Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  Danny was ambivalent about going—excited, terrified, filled with hurt. He didn’t want to leave me, but he yearned for freedom from Bradleyville. The first hill outside of town, I thought, and he’ll be laughing with giddiness, the caged bird now flying. I was weeping inside. Danny, please don’t leave me with your heart.

  “I can’t say good-bye like this, standin’ at school,” he told me, ache in his eyes.

  “Me either.”

  We gazed at each other, breathing the hot June air, the jubilant chatter of freed students filtering around us. “Come tonight,” I implored, “in your car. I’ll meet you at the corner of Main after everyone’s gone to bed. I’ll slip out. Eleven o’clock.”

  “Celia, no. I can’t leave you shamed like that. Anybody sees us, the whole town’ll talk.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like, havin’ the whole town against you.” “I don’t care. Please come. Because if you don’t, I’ll show up at the Hardings; I’ll shame us all.”

  He slid the diploma into his notebook. “You sure that’s what you want?”

  “You know I do.”

  “My mama’d have a fit. What am I supposed to tell her and the Hardings?”

  “Wait till they’re in bed.”

  “Mama won’t sleep all night; she’s too excited.”

  “Then tell her nothin’. Just leave.”

  “She won’t let me go.”

  “Yes, she will. She stayed in the bedroom that night, didn’t she, while you took care of your daddy? You bear all the guilt yourself, but you think she didn’t know what could happen? You’re eighteen years old, Danny; she’ll let you go. You did that for her. She’ll do this for you.”

  He touched my cheek. “I don’t have the strength to fight you. I want to be with you too much.”

  “Then come.”

  I took my bath early. Retired to my room, saying good night to Kevy and Daddy. Locked the door, dressed with care. A light blue knit top, tucked into the waistband of a knee-length skirt. Bare legs and sandals. I brushed my hair until it rippled down my back, then waited, palms sweaty. At ten o’clock I turned out my light and sat in the dark, wishing the streetlight wasn’t so bright. The next fifty minutes took forever.

  Sneaking out at night was a terrible gamble. If people found out, they’d never understand. If God tried to talk me out of it, I couldn’t hear him.

  Finally my watch read ten-fifty. Cautiously I opened my door, holding my thumb over the lock so it wouldn’t snap. The hallway was dark and quiet. Slipping out, I pulled my door closed behind me, releasing the knob with precision and lifting my fingers away. Crept through the living room and kitchen. Eased open the back door and stepped onto the porch. The night was warm, a slight breeze. A half moon hung low, peeking between the leaves of our oak tree and illuminating our swing.

  Sneaking down the porch steps was the hardest; they tended to creak. But nothing would stop me, not even my mama discovering me in midstep, hand trailing the banister. I’d simply run.

  I made it without a hitch. The soft grass beneath my sandals brought a soundless sigh of relief to my lips. I walked around the far side of the house so as not to pass underneath Mama’s window. I flinched at the streetlight, head swiveling, but no one was near. Within a couple minutes I’d walked the block to Main. The stoplight was busily at work, changing from yellow to red to green, commanding cement. At the right corner of the intersection stood the willow tree, its branches a deep, swaying curtsy. I stood beneath it, drawing back from light, and waited.

  It wasn’t long before I heard Danny’s car, its slow glide reverberating between the houses. I appeared from the shadows, waved him to a stop, and slipped into his car. Closed the door as quietly as I could. His eyes traveled my face. “Where to?”

  “Our trees.”

  He turned the car around and headed downtown. I scooted next to him and he put his arm around me. When we were past town and the railroad tracks, he parked on a dark, narrow road and we got out to walk, hand in hand.

  “It looks so different at night,” I breathed, seeing the familiar spread of leaves shine dimly under the rising moon.

  “Come on.” He pulled me forward.

  The calling of crickets ceased as we picked our way through dark grass, watching our feet. “It’s been so long since we’ve been here,” I said. The river was a lazy wide ribbon of silver and black. The colors of Jake Lewellyn’s marble.

  “Uh-huh. I always liked it after dark.”

  “You’ve been here at night?”

  “Lots a times. When things got too crazy, I’d come here and think about you.”

  Another part of Danny I’d known nothing about. How many other things did I not know?

  We sank down in the grass and held each other tightly, unable to speak.

  “Just think, Celia,” Danny said, breaking the silence, “the next time we see each other, we’ll be gittin’ married. We’ll be together the rest of our lives.”

  “Promise me we’ll see a justice that very day. I don’t want to wait a minute longer than we have to.”

  “You won’t get to have a wedding.” He rubbed my arm as if in comfort. “I thought every girl wanted a wedding.”

  “Every girl doesn’t have you.”

  I could feel his smile in the darkness.

  “We got to get our lives straight,” he told me. “We got to pray every day and ask Jesus to get us back on track. I been prayin’ a lot lately, and I believe he’s heard me, even after all I’ve done. Your granddad was a wise man. That night he talked to me at your house, he warned me about going out into the world, leaving you behind. ‘All kinds of new temptations’ll come your way,’ he said. But he told me I only had to do one thing: never take my eyes off Jesus. ‘It’s like walkin’ a tightrope,’ he said. ‘You look at the emptiness around you, you’ll be terrified. You look at your feet, you’ll fall.’ We got to do that, Celia, keep looking at Christ. Not just this year but ever after that. I don’t know about you, but I’m afraid that if I look away one more big time, I just won’t survive it.”

  I wondered how I’d survive the year in any circumstance.

  “We will, Danny; we’ll both keep focused. I can’t believe God would let me lose you now. We’ve come through too much already.”

  We held each other for hours into the night, talking, planning, dreading the dawn. When he finally urged that we had to go, he lifted my chin and kissed me one last time, darkness flowing around us until the rest of the world fell away and there was only Danny, that moment. I wanted that kiss never to end.

  “I love you, Celia,” he whispered into my hair. “Remember how much I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Danny. I love you, too.”

  Then I burst into tears, clinging to him. “Danny, don’t leave me! I can’t be here without you, not now. Your daddy’s not here anymore; you can stay in Bradleyville this year!”

  “Celia, don’t.” He pulled me to his chest. His crying sounded low in his throat. “Don’t do this to me. I love you too much.”

  We cried together, rocking, until we could cry no more, and we sank against one of the trees, exhausted. Still we were unable to leave, gazing at each other’s shadowed faces, tracing a fingertip down a cheek, smoothing hair from a forehead, pledging our love forever.

  By the time I woke up in my bed the next morning, trembling and vacant, I knew he had gone.

  chapter 47

  I thought I’d die of loneliness after Danny left. Bradleyville offered little to console me, save for Kevy and Daddy. Mama remained as indifferent as always, never once so much as mentioning the hurt she knew I felt. I told myself bitterly I should be glad she wasn’t overtly gloating. And of course Granddad’s room was empty, washing me with grief. Only our letters, so painstakingly written, got me through the days. They skimmed back and forth, passing each other in airplanes and mailrooms and through the arthritic fingers of Mrs. B. at the post office. My letters declared my lov
e. Danny’s letters declared his adoration, even while laced with the wonder and fascination of the world we would one day see together.

  June 6

  Dear Celia,

  You wouldn’t believe the ocean! It’s so blue and the waves look so powerful. I like to hear the way they hiss on the sand. The water is beautiful under the moon. The beaches are packed. Kids make sand castles and couples are kissing. I miss you so much!

  All that summer I baby-sat the Harding children, wiping noses and making peanut butter sandwiches while inwardly crying for Danny. My friends called occasionally but we had little to say. How could they understand my torture? Mary Lee I could have talked to. But she was off to Europe, running with the rich and beautiful. Mama and I avoided each other. I spent time with Kevy and went for evening walks with Daddy, who tried his best to assuage my sadness. He took to driving me into Albertsville for lunch every Saturday, pointing out boys my age. Feeling bad about his hurt for me, I almost told him of my plans with Danny numerous times. But I was afraid it would be more than he could keep from Mama and so remained silent.

  August 15

  Dear Celia,

  Mama and I have found a small apartment. It’s not in the best part of town, though. We have just enough for rent and food. But she’s happy. She even hums while she cleans.

  The ships really are big as buildings. My job seems easy after the farm. But life is not easy, because you’re not here. The girls here make Mary Lee look like a kitten. Their swimsuits are shameless. Young boys and girls are together and no one cares. Bradleyville may be strict, but now I see the value of those ways.

  The pangs of jealousy bit as I thought of Danny surrounded by half-dressed girls. Did they look at him the way Mary Lee had? How many gazed into those emerald eyes, wanting him? Danny, I wrote, there’s nothing here for me. I’m counting the months until I can be with you. Wait for me. Danny answered that he ached for me, too, that the locket with my picture was always in his pocket.

  Danny couldn’t afford a phone and I had no privacy to talk anyway, so the letters continued to flow. I’m saving every cent for you, he wrote. We can’t live in this apartment when you come; you’re used to so much better. I knew we wouldn’t have to live there; we’d have my inheritance. But still I did not tell him.

  In late August Mr. B. retired, Lee Harding taking his place as mill manager. The church held an outdoor social to celebrate the two men, and most everyone came. Jake Lewellyn attended, sitting tiredly, absently tapping his cane. With no Thomas Bradley to nettle, he was withering away. Mr. Lewellyn, I thought, I’m withering, too.

  Miss Jessie whispered to me of the letters she’d received from Patricia Cander. “She sounds very happy and proud of her son. But he’s moody from missin’ you.” It may have been selfish but I was glad to hear it. He was the one who’d left, after all. Once his daddy was gone, he could have changed his plans, stayed in town with his mama and waited for me.

  Mary Lee came with her parents, the bright spot of the day. She was back from Europe and leaving for Lexington the next week. “Look at you,” I breathed. Her hair was even longer and her makeup perfect. Rich and beautiful Mary Lee. Was Danny seeing girls like this?

  “I met a man in Paris,” she gushed. “Ah, such a city!” Pulling at her shirt, she feigned a rapidly beating heart.

  We wandered away from the crowd, and I told her about sneaking out to see Danny that last night. I had to tell somebody.

  “You mean you managed to sneak out without little ol’ me?” Throwing back her head, she laughed at the sun. I laughed with her. It had been a long time since I’d done that.

  “When are you leavin’ for Lexington?”

  “In three days.”

  “Oh, Mary Lee, I’m so happy for you. But I’ll miss talking to you.” “Yeah. I’ll miss you, too.” She fell silent for a moment. “You sneak a call to Danny every once in a while, don’t you?”

  “No. He doesn’t have a phone.”

  “Oh, really,” she said, the words wrapped in suspicion.

  “He doesn’t have the money.”

  “Everyone has the money for a phone. You should be able to get hold of him.”

  “He’s savin’ for when we’re together.”

  “Mm. Well. You just keep writing him. Remind him you’re here, languishing, while he’s chasin’ waves.”

  I didn’t like her tone. Mainly because it reflected my own thoughts. Mary Lee, I thought, not everybody is as fickle as you.

  Fall arrived. Leaves turned orange-gold, then skittered in brown crackles along Bradleyville streets. At school I ate lunch with Barbara and Melissa, enviously hearing about their dates, their boys coming to supper. “But I don’t know about Bobby,” Melissa confided. “His mind seems somewhere else.”

  I knew where his mind was. Still on me.

  He’d arrived at our door the previous Saturday, lips pressed in vulnerability, wondering if I would give him a chance now that Danny had gone. Poor Bobby, I thought. Such courage it had taken to come to me again. “Bobby,” I said gently as we stood on my porch, “you’re calling on Melissa, my best friend. If she was to step outside her door right now and see you here, what would she think?”

  He looked at his feet. “It’d be worth it, if you said yes.”

  “Bobby. Stay with her; she cares for you. You know who I love.”

  His dreams crumbled from his face. “Why, Celia? Why him? I’ve done everything. Even left you alone. He had nothin’ to offer you. Now he’s gone and he won’t be back.”

  “He has himself. That’s all I want. He’s offered that and I’m takin’ it.”

  He stared at me, eyes widening, as understanding seeped into his consciousness. The realization that I would leave Bradleyville to follow Danny shook him to the core. He turned away, holding in his hurt. My heart ached with remorse for him. If it weren’t for Danny, maybe I could have loved him.

  “I’m not goin’ to tell Melissa you came. It would only hurt her.”

  “Yeah. Well. Be seein’ you, Celia.” As he crossed the sidewalk, he could not refrain from looking back. Mama drove in from the grocery store as he was leaving and gave me a pointed look.

  October 21

  Dear Danny,

  What do you know, I had a gentleman caller yesterday. Remember good-looking, nice Bobby Delham? Always liked me, hated you. He let me know he’d drop Melissa like a hot potato if I’d just say yes. Mama was all over me about it, telling me I was a fool and that I could learn to love him. First time she’d spoken to me in days ...

  October 26

  Dear Celia,

  I punched his prissy friend Gerald Henley in the nose; I suppose I can come back and punch Bobby. You tell him to stay away. I can’t stand to think of somebody else talking to you about love. No one could love you like I do.

  Ha! I thought, hugging the letter. The wild bird flown knew jealousy, too.

  For Christmas Kevy got a new bike, slate blue and shiny. Throwing it on the melted snow of our lawn one Saturday in January, he fell into a porch chair next to me, sweat vaporizing off his head. “Waitin’ for the mail?”

  I nodded, shivering.

  He looked at me pensively. “I miss Danny. You gonna see him again?”

  I hesitated. “Sometime.”

  “When? How?”

  “What are you, Mama’s little spy?”

  Kevy looked hurt. “No. I never told her nothin’ before, did I, when y’all were kissin’ at the river.”

  I reared back in my seat. “How would you know?”

  “Because I peeked one time.”

  My mouth fell open. “Kevy!”

  “Well, it was just once. I sorta got tired a fishin’. All’s I did was sneak up and get a good look at y’all, then sneak back.”

  “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “Well, I didn’t tell anybody. Especially Mama.”

  She would have killed me. “Kevy, you’re sweet for not tellin’. But you never should have sneaked in the
first place.”

  “I was just curious, that’s all.” He wiggled his shoulders. We were silent for a moment. “I kinda like somebody, too.”

  “You like a girl, Kevy! Who?”

  “Promise you won’t tell?” I nodded. “Cindy Halloway.”

  “Ah,” I said, picturing a petite blond with brown eyes. I thought it was cute, Kevy liking a girl. Then it struck me that Kevy was the same age Danny was when he started liking me. Eleven. I stared at my brother. Such a kid. “Well, little brother, you just be nice to her. Maybe she’ll like you back.”

  An exaggerated shrug. “Maybe. Well. I’m gonna ride down to Reid’s house.”

  Watching him race off, I realized with a pang how much I would miss him when I left Bradleyville.

  Dear Celia,

  Anew ship came in yesterday, the fanciest yet. It’s with Triton Cruise Lines. Mama teased me, saying wouldn’t a honeymoon on that be fine. It must cost a fortune.

  Money is real tight and I worry about you coming. It’s very hard here, lots of crime, people robbed and killed. Mama and I wanted to be away from Daddy; now we’re afraid for her safety all over again. A woman can’t even be on the streets alone. Miami may have an ocean but it’s far from paradise. I dream about finding our ocean, Celia; my heart is heavy here. Especially without you. I just keep trying to keep my eyes on God, like your granddad said. I love you.

  I read the letter over and over, despairing that Danny’s dreams of freedom in Miami were slipping through his fingers like sand. Could Mama be right about Danny’s wanderlust? About him breaking my heart? No, I told myself, he loves me. Even so, he had left. Where next for you, Danny, I wondered, crying in my room, while I sit here missing you, the ocean waves mere paintings on my walls? Many nights I agonized over whether to tell him about my inheritance. But Granddad was right; Danny had his pride. So I wrote only of my love.

  Wait for me, Danny, I cried to myself. Wait for me.

  February 16