Have No Shame

by Melissa Foster

  “Was there an order?” Jean asked from behind me.

  I slipped my hand into the pocket of my uniform. “Uh, no, she was mistaken. Her husband didn’t order anything today, I guess.” I kept my back to Jean, worried my eyes might reveal my lie.

  As Jean’s footsteps retreated, I hightailed it into the bathroom and locked the door. The sealed envelope was small and stained. I ran my fingernail along the underside of the flap and withdrew the single-paged letter. I brought the paper to my nose and inhaled, hoping for a scent of Jackson. There was none.

  Dear Alison,

  I know you’re scared, afraid you’ll be caught writing to me, or that Mama will be caught giving you the letters. Have faith. Be strong. I will wait as long as I have to, until your trying can become your promise.

  Love, Jackson

  Jean jiggled the doorknob. “Alison? I gotta go, hun.”

  “I’ll be right out.” I looked around the tiny bathroom and saw no place to hide the letter. Afraid of being caught with it, I tore it into tiny pieces, wrapped it in toilet paper, and flushed it down the toilet.

  For days I’d wished I’d kept the letter, if only to see the easy slant of his handwriting or to be sure I remembered each word correctly, but getting caught weighed heavily on my mind. I watched the face of every person who came into the diner, and watched Jean for an inkling of her knowing the truth.

  Main Street was empty as I walked toward my apartment. I had no idea if I could safely send letters to Jackson, but it didn’t matter. I was high on the fact that he hadn’t forgotten about me or moved on, or even hated me for what I’d done before.

  Mama was expecting us for dinner at five thirty, and Jackson’s letter had filled me with purpose, strengthening me over the days since receiving it. I felt as if I might finally be becoming a woman rather than a little girl going home to see Mama and Daddy.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Six o’clock came and went, with no sign of Jimmy Lee. I phoned Mama to let her know we’d be late, and she said she’d hold dinner for us. Each passing minute fueled my annoyance. Between Jimmy Lee’s drinking and his disregard for me, I'd wondered if he’d show up sober for the sake of my parents. I hadn’t thought he would not show up at all.

  I dialed the furniture store’s phone number and asked Mr. Kelly if I could speak with Jimmy Lee.

  “Oh,” he said with surprise. “Hold on just a moment, please.”

  Silence stretched long and painful. Just when I thought he’d forgotten about me, Mr. Kelly came back to the phone. “Alison, did you speak to Mr. Carlisle the last time you came in?”

  “No.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, and failed miserably.

  “I think you need to speak with your husband about his whereabouts.”

  What did he think I was trying to do? “Yes, thank you. Is he there?”

  “No, he’s not.” He paused, then hissed into the phone, “Perhaps you should try The Waterin’ Hole.”

  The line went dead. The Waterin’ Hole? I stared at the telephone, as if it held the answers of my husband’s whereabouts. The Watering Hole was the nastiest bar around. Located at the edge of town, it was rumored to be where bored husbands went to fill their sexual needs with some of the dirtiest, lowest women in Forrest Town. It was too far to walk at that time of night, but even if it was closer, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go traipsing after my husband like the pathetic wife, even if I was starting to feel that way. No, I couldn’t believe it. There was no way Jimmy Lee would lower himself to that. He wasn’t bored. I was home all the time, with dinner ready, and a clean house. I wasn’t sure what made me feel sicker—that I was always home waiting for him or that he might actually be with another woman.

  I dialed my parent’s’ number and told Mama we would not make it for dinner after all. I feigned fatigue and said Jimmy Lee was working late. The more I thought about where he might be, the easier it became to believe him that he’d been spending time with Corky. They both like to drink and chase coloreds. That thought didn’t sit any better in me than him being with some nasty other woman.

  “Do you want me to come by with some dinner for you?” Mama asked.

  “No, I’m just gonna go to bed.”

  “Are we still bakin’ tomorrow?”

  Damn, I’d forgotten. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there ‘round noon.”

  That night, I penned my first letter to Jackson. I had no idea if he would receive it or not, and I knew if Jimmy Lee found out, we’d both be dead. But with hurt coursing through my veins, and nowhere else to point my anger, I let it fuel my writing.

  Dear Jackson,

  I’m changing. I can feel it in everything I do. When I serve meals at the diner I can barely look into the eyes of the men who I know have made things hard for the people of Division Street. When I inhale, there’s a charge of hope in the air that I’m sure only I can feel, and that pulls me forward and takes me to the next task at hand. I want things to be different for my baby—I want things to be different for me, and yet, I know how selfish that sounds, but as much as integration will change things for coloreds, it carries over into a freedom that impacts everything in life for all of us, and I look forward to that change.

  I’m seeing Daddy this weekend, and I pray I’ll be strong enough to start being myself, instead of his little girl. I’m not sure if you can understand that, but I don’t know how else to say it.

  Stay safe.

  Love always, Alison

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The faintest outline of dark circles shadowed Mama’s eyes as she rolled the crust for the pecan pie.

  “Mama?” I asked.

  She stopped rolling, wiped her brow with her forearm, and lifted her eyebrows in answer.

  “Can I talk to you about somethin’?”

  Mama set down the roller and pulled out two chairs from the kitchen table. I sat down, fidgeting with a dishtowel. My father’s tractor roared as it neared the house. Jake sauntered into the kitchen.

  “Alison, wow, you’re as big as a house,” he said, and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said, wishing he hadn’t come in so I could talk privately with Mama.

  “Hey, what do you think of this?” Jake placed a hand-drawn picture of our farm on the table, every detail precise, from the cracks in our front porch to the perfect dips and mounds of plantings in the fields. He’d drawn the entire picture with a pencil, shading each crevice to the nth degree.

  I picked up the paper and looked closer. “Jake, this is amazin’.”

  Mama sat back with a smile across her lips. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “More than good. Jake, how did you learn to do this?”

  He shrugged. “Mama showed me a few things.”

  “Mama, really?”

  Pride filled Mama’s eyes. “He’s a natural. I just showed him a thing or two, tweakin’, you know. He’s really gifted.”

  “Have you shown Daddy?” I asked.

  I caught a wave of discomfort pass between them. Jake reached for the picture as the noise of the tractor quieted. Jake folded his drawing and shoved it in his back pocket as the screen door creaked open.

  My father crossed the kitchen and lifted me to my feet, then bent down and hugged me close. “I’ve missed you. You look radiant. How’s my grandchild?”

  I blushed. “Fine, Daddy.”

  “You look just as beautiful as your mother did when she was pregnant with you.”

  Mama pushed her hair behind her ear, revealing a flirty grin, then went back to work on the pie crust.

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He smacked Jake on the back. “About ready to go into town?”

  Jake’s mouth tightened.

  “Daddy, have you seen—”

  “Alison, come help me,” Mama interrupted.

  “Uh, okay,” I said, confused.

  Jake gave me a harsh look. “C’mon, Daddy, let’s go.”

  “Wait. I
gotta get a drink for the crew.” My father grabbed a , plastic pitcher from the cabinet and ran the water in the sink.

  “I’ve got ice water ready for them in the fridge,” I said.

  “This’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Daddy, why don’t you give ‘em the cold water? They’d probably appreciate it.” I spoke before thinking, and Daddy turned and looked at me like I’d spoken another language all together. “I mean, it’s not that cool out, and they’ve probably been workin’ for hours and all.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry ‘bout the farmhands, and you worry ‘bout the pies, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. Sorry.”

  Mama shook her head. If I hadn’t been looking to her for support, I might have missed it. I mixed the sugar and butter in a large bowl, annoyance tightening my nerves until I had to speak.

  “Daddy, why don’t I take the water out? I don’t mind gettin’ the water with ice.”

  “Alison Jean,” Daddy said, leaving no room for negotiation.

  I stirred the butter until it was creamy, faster, harder, pouring my energy into it as I gathered the courage to take a stance. I took a deep breath and turned to face Daddy, holding onto the back of a chair for support. “Daddy, they deserve ice water. It’s just ice. It’s not like you’re cookin’ ‘em dinner.”

  Mama set her hand on my shoulder, pressing gently.

  My father narrowed his eyes. I thought of Maggie, and Jackson, and every person in the Panther meeting, and I held his stare, white knuckles wrapped around the edge of the chair.

  “What’s this about, Alison?”

  “About? Nothin’, Daddy, it’s just,” I dropped my eyes. Be strong. I wrapped my arm around my middle. “They’re people, Daddy, and now that I’m havin’ a baby, I’d hate to think of someone not givin’ my child a drink of cold water when he or she needed it. It just seems…unnecessary.”

  Mama squeezed my shoulder. “Honey, why we’d better get this pie ready, or we won’t have any for dinner.”

  My father walked out of the kitchen with the pitcher of tepid water and a frown on his unshaven cheeks.

  “Sheesh, sis, what the heck?” Jake hissed.

  “Me? How about you and your picture? Why can’t Daddy see it?” Going up against Daddy left my nerves full of adrenaline, and maybe even anger, but I had done it. Maggie would be proud of me. Heck, I was proud of me.

  “You know how your father is,” Mama said. She put a hand on Jake’s arm. “He doesn’t want to see Jake waste his time. He knows Jake’s talented, but your father believes self-worth comes from hard work, and in his eyes, art isn’t hard work.”

  Jake pulled his arm free and headed for the door.

  “Jake!” She stopped him with her tone. “I know it’s hard work. Your father’s just old school. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, is all.”

  “Right.” Jake pulled the picture from his pocket and tore it into shreds, throwing it behind him as he stormed from the house.

  “Mama, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I said quickly.

  Mama just shook her head. Creases formed across her forehead. She put the spoon she was holding down and leaned on the table.

  “It’s not you, honey. All you’re doin’ is what’s right.”

  All you’re doin’ is what’s right. Mama’s confirmation fed my confidence. With Daddy and Jake gone, I willed myself to speak a little more openly with her.

  “Mama, what do you think about this whole civil rights movement?” I kept my eyes on the bowl before me.

  She sighed. “Another boy was beaten last night. It’s really gettin’ outta hand.”

  I wanted to spill my hurt over Jimmy Lee not coming home, and connect the dots that it might just be him beating those boys, but given that everyone in my family seemed to be having issues of some kind, I thought it best to hold my tongue.

  “A fourteen-year-old,” Mama continued. “He was walkin’ home from the drugstore with aspirin for his mother.” She rubbed her arms as if she’d suddenly gotten a chill. “I think in general, it’s a good thing. It’s a dangerous thing, but a good thing.” She walked to the window and watched Daddy drive the tractor toward the barn. “You know, Alison, we haven’t talked about Maggie. Tell me about Maggie. How is she?”

  When Mama turned back to me, I understood the shadow in her eyes that I hadn’t been able to decipher earlier—she was lonely. How empty her life must feel with the house so empty, all at once, losing both your daughters, and having a son who did everything within his power to stay away from home.

  “She’s good. She likes her classes, and her job. She’s involved in things that keep her busy.”

  Mama took my hand and led me to the table, where she sat with her elbows propped up beside the bowl I’d been using. Then she sat back and folded her arms across her chest, then set them in her lap.

  “You’re as jumpy as Jake was with Daddy. What’s wrong?”

  “I miss her, you know? I mean, she and your father, they never saw eye to eye, but me and Maggie—”

  “She drives him batty, that’s for sure.”

  She nodded. “She knows what she wants and I admire that. Maggie’s not afraid to go after her dreams, no matter what it involves.”

  “Or, who’s in her way,” I said.

  “Right, or who’s in her way.”

  “Or, who she might lose,” I added.

  Mama nodded. “I didn’t think I’d miss you girls so much,” she admitted. “One minute the house is full of laughter, little feet scamperin’ up and down the stairs, my name bein’ hollered, then the next minute, Maggie’s off to school and you’re sneakin’ out of the house.”

  She lifted her eyes and caught me by surprise.

  “You knew?”

  “I’m your mother. I know everything.”

  “But, why didn’t you—”

  “I was young once, too. I remember what it was like, your heart poundin’ so hard in anticipation of that secret kiss. Oh, yes, I remember. I wouldn’t have taken that away from you for anything in the world.”

  Embarrassment softened my voice. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Although, you do owe me. There was one time, just before your graduation, when your father woke up as you came in the door, and I had to convince him it was the wind.” Mama took my hand and said, “It’s not easy bein’ a mother, Alison. I worried sick over you, even before you started sneakin’ out. I worried about you walkin’ down our street, headin’ to the store, while you were at school. And now, I worry about you workin’ your way through your life without me by your side.”

  The way Mama looked at me made me wonder if she knew what was going on with Jimmy Lee. The more Jimmy Lee didn’t come home, the less I cared. But nagging and pulling at my mind was the thought of him beating up colored boys. I didn’t have proof, and even if I did, there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I kept it tied inside my mind like a bug in a web begging to be set free.

  “Do you think I can do it? Be a good mother I mean? Like you?”

  “Like me?” she laughed. “I’m not a very good mother, Alison.”

  “Yeah, Mama, you are.”

  “I’m weak. I let your father make the rules.” She folded the edges of a napkin.

  “You have to. You can’t fight him.” I thought about Daddy, his ability to define our lives without any force or harsh words. Daddy’s leer was enough to let you know your place, and his loving smile was enough to want him to remain on your side.

  Mama shook her head, the edges of her eyes damp. “I’m so thankful Maggie did what she did. I should have stood up for her long ago. I should have stood up for Jake, and you.”

  “Me? Mama, I’ve had a great life. I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

  “Alison,” she took my hand in hers and lowered her voice, “I let your father teach you to believe that you had a place, and that’s just wrong.” She looked away and then back at me. “I let him push away my dreams, and t
hat was okay, that was a different time all together, but then I let him push away Jake’s dreams, and your own blessed thoughts.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I swear my heart stopped and the world silenced as Mama searched my eyes for the truth. I knew exactly what she meant, but I didn’t dare tread down that path. I wanted the illusion of Mama being happy to remain in my heart forever.

  She patted my hand. “Okay, well, I should have stepped in and made you realize that such a place should not exist.”

  What are you tellin’ me?

  “Alison, how are things with Jimmy Lee?”

  Mama wasn’t a nosey woman. The fact that she was asking me meant that she’d caught wind of something. I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. He works a lot.”

  She looked deep into my eyes and drew my tears right out. I held my breath. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Oh, Alison.” Mama wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me to her bosom. “Shh.”

  “It’s so hard, Mama. He’s never home, and when he is, he’s drinkin’, and I just don’t know what happened, how things went so wrong.”

  She stroked the back of my head. Telling her the truth brought my shoulders down where they belonged and air to my lungs. I breathed like I hadn’t breathed in months, with lungs so full of oxygen I felt like my brain worked for the first time in forever. I pulled back from her and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. That was very unwifely of me, but Mama, it’s so hard. Some days I feel like I might burst, sittin’ in that apartment waitin’ for him, not knowin’ if he’ll be drunk or if he’ll even come home before midnight.”

  Mama listened, without interrupting me.

  “I don’t even think he loves me anymore, Mama. Most days I’m not even sure why I married him.”

  “I know why you married him, Alison. You’d have done anything to keep peace within this house. I just shouldn’t have let you do it.”

  I stood and paced. “You couldn’t have stopped me, Mama. I was runnin’ from myself as much as tryin’ to keep peace. I was afraid of what I might do if I didn’t marry him.”