Have No Shame

by Melissa Foster

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  So much had happened over the past few weeks that I felt like everywhere I turned a crisis was waiting on me. Though it felt good to unload my marital worries on Mama, I wondered if putting that burden on her was fair. I knew she’d worry about me now more than ever. I was feeling so alone lately, maybe I secretly wanted that worry. Did that make me selfish? I wondered.

  The morning rush had eased into a calm afternoon at the diner. I was putting in a few more hours than I usually did, but I figured it’s better than sitting home worrying about my husband’s whereabouts. When the knock came at the back door, I was happy for the distraction.

  I opened the back door of the diner and shivered against the trickling rain. A gust of wind blew through the alley and up my legs. I handed the large, brown, paper bag to Jackson’s mother, his letter tucked deftly inside between two napkins.

  “Tonight, eight o’clock,” she whispered from beneath her umbrella.

  I nodded, and as I turned to go into the building, she touched my hand. When I turned to look at her, fearing an outburst about how I’d hurt her son, she looked at me with a smile behind her eyes. I retreated back inside the diner and closed the door, leaning against it as I calmed my racing heart.

  My eyes jumped from one customer to the next. I half expected them to jump up and point at me, yelling, “Negro lover!” I smoothed my uniform over my burgeoning belly and went back to work.

  As I walked home that afternoon, I wondered how I would get out at eight o’clock. Maybe Jimmy Lee wouldn’t even be home yet. With the way things had been going, that was a real possibility. I decided to face the problems with Jimmy Lee head on. I turned around and headed for the furniture store, knowing that there was a good chance he wouldn’t be there. I just kept hanging onto the hope that he did show up for work on most days, and that I was just asking on the days he’d skipped out. If he was there, I was fixing to ask him if he’d be home on time, and if not, then he needed to fess up to whatever was going on to keep him away from home. I walked seven blocks in the pouring rain. By the time I reached the parking lot I was determined that if Jimmy Lee wasn’t at work I’d walk down to that godforsaken bar and find my husband. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy left in me concerning Jimmy Lee, but the notion that he would choose to be with those heathens instead of me set my feet in motion. Even with my umbrella, my sneakers were soaked through to my toes, and my legs were frigid.

  I peered around the corner of the building, looking for Jimmy Lee’s truck. Relief brought a laugh to my lips. Maybe Mr. Kelly was wrong after all. Jimmy Lee might drink, but maybe he wasn’t doing those other things behind my back.

  The metal door on the side of the building squeaked open. I ducked around to the front and leaned against the brick beneath the green and tan awning. The side door slammed, echoing against the rain.

  Yelling filled the air. I strained to hear what was said, but between the now sheeting rain and the distance, I only caught angry tones—and those angry tones belonged to Jimmy Lee and his uncle. I hurried back down the street toward the diner. I heard Jimmy Lee’s truck start, so I turned into the alley beside the drugstore and waited for him to pass.

  Wheels squealed on the wet pavement. Jimmy Lee’s truck sped past. I breathed fast and hard, panicked. Jimmy Lee would arrive home and I would not be there. I went into the drugstore and searched for something to use as an excuse.

  “Hi, sweetie, what can I get for you today?” Mr. Shire’s wrinkled face was too happy for the frantic worry that raced through me.

  “I, um, gee, I can’t really remember,” I said.

  “Oh, honey, that happens a lot with pregnancy. You just take your time. Here, let me get you a paper towel to dry off.” He disappeared behind the counter and returned with a handful of paper towels. “It’s a wet one today, isn’t it?”

  I wiped the rain off my arms, chest, and face. My eyes searched the shelves, finally landing on a beautiful, pink bottle of Pepto Bismol. “That’s what I came for, a bottle of Pepto.” I reached for it while Mr. Shire rattled on about his wife’s stomach ailments when she was pregnant.

  “Are you gonna be alright walkin’ home in this mess? You’re welcome to wait here for a while ‘ til the rain lets up.”

  And deal with Jimmy Lee’s wrath when I get home even later? “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  Jimmy Lee’s truck wasn’t in the parking lot when I arrived home. I went upstairs and found the apartment just as I’d left it. A warm shower served to chase away the chill that had settled in my bones. It was already three thirty and I prayed the rain would stop before the evening arrived.

  I answered the phone on the second ring, hoping it would be Jimmy Lee.

  “Alison? This is Mr. Kane. I wondered if I might escort you tonight to the meetin’ of the Blue Bonnet Club.”

  “The Blue Bonnet Club?” Had I missed something?

  “Yes, the women’s guild meetin’ tonight? My wife Mitzi will be goin’ and she suggested we pick you up along the way.” He lowered his tone when he said women’s guild, and I realized that he was covering for the meeting at the creek later that evening. I felt as dumb as a stump.

  “Yes, of course, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “We’ll pick you up at seven forty-five.”

  The rain had stopped, leaving the creek running high and the surrounding ground soft and mucky. I stood in my rain boots among a growing crowd, some of whom I recognized, and some I did not. Since Jimmy Lee didn’t return home, I left him a message and decided that what I was doing was far more important than worrying about where he’d sped off to.

  Mr. Kane stood beside me in his hunting coat, his rifle in his right hand, pointed at the ground. I questioned the safety of my very presence as the din around me grew louder and more people emerged from the woods. I worried each one would be Daddy, or worse, Jimmy Lee.

  Mitzi Kane stood beside me, her fleshy arm around my shoulder, a constant source of comfort and confidence with her whispers of encouragement, “We’re doin’ the right thing. This has to change. Maggie would be so proud of you.”

  Mrs. Johns came through the crowd with two boys in tow. I recognized Albert, a light-colored scar led from the corner of his eye to his hairline, a painful reminder of what my husband and brother had done to him. I wanted to reach for his hand, touch his arm, do something that would let him know that I cared, but I didn’t dare. We might be among mixed races, but this was not New York, and I thought I’d be better off keeping my hands to myself than making waves. I moved from Mitzi’s grasp and stood before Albert.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’m sorry they hurt you.”

  He nodded, his eyes cast toward his feet.

  Jackson’s mother put her arm around the other boy, who I recognized as my Friday afternoon lollipop boy.

  “This is Tinsel,” she said. “And I’m Patricia.”

  How I had wanted to know Jackson’s family, to sit at their kitchen table and talk with his mother about her children, cooking, and life, as I did with my own mother. Jimmy Lee’s parents rarely spoke to me, and I longed for the warmth that I saw in Patricia’s eyes, so different than when we had met at the diner.

  My voice shook. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Fear and happiness coalesced, creating a bubble around us, in which I wanted to stay. I wanted to get to know her better, but stronger than my curiosity was my desire to right the wrongs done by my race, in Forrest Town.

  A young girl stood behind Patricia and, behind her, a man who must have been six foot five rested his hand on her shoulder. When he looked into my eyes it was Jackson’s image that was staring back. My heart skipped a beat.

  He nodded. “Ma’am.”

  “I’m Alison,” I said.

  “Michael Johns,” the man said, in a voice so deep it startled me.

  It took all of my concentration to look away from Jackson’s father, when what I really wanted to do was give the man a hug and tell him t
hat I was sorry for hurting his son. Instead, I cast my eyes to the left, recognizing the clerk from the department store, the gangly man who ran the gas station, and the always-smiling librarian, Lilly. I was thankful for the distraction. The moonlight shone down on the sea of people. Most of the men carried weapons, spinning around every few seconds to scan the woods.

  Mr. Kane sidled up beside me. “There are more comin’. We have scouts on the other side of the woods, they’ll send someone in if there’s any hint of trouble brewin’.”

  “Alison?”

  I had a difficult time reconciling Mama’s voice to my surrounding’s. I turned slowly, and found her standing behind me, her eyes wide, her hair perfectly combed. She wore her Wednesday night Blue Bonnet best.

  Suddenly, I no longer felt afraid.

  Chapter Thirty

  “What are we gettin’ at the market, again?” Jimmy Lee was driving me to the store to buy fixings for dinner.

  “I’m makin’ chicken and biscuits.”

  Jimmy Lee had come home after me the evening of the meeting, and we’d barely spoken in the days that followed. I lived in constant anticipation of receiving Jackson’s next letter, and there was no avoiding the guilt that followed the rush of excitement. I was a married, pregnant woman, and even if I’d married Jimmy Lee for the wrong reasons, even if I didn’t love him, I had to know in my heart that our marriage wasn’t failing solely because of my love for someone else—a warped need to not let Daddy down on all accounts. He’d be devastated if our marriage ended, but if it were my fault, he might never get past it.

  “Nice.” Jimmy Lee reached for my thigh and gave it a squeeze. “You look pretty today.” That was the first compliment he’d given me in months, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed the soft edges that he hid so well. I realized then, that even with him being kinder to me, I still yearned to be with Jackson.

  “Thank you,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “Do you wanna go to your parents’ house for Thanksgivin’ or mine?”

  Jimmy Lee didn’t answer.

  We passed the diner, and I longed to go inside, march right to the back door, and whip it open. I longed for Patricia to hand me another letter. A quick note, some sort of acknowledgment that Jackson had received my letter.

  “Alison!” Jimmy Lee fumed.

  “Gheez, what, Jimmy Lee? You scared me.”

  “I asked you three times. You were off in La La Land. I said, I have to go out tonight, so have dinner ready early.”

  “Where are you goin’?” Annoyance pecked at my nerves.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “It does matter. We’re married, and I never see you.” I crossed my arms over my chest, biting back my hurt.

  “You see me. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “That isn’t what I mean. Ever since we got married, we never hang out anymore, we never go on dates, we never do anything but wake up together.”

  He eyed my belly. “I think we do more than that.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned away. Then realized it was now or never.

  “Jimmy Lee, where do you go at night, when you go for drinks? Where are you goin’ tonight?”

  We stopped at a red light and Jimmy Lee turned toward me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his open window. “What I do does not concern you.” He faced forward, then said in a cold, even tone, “Someone has to keep these streets safe.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Women huddled by the butcher, whispering among themselves. The cashier leaned in close, whispering to the customer in line when I walked by. I glanced out the front window where Jimmy Lee was lighting a cigarette, and then headed for the frozen vegetable aisle. I neared the butcher counter and the gossiping women quickly dispersed.

  “Hi, Charlie,” I said to the butcher as I passed.

  “Alison. Where’s that husband of yours?” He looked up and down the aisle.

  “He’s waitin’ outside.”

  What was going on? Did everyone know about the meeting last night? Oh, God. I hurried through the store and picked up the groceries I needed, then headed for the cashier.

  “Hi, Millie.” Millie Lapas, a thin-lipped girl who'd been in my English class, looked me up and down.

  “How are you, Alison?”

  I patted my belly. “Fat and happy, I suppose.”

  She smirked, darting her eyes at the women who were now huddled by the dairy aisle.

  “How are you really doin’?” she whispered.

  “Fine?” What on earth?

  “I just figured, with that boy pressin’ charges and all that, you know?” She raised her eyebrows.

  I shook my head in confusion.

  “Oh, it’s none of my business. I’m sure it wasn’t Jimmy Lee.” She swatted the air.

  “What wasn’t Jimmy Lee?” I asked. Jimmy Lee leaned on the front of the truck, cigarette in hand.

  Millie stopped ringing up my items and leaned across the counter. “You know, that boy he beat up?”

  Albert? I wrapped my arm around my belly, wanting to protect my baby from hearing whatever might come next.

  “You don’t have to hide it, Alison. Everyone knows he beat up that colored boy, Thomas Green. Left him near ‘bout dead.”

  My knees grew weak. “Wh...what?”

  What had he done? Good Lord, everyone knew? I looked around the store, the eyes of every patron were cast on me like fishing hooks.

  “Can you hurry, please?” I scrambled to pay, grabbed my groceries, and rushed out of the store, one hand around my burgeoning belly, the other carrying the bag of groceries, as I crossed the parking lot toward the truck.

  “Get in quick,” I urged Jimmy Lee.

  He didn’t budge while I climbed in and set the bag of groceries strategically between him and me. “Get in, Jimmy Lee, now!”

  He stamped out his cigarette under his foot and lackadaisically stepped into the truck. I covered my face and motioned with my hands with him to hurry.

  “What has gotten into you?” He started the truck and I ducked down in my seat to avoid the glares of the women who stood peering out the window of the market.

  “What did you do, Jimmy Lee?”

  He laughed. “Smoked a cigarette.”

  “You beat up another boy, didn’t you? All those people in the store, they said you beat up a colored boy and his family is fixin’ to press charges.”

  “Shit, that kid? He was just some scrawny Negro.”

  “Well that scrawny Negro is a person. He has feelin’s, Jimmy Lee, and he hurts just like you an’ me. Besides, that poor sufferin’ boy will get you put in jail.”

  Jimmy Lee sped toward home. I turned my back to him, my hands and jaw clenched tight.

  “My uncle’ll hire the best attorney in town. Ain’t nobody gonna touch me.”

  “Your uncle? Is that what you think, Jimmy Lee? Uncle Billy’s gonna get you out of this mess? How about me? How about our baby? I’ll be shunned by everyone.”

  “Not the people who matter.”

  Tears of anger stung my eyes. “You’re so selfish! Can’t you see what you’ve done?”

  He skidded to a stop on the side of the road and leaned so close to me he spit on my cheek as he spoke. “You listen to me. I’m the same man you married. All I did was take out the garbage.”

  Too frightened to move, I leaned hard against the door, the handle pressing into my side. I had to find a way out of my marriage.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The letter came three days later. The date had been set. The boycott would take place on November 6, a Tuesday. I held the letter against my chest and silently prayed that no one would get hurt. I thought of Thomas Green and Albert Johns, and wondered how many other people my husband had hurt. Jimmy Lee’s hate-filled eyes consumed my thoughts. What would he do if he found out I was engaged in the civil rights movement? I leaned against the bathroom wall and wrapped my hands around my belly.

  “Don�
�t you worry,” I whispered to the unborn child that I was becoming more and more attached to. “I won’t let Daddy hurt you.” I vowed not to let him hurt me, either. I couldn’t keep him from hurting others, and I couldn’t keep tabs on his whereabouts without a vehicle, but I could damn well make sure he never touched me again.

  Mama and I sat on the front porch of our farmhouse. We regarded each other with caution. I knew better than to speak of what was going on, and Mama knew better than to tell me not to. The dynamic between us had changed the night of the meeting. She learned that I was an adult, and in the silence that had stretched between us when we were surrounded by that hopeful and determined mix of races, I learned that she was far more than a quiet participant in her marriage. I wondered what my grandmother would think, if she were alive. She’d groomed Mama to be a loyal and submissive wife, and until that night, I thought that Mama had followed suit. I now understood the pride she held in Maggie for doing all the things in her life that Mama had only dreamed of.

  “I’ve heard the rumors, about Jimmy Lee,” she said.

  No response would change the situation.

  “They say he and his uncle are also responsible for the death of Mr. Bingham.”

  I had been harboring that worry for so long, and to hear confirmation out loud made my heart ache. I looked at Mama with the hope that she could make the situation go away, or at least lessen the ramifications, but I knew she could not. I wished I was twelve years old again, and that my biggest worry was what skirt to wear or which cookies to help her bake.

  “Alison, these are serious allegations,” she said solemnly.

  “His uncle and his daddy will get him off.” I hated myself for parroting my vicious husband.

  “I raised you better than that.”

  I flushed. “I don’t know what to do. He’s a monster. He was a monster before I married him. Mama, what do I do?”