help it. My friend Arthur invited me to New York, said he could get me a good job there. A real job, not in the fields or maintenance work, like what I could get here.”
He held his hand out to help me off the stump. I took his hand and stood, holding my breath, not knowing if I should let go or hold on. I wanted to hold on. He withdrew his hand, and I swear his eyes lingered on mine for a second. Then again, my heart was beating so hard I might have just imagined it.
We walked side by side along the bank of the creek. Each step measured, each breath calculated, so I could feel the energy that rode between us like an invisible tie.
“How’s your mama doin’. I can’t imagine what she’s goin’ through. My mama would be a mess.”
“She’s thinkin’ that she’s thankful that your mother is kind, even if your father is—” He wiped his forehead with his arm and sighed. “Even if your father is just like everyone else.”
“You know about that? About my mama?”
He put his hands on his hips and said, “Sure I know. I’m real thankful, too. Your mama is a really good person.”
Fear suddenly gripped my chest. “Oh no, who else knows?”
“No one who’s gonna say anything.”
I crossed my arms and paced, my skirt swished in the silence. “No one can know about my mama,” I said. “I can’t even think about what could happen to her.” My voice rose, my words tumbled out fast and harsh. “You don’t understand. If Daddy finds out, he’ll—”
He put his hands gently on my upper arms. Even through my sweater my skin warmed beneath his palms. He looked into my eyes and spoke just above a whisper. “Hey, hey. Did you forget who you’re talkin’ to? I do understand. If anyone does, I do. My brother, Mama, my aunt. We all do.”
I don’t know why I did what I did next. He didn’t pull me forward. He didn’t push me away. My body relaxed into him and it felt like the most natural motion in the world. I leaned into his chest, my head resting on his sweat-damp shirt. He smelled of hay and perspiration. His chest trembled beneath my cheek, his hands moved slowly around me, coming to rest, hot and sure, on my lower back. I closed my eyes, feeling his heart pound against my cheek. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. The warmth of his body and the tenderness of his touch were so different than when Jimmy Lee held me. With Jimmy Lee I was an afterthought, an imposition in his precious day, or a means to a climactic end. Jackson welcomed me, drank me in. He didn’t rush my need for comfort or push me away. He didn’t throw me down and push into me. He simply held me, as if I belonged right where I was.
Chapter Eight
Friday afternoon, Maggie pushed through the front door wearing clothes I didn’t recognize, and an expression to match. There was tension in her smile, and her normally laughing eyes were different, more serious. I rushed into her arms, and she swung me around.
“Pixie! Oh, how I missed you.” She set me down, held my shoulders, and pushed away from me, surveying me from head to toe. “Girl, you are one pretty, little thing! Gosh, look at you, all grown up!” She pushed my blond waves from my shoulder and cupped my cheek. “When you were little, one bat of those blue eyes used to get you everything you wanted from Daddy. I bet now they worry him somethin’ fierce. Boys must look at you everywhere you go.”
My cheeks burned. “I missed you.”
She grabbed my hand and touched my engagement ring. She squeezed my hand and said, “You’re sure about this?”
“Waddaya mean?” I asked, wondering if I was wearing the changes in my feelings on my sleeve. Could she see the difference in me as clearly as I could feel it?
“I haven’t seen you since you got engaged. Someone needs to look out for my little sister.” She squinted. “So, are you sure?”
I’d been meeting Jackson down by the creek for several days, and though we had never embraced again, I was fully aware of my growing attraction toward his gentle nature and his knowledge of the world, which was so much bigger than mine. I found myself sitting on the stairs listening to the news on the radio in the evenings. I wanted to answer Maggie with the truth: Not really. He’s different than he was, and my heart is pullin’ me toward someone else. Instead, aware of our parents watching us, I said, “Yeah, and Daddy says he has a promisin’ future.”
“Of course he does,” Maggie feigned a smile in his direction.
“Enough of this. Come over here and give me a hug.” Mama’s cheeks were plumped up, pink with happiness. She opened her arms wide, and Maggie sank into them. They could have been sisters. I wished I had the beauty that they possessed. I wasn’t ugly, but they had a certain something that shined through dirt, worry, and fatigue. One day, I hoped. One day, I’d find that beauty in myself.
“Pants?” Jake smirked.
“They’re all the rage in New York, little brother.” Maggie twirled in a circle, hands by her head. She looked down at her slim figure in cotton pants that tapered to the knee then flared at the bottom. “It’s a whole different world out there, Jakey-poo.”
Pants? Jakey-poo? It was like listening to Maggie, only bigger—more outspoken than before—and she had an air of not caring what we thought. My eyes shot to Daddy, whose arms were crossed, his right hand rubbing his chin. I had a feeling that he was trying to figure her out just as I was. I was definitely intrigued.
Mama had baked a meatloaf, fresh biscuits, and green beans. Maggie’s favorite.
“Tell me about New York.” I was excited to hear about the big city. She was so far away and all I could think about was how scared I’d be, moving away from Mama and Daddy and starting a life without knowing they were right around the corner.
Maggie’s eyes lit up. “It’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. There are a million people, and I swear the noise never stops.” Maggie poked at the vegetables. She had yet to take a bite.
>
“Do you have many friends?” I asked. Sometimes I wondered if it was easier to make new friends than to try and reignite friendships with those I’d left behind because of dating someone older. I wasn’t even sure I’d want to rekindle those relationships, given how much I’d changed. Reinventing yourself to be seen as the person you wanted to be, rather than the person everyone had known since the day you were born, sounded exciting to me—and terribly scary.
“Does she ever not?” Jake smirked. My parents gave him a not now look. “What? Well, doesn’t she?”
“That’s enough, Jake,” Daddy said. “Maggie, tell us about your classes. Are you learnin’ a lot?”
She nodded, drawing her eyebrows together, as if she were thinking. She looked at Jake and said, “I have lots of friends. Everyone is real nice.”
“That’s good, honey,” Mama said, and patted Maggie’s arm.
Maggie tilted her eyes toward Mama and smiled.
“How about your classes, Maggie?”
Maggie set her fork down. She looked at Daddy, pulled her shoulders back, and said, “They’re alright, Daddy.” Her words were flat. I detected a lie.
Tension thickened in the room.
“Grades? Are you doin’ okay?” he asked, staring into her eyes.
She held his gaze. “Yes, I’m doin’ fine.” Maggie picked up her fork again, dropping her eyes to her plate. I watched her draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly through her full lips. “There’s so much more to New York than school and grades, and there’s so much more to life, Daddy.”
The room grew silent. I watched Daddy’s face tighten. I looked at Maggie, flabbergasted. What was she doing? I knew our parents had saved every penny to send Maggie to New York, and Daddy had fought sending her “into the big city” with ferocity. Maggie had been too much for him. She knew when to turn on the charm, “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll make you proud,” and when to push, “Come on, Daddy, what’s wrong with a woman gettin’ an education?” In the end, I think Daddy got tired of fighting and let her go.
My father cleared his throat. “Meanin’?” he asked.
“Meanin’—” Maggie’s eyes danced around the room, much to my chagrin, they settled on me. I loved Maggie but I hated being pitted between her and Daddy, and somehow, things always ended up that way. I played with my fork, holding her stare. The air electrified between us. I knew nothing good was about to happen. Maggie’s lips spread into a wide grin. “There’s so much goin’ on out there. Music, clothin’,” she grasped the edge of the table with both hands, her voice rising in excitement. “People. The people are talkin’, livin’ like they love life, sharin’ time, information.” She turned to face our father, shaking her head. “This town, Daddy,” she laughed under her breath. “It’s…it’s way behind the times—”
“That’s enough Maggie,” he interrupted her.
Maggie stood up, then walked around the table and stood behind my chair, grabbing my shoulders with both hands. Her grip was strong, thrilling. “Things are happenin’, Pix, big things. Things you could never imagine.”
“Like you losin’ your mind?” Jake laughed.
“Margaret Lynn, sit back down.” My father’s voice was calm, steady, forceful. Mama sat in silence, the edges of her lips slightly raised, her pride-filled eyes on Maggie, her napkin clenched in her hand. I shook in my seat, afraid of what Daddy might say. I had no idea what Maggie meant by the things she said, but I wanted to know so badly that I had to clench my teeth to remain silent.
Maggie walked around the table, swinging her hands dramatically from side to side, her chin tilted upward. “There’s a whole world out there. I know you’ve heard about it,” she lowered her chin and locked eyes with our father. “On the radio?”
“I said that’s enough Margaret.” If fumes could come from a person’s ears, the dining room would have been filled with smoke.
“Civil rights,” she said, as if she were answering her own question
Civil rights? Civil rights was not a topic discussed in the Tillman household. We knew what we heard on the radio in those moments before Daddy turned it off. Daddy was quick to shoot down our questions. Things are just fine ‘round here. We don’t need no trouble brought on by some trouble-makin’ coloreds. When somethin’s not broke, why fix it? I knew there were marches and speeches going on in other places, and Jake and I knew better than to ask questions or bring up what we’d heard in school or picked up by scanning the newspapers. Maggie was another story. She reveled in challenging Daddy.
Maggie leaned against her chair, watching Daddy with a dare in her eyes. Tension thickened in the small room. Silence ensued, until finally Maggie looked like she might burst.
“The civil rights movement is on, Daddy, and—” She drew out the word “on” like it was magnified.
“That’s it, Margaret Lynn. I’ll have no more of this disrespect.” My father threw his napkin on the table and stood up.
“You can’t shelter them forever, Daddy,” Maggie taunted him.
I cringed.
“There’s a whole world out there, and they should know about it. They should live it, Daddy.”
My father grabbed Maggie by the arm and dragged her outside. We remained at the table. Mama cleared her throat, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and lowered her eyes. A piece of me wished she’d stand up for Maggie, but I knew if there was one thing Daddy didn’t stand for it was disrespect, and if Mama had spoken up, Lord only knew what argument might follow. I’d been watching Mama carefully since seeing her with Albert’s mother, and I’d decided that she picked her battles. She may have been one of the smartest women I knew, and at that moment, while Daddy yelled at Maggie out on the front porch, and Maggie yelled back, I wished she’d taught Maggie that same tact. I don’t think I could have left the table if I wanted to. No one spoke to Daddy that way. Daddy wasn’t a hitting man, but the threat of losing Daddy’s favor was enough to usually keep my words in check. Being in Daddy’s favor was like having the sun shine down on you, radiating with warmth and smothered in love. Mama and Jake never sassed him, either. Mama was just raised that way, and I think Jake took his cue like I did, from whatever lay behind Daddy’s eyes when he was angry—a silent threat that hung in the air, and though I was never quite sure what was at the end of that threat, I was afraid for Maggie.
That evening, as Daddy listened to the news on the radio and Mama read on the couch, Maggie and I remained in our room. Maggie paced, her arms crossed, her face tight.
“As much as I love comin’ home to see you, Pix, I hate comin’ here because of how backwards this town is.” She didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Daddy wants to keep you here.” She grabbed my left hand. “Marry you off.” She pushed my hand into my lap and paced again. “It’s just…there’s so much—”
“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, sis? Daddy’s gonna come up here and whoop your tail.” Jake stood in the doorframe, arms crossed.
Maggie spun around. “My lesson? Is that what you think this is about Jake? You’re just as bad as Daddy. Do you think I don’t know what you do out there?” Her hand shot out toward the window.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“Huh? Do you? You think you’re some groovy guy because you follow the other thugs in this town, beatin’ up coloreds and laughin’ while you walk away.”
Jake came away from the doorframe and stood tall, squinting at Maggie, his jaw muscles working overtime.
“It’s not right, Jake. And look,” she pointed at me.
I opened my eyes wide. Me? As much as I loved Maggie, I didn’t want Daddy yelling at me like that. Please leave me out of this.
“Look at her, think of her,” Maggie continued. “Do you really want her to have a life like,” she paused, and then continued just above a whisper, “like Mama? Caterin’ to some man her whole life? Alison is smarter than that. She’s got her whole life ahead of her.”
“She’s not that smart.” His eyes never left Maggie’s.
As much as his comment hurt, I knew Jake was aching inside by Maggie’s comment, since Daddy had kept him home. I swallowed my own feelings in hopes of the whole hurtful conversation blowing over.
“I know you hate me because they sent me to school, Jake, but the truth is, they didn’t send me over you. They sent me to get rid of me. I’m nothin’ but a pain to Daddy. You,” she rubbed her forehead, “you’re his meal ticket when he’s old and can no longer run the farm. You’re plenty smart enough to go to school outside of this crappy place, but he’ll never let you go.”
Jake’s eyes changed from angry to interested in the space of a second. Maggie sat down on her bed, and covered her face. I thought she was crying, until she lifted her face from her hands and I saw her reddened cheeks and a fierce look in her eye.
“I have to get out of here.” She stood up and began throwing her clothes into her suitcase.
“What? Why? You can’t leave,” Jake said.
I grabbed her arm, alarm bells going off in my head. I needed her. “Maggie, please don’t go. You just got here. Just stay, please.” I have no one to confide in.
She shook me off and backed onto my bed, then pulled me down beside her. Jake sat down on Maggie’s bed, breathing hard, like he was ready to jump up and stop her if she tried to leave.
“Pixie, I know you don’t get this, and I know you are probably scared to leave this place, but trust me, please.” Her eyes bore into my heart. “You’re too young to get married. This isn’t Mama’s generation. You can get an education, have a life other than this, more than this.”
I looked from her to Jake. Deep creases ran across Jake’s forehead. He fidgeted with his hands in his lap. I looked back at Maggie, not sure what I felt, what I should say. So, instead, I remained quiet. Maggie filled the silence.
“Look at me,” she pleaded. “In New York, coloreds and whites talk, on the streets, in the shops. It’s not like here. Women are not only homemakers or garment workers, they’re secretaries and they work in the stores. They go out and dance. They don’t sit around on some dirty, old farm waitin’ for the next rainstorm to create chaos in their lives, or walk down the aisle at seventeen.”
Have No Shame Page 29