Have No Shame

by Melissa Foster

  “Any minute.”

  Doctor Warden opened the door and motioned Mama back into the room. “I think Alison had a panic attack,” he explained, “which set off some minor contractions. Her baby is fine, but she needs rest. She has another four or five weeks to go, and I want her off her feet—completely. I gave her a mild sedative to calm her down.”

  Mama gave me an I told you so look.

  “If she’s anything like you, that’s what it will take to keep her down. Now, let’s take a look at Maggie, shall we?” Doctor Warden was a short, thin, bespectacled man with wisps of gray hair along the sides of his head. He squeezed my hand before leaving the room. I listened to their hushed voices and prayed for Jackson’s safety as I drifted off to sleep.

  Light streamed through the blinds, filling the tiny room where I’d fallen asleep. I sat up, my mind still groggy. The events from earlier came back in bits and pieces. Maggie, badly beaten. Jackson gone. Dead. I lay back down. Tomorrow was the boycott. None of it seemed to matter anymore. My husband was out preparing to kill even more people as they rallied around Forrest Town to try and make things better. Better for who? I wondered.

  Maggie opened the door. She wore a patch over her eye, but looked surprisingly better than she had earlier. “Hi, Pix.” She sat on the sofa next to me. “Are you okay? I was so worried.”

  “About me? Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I got you into this.” She played with a bracelet she wore on her left arm. “I can’t believe Jackson is gone. We never woulda gone if we’d known.”

  Mention of his name brought tears. I squeezed my eyes closed against them. I was all too aware of the anger growing from the pain of losing Jackson.

  “Oh, Pix. I’m sorry to upset you. Jackson was my friend, too. We’ll all miss him.”

  I shook my head. “How do we keep those people from bein’ shot by Jimmy Lee and his uncle’s posse?”

  “You mean the KKK assholes?” Maggie’s wit must have come back with the light of day.

  I nodded.

  “The network is gettin’ word out. Mr. Kane has a group goin’ miles up the highway to stop ‘em before they get close.”

  “Have you talked to Patricia?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Mr. Kane did.”

  “How is she? I can’t stand this,” I cried. “Maggie.” I longed to tell her how much I loved Jackson. I wanted to tell her about how we used to meet by the creek, and the things he said, and the way he touched me. I wanted to pour my heart and soul into her lap and have her hold it there, safe, forever.

  “Are you girls hungry?” Mrs. Kane appeared in the doorway carrying a tray of soup.

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” I said, wishing she’d go away. I swallowed my emotions and knew I’d forever hold my secret.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’d love some,” Maggie said, and took the bowl of soup from the tray.

  Mrs. Kane disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “What were you gonna say, Pix?” Maggie asked, and took a sip of the soup.

  “Nothin’. I’m just scared for everyone, and now we’re stuck here doin’ nothin’. Where’s Mama?”

  “She had to go home. She’s tellin’ Daddy that you’re back at your apartment.”

  “Are we stayin’ here?”

  Maggie nodded. “She thought it was safer than goin’ back home and raisin’ questions with Daddy.”

  “Do you think they’ll reach ‘em in time?” I sat up next to Maggie and leaned against the back of the sofa.

  “Yeah, they will.”

  “But what then? Will they call it off?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “But—”

  “Mr. Kane said they’ll let ‘em believe the boycott is called off, and then they’ll show up.”

  “But it’s too dangerous!” I envisioned Mr. Nash getting shot in his car, Bear and the others dead in the backseat. “Is Darla comin’?”

  Maggie nodded. “Everyone’s comin’.”

  “Except Jackson,” I said, and closed my eyes against the now familiar wave of sadness before it swallowed me whole.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Maggie and I had been ordered to remain at the Kane’s house until Mama came for us, when it was safe. We sat in the living room listening to Mr. Kane on the telephone, as he gave directions to the contacts for each of the traveling groups. Mr. Kane’s long-time friend was one of the police officers who arrested Jimmy Lee, and he’d confided in Mr. Kane about the timing of the sniper-style massacre that awaited the protesters.

  “That’s right, they’re expectin’ you at ten o’clock, three hours from now. Hang back ‘til at least five in the afternoon. By then, they’ll figure you gave up, and I’ll make sure that’s what they think.” He paused. “Mm-hmm. Tell them, too. Any word from South Carolina?” Mr. Kane sighed. “Okay, yeah, we have that covered.”

  “What’s gonna happen to everyone here? Did they go to work today?” I felt out of the loop since losing half the day to sleep yesterday. Maggie’s bruises were turning a ghostly green and yellow. The swelling around her eye had gone down significantly from the ice Mrs. Kane had insisted upon.

  “They’re actin’ like it’s a normal workday. When the protesters come, that’s when they’ll leave.”

  “What about Patricia?”

  His eyes softened. “She’s angry and scared, but more than anything, she’s grievin’. There’s been a lot of death around that poor woman lately. Mr. Green was a close friend of their family’s.”

  Mrs. Kane stood with one hand on the couch, one hand on her ample hip.

  “Before the ruckus starts, I’m headin’ into town to load up on a few necessities. Do either of you girls need anything?”

  We shook our heads. “But can we come with you? We promise not to stray. We just want one last look at the town the way it is,” Maggie pleaded. It hadn’t taken long for her spirits to rise.

  Mrs. Kane looked Maggie up and down, a frown on her lips.

  “I’ll say I fell down. Please? No one knows where I’ve been,” Maggie begged.

  Mrs. Kane flattened a wrinkle in her dress and sighed. “I don’t know. Your mama would have my hide if anything happened to either of you.” She came around the couch and stood before us. “Alison, you heard Doc Warden. You need to rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but—” Even I could hear that my conviction toward goin’ to town wasn’t as strong as Maggie’s, but Maggie was not leaving me behind.

  “I’ll stay right with her. We won’t get into any trouble. I promise,” Maggie piped in.

  Mrs. Kane looked at the clock and I held my breath, half praying she’d allow us to go along and half praying she wouldn’t.

  “I suppose if we hurry, that’s fine. We’ll be back here in an hour, safe and sound.”

  The morning sun lit up Main Street just as it did most days. There were people milling about, and it appeared no one was the wiser to the impending boycott. While Mrs. Kane ran into the General Store, Maggie and I went into the diner.

  “Oh, sugar, there you are safe and sound.” Jean hugged me close. Her jaw gaped when she spotted Maggie behind me. “My word, what on earth happened to you?”

  Maggie put her hand up to cover her split lip. “I tripped in the street. I’m a klutz.” Maggie was a terrible liar. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes skitted nervously around the diner.

  “That musta been some fall. You girls want some coffee? Tea?”

  We sat at the counter and I apologized for asking for time off. I explained what the doctor had said. Jean leaned over the counter and whispered, “With all that’s goin’ on today, I think y’all should scoot on home right quick.”

  I grabbed Maggie’s hand under the counter and feigned ignorance. “Whaddaya mean?”

  Jean rolled her eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that you know? Come on, Alison.”

  “What?” I shot a concerned look at Maggie. “Who else knows?”

&nb
sp; “My Aunt Katherine went to the meetin’s. I would go if I could, but you know my husband would have me tied to the porch if he had his way. Now you girls get outta here before somethin’ happens.” Jean came around the counter and put her hand on my shoulder. She whispered in my ear, “Get home and be safe.”

  Outside the diner, I grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her into the alley. “What if others know? We could be in real danger.”

  Maggie held my hands and looked into my eyes in that calming way she had about her. “Pixie, no one knows. We’re fine.”

  Suddenly, from across the road, a crowd broke through the trees—black men I didn’t recognize, dressed in tank tops and t-shirts, their muscles glistening in the sun. There must have been thirty of them carrying something at their sides. I grabbed Maggie’s arm. Maggie’s eyes danced wildly up and down the road.

  “Wicked smart,” she said under her breath. “It’s the boycotters. ”

  “Maggie, let’s go. We gotta go!” I said, pulling her arm toward Mrs. Kane’s car. “Why are they here? They’ll be shot.” I looked all around for the snipers, expecting to hear shots ringing out any second.

  “No,” Maggie said, as if in a daze. “They’re brilliant. The police are all on the highway.” Maggie ripped her arm from my grasp and ran toward them, yelling over her shoulder, “Pixie—find Mrs. Kane! Go! Now!”

  I ran toward the drugstore, the heft of my baby weighing down each step. By the time I reached the store, Mrs. Kane and nearly every store owner on the block had come outside. There were three trucks full of coloreds coming from the direction of our farm. Alfred was on the bed of the largest truck, along with a mass of other men.

  “Good Lord,” Mrs. Kane said. “Come quick, child. We must go!” She hurried toward her car.

  “I can’t leave Maggie!” I ran into the street toward the crowd that now held up signs: Equality Everywhere; Freedom; Racial Dignity; Stop Racial Wars. I put my hands under my belly and lifted my girth to alleviate the mounting pressure in my groin. “Maggie!” I yelled. The trucks had parked and now there were people everywhere I looked, in the road, marching down Main Street, standing on the sidewalks. I was swept away with the pushing of the crowd.

  “Maggie? Maggie?” I yelled again, frantically searching for her through the crowd.

  Someone pushed me forward and I stumbled, grabbing onto the man’s belt in front of me. He turned around with angry eyes, then softened when he saw me struggling to stand. He helped me to my feet and asked if I was okay. We moved down Main Street as a loud, determined group. I worried about the police mowing us down with bullets. Maggie’s voice came from the outside of the crowd. I pushed my way toward her.

  “Maggie!” I yelled.

  “Pixie! Go home!” She yelled through the tangle of arms and legs.

  I was lost in a sea of bodies. Angry store owners retreated behind locked doors. A heavy white woman ran into the street and got in the face of the colored men who led the charge.

  “Get out of our town! We don’t want you here!” She spat on him and the crowd pushed past her, leaving her screaming into the uncaring air.

  Police sirens sounded in the distance. Cars came from the direction of the farms at the far end of town. Whites joined the march. Angry shouts came from the sidewalks, and within the marching crowd came a beat of footsteps on pavement and strong voices, "Equal rights, equal pay, equal freedom. Equal rights, equal pay, equal freedom."

  I found myself swept up in the cadence and the energy of the crowd. I thought of Jackson and tears stung my eyes. Words thrust from my lungs, “Equal rights, equal pay, equal freedom!”

  Suddenly a colored man burst from the crowd and sprinted for the diner. He swung the door open and yelled, “Let our people eat! Let our people eat!”

  I stared in amazement, waiting for Jean to slam the door shut. Jean came out and stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed, a shock of red lipstick across her smiling lips. Joe’s fleshy body filled the doorway, his face set in a harsh, nasty glare. The colored man continued his chant. “Let our people eat! Let our people eat!” Joe shook his head and wiped his hand on the white body apron he wore, then he walked away, spurring on the man in the doorway. “Equal rights! Equal Freedom!”

  The crowd chanted, “Let our people eat!” Sirens blared, growing louder by the second until they were almost upon us. Three squad cars skidded to a halt, blocking Main Street and halting the yelling crowd. “Equal rights, equal pay, equal freedom!”

  I caught sight of Maggie pushing her way through the crowd. I recognized Albert and young Thomas Green’s swollen face a few feet from where I stood. They chanted and sweat, their eyes serious, unwavering. Thomas limped against a wooden crutch, one arm in a cast. The veins in Albert’s neck swelled thick like snakes as he yelled in unison with the group. He turned my way and caught my stare. Jackson.

  Marching toward us was a group of white-capped klansmen carrying thick sticks. One carried a fiery torch. “Niggers, go home! Niggers, go home!”

  I stood, slack jawed, watching the group of them stomp down Main Street, the white drapes they wore flapping in the breeze. Eye holes cut in pointy, white hats that rose far above their heads and covered them clear to their chests. Mama was right. Would they kill us all? I scanned the crowd quickly—there was no sign of Maggie. I had to get out of there. I looked for Mrs. Kane, but she, too, had been swallowed by the chaos. How did things go so wrong? I was pushed along with the boycotters toward the KKK, their angry words booming louder, above the din of the crowd.

  The police stepped from the cars, their nightsticks slapping hard against their palms. Officer Chandler planted his legs hip width apart. “Y’all break it up now, ya’ hear?”

  “Niggers, go home!” the KKK chanted.

  The crowd continued, “Equal rights, equal pay, equal freedom!”

  I spotted Maggie pushing through the front of the crowd. She crossed her arms and nudged her chin up. I knew that stance. Maggie stood eye-to-eye with Officer Chandler.

  “This is a peaceful movement. We aren’t hurtin’ anyone. We’re makin’ a statement,” Maggie shouted.

  “Step aside, Maggie. This doesn’t concern you,” Officer Chandler commanded.

  “Yes, it does,” she said. Maggie turned toward the people ogling from the sidewalk and yelled, “This concerns you!” She pointed at two women coming out of the furniture store and gawking at her. “And you, and you!” Maggie pointed at a white man, then another, standing angrily and sneering at the crowd. “This is our town, and you should all be ashamed.”

  One of the klansmen moved toward Maggie, his large white fist—the only visible piece of his skin—clasped around a thick stick. Officer Chandler held his arm out, protecting her. The klansmen moved around the police car and pushed a short, stout, colored picketer. Suddenly there was a rumble of white caps and colored men. Blurs of white sheet flew against flashes of black, spots of red appearing on the sheets as men were beaten to the ground. I was pushed to and fro, stumbling to remain upright. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back away from the fighting and into the depths of the group. I heard Maggie’s voice rising and falling in an argument with Officer Chandler, as the police moved in on the crowd, pushing them back down Main Street the way they’d come.

  Several cars raced into town, screeching to a halt. People piled out of the cars and shouting ensued. Blacks, whites, old, young, men, and women, there were more people than I’d ever seen on Main Street. I pushed toward the front of the crowd, yelling for Maggie. A sharp pain raced through my lower back and I cried out in pain. The police formed a line and were pushing the crowd back, the KKK yelled angry barbs, "Coons, go home! Niggers, retreat!"

  The raging pack of klansmen set their sights on a group of colored men, staring them down through the eyeholes in their ridiculous—and ominious—caps. Suddenly there was a swarm of fists, arms and legs upended, and a rumble on the ground. It was hard to decipher where one white-caped man ended and the next began. I had to look away.
The police ignored the beatings, fueling the rage of the group that swarmed the streets. A shot rang out, followed by a hush of the crowd. Then, as if the clouds had suddenly burst upon us, another shot rang out and the coloreds barreled into the police, taking them down and mauling the KKK.

  I caught my breath and felt a strong hand pull me toward the sidewalk. I was being pulled and dragged, disoriented as I passed shouting people, punches flying in all directions. Someone kicked me in the side and I screamed, careening forward toward whoever was pulling me away. I clamored along the ground until we were away from the crowd, and I looked up to find Patricia’s terrified eyes, wide-set and serious.

  “Get up! Get up!” she hissed.

  I stumbled to my feet and she pulled me along, pressure mounting in my belly, each step a painful, determined force. She pulled me deep into the woods toward Division Street.

  “Maggie!” I yelled through my tears.

  “I can’t help her, but I can help you,” she said, and put her shoulder under my arm, bearing most of my weight as she hurried me away from the fighting. Shouts and cries drifted away behind us, two more shots rang out.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about Jackson,” I said.

  “Quiet,” she said.

  She brought me through the woods and we came out across the road from Division Street.

  “Hurry now,” she said, and urged me to walk toward her house.

  “I can’t.” Every step felt as though my baby would fall right out of my body. “It hurts.”

  “It’s gonna hurt a lot more if they catch us. Now think of your mama and get your ass movin’, child.”

  We stumbled across the road. Tinsel ran up beside me and turned his wide eyes up to his mother.

  “She okay?” he asked, his little arms flailing up and pointing at my chest.

  I concentrated on breathing, keeping myself moving forward.

  Patricia didn’t answer, just huffed as she helped me toward the house.

  Tinsel prodded. “She gonna get us killed? She gonna have dat baby?”