Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  March 16

  The Triton’s back again. That same girl was on it—Rachel. I don’t know if I told you about her before. Her daddy owns the cruise lines. Anyhow, she says she thinks I could get a job on the ship! Sailing to the Caribbean Islands! And it pays a lot more! I told her I wouldn’t leave Mama, but she says maybe Mama can work on board, too. Wouldn’t that be something, Celia, me in the islands! When you come, maybe you could work, too, if you didn’t mind, and we could all sail on it. The beaches aren’t crowded, I hear, and there’s alot less crime. Maybe there I’ll find our ocean. Can’t wait till you come. I love you.

  I hated that letter. My caged bird freed was flying. He’d promised it wouldn’t happen, he’d promised. Even with our love, how could I compete with endless sand and a glittering horizon? If it weren’t the beaches, it might be the girls who’d steal him away. I prayed and prayed at night, begging God not to let that happen. Don’t forget me, Danny, I wrote him. We’ll be together soon.

  On April 4 he wrote that Rachel was back at port, declaring that the Caribbean was glorious—white beaches and blue water. I want so much to see it! he added. I dream about having you there with me. It’s less than three months now. I can’t wait!

  A week after my eighteenth birthday Danny wrote that their apartment had been robbed. He’d carelessly left a week’s pay in his dresser, and his mama lost a small radio. Danny was glad he’d had my locket with him.

  I want to leave here so badly. I hate the place. Crime and noise everywhere. I want lots of quiet beaches. With you.

  In mid April he ecstatically informed me that Rachel had returned and had arranged a job for him and his mama.

  God’s really watching over us. We leave in two days, probably by the time you read this. Rachel says we’ll stop at lots of beautiful ports. I’ll find the beach for us, Celia. Keep writing; I’ll read all your letters when I get back in a couple weeks. I love you and miss you.

  Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. I pictured a rich girl with Mary Lee’s face, long legs, red lips. Balling up the letter, I flung it against my wall.

  I told myself it didn’t matter, that Rachel was merely to Danny as Bobby was to me—an admirer who would never possess the object of her affection. I told myself Danny loved me more than oceans and that if money weren’t a problem, he wouldn’t have gone. If he only knew about my inheritance. When he returned to Miami, he could go back to his old job, wait it out until I got there. The extra pay wouldn’t be so important. And Rachel could sail on her way.

  For two days I agonized over my promise to Granddad. He would understand, I told myself; he’d agree with me under these circumstances. I had to tell Danny about my inheritance. I had to give him a way to leave the higher paying job. Finally I made my choice. I prayed that if Granddad was watching from heaven, he’d forgive me. Then I wrote Danny and told him.

  April 27

  Dear Celia,

  My head’s about to bust with so many thoughts! The Caribbean trip was incredible. Mama was in heaven. And now to hear you have so much money! Be sure you want me, Celia, before you bring such a fortune. I wouldn’t want you to regret it. I’m supposed to provide for you, and now you’ll be providing for me. I need your respect, Celia; promise me I’ll still have it.

  One thing, though. I’m not going to go back to my old job like you suggested. If I continue to sail until you come, we’ll have even more money. Besides, I like this new job so much better. We go again tomorrow. Back in two weeks. I love you.

  We. Had Danny been thinking of his mama when he used that word? Or Rachel?

  Granddad had been right. And my vow to him had been broken for nothing. The words of Danny’s letter blurred.

  chapter 48

  Mama had watched the letters arrive all year in silence. Sometimes I wondered why she let me have them. Perhaps she finally realized she could not control my heart. But when the flow slackened while Danny was at sea, she couldn’t keep the smugness from her face. I would flip disconsolately through the mail on the dining room table, her eyes on my back.

  “Celia,” she demanded one afternoon, “what are you plannin’ to do after graduating?”

  I shrugged. “Baby-sit again in the summer.”

  Her mouth pinched. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.”

  She recoiled. “You’re a fool, Celia, if you’re thinkin’ of taking that money to that boy. He’d just squander it traveling around.”

  I couldn’t stand hearing her call my Danny “that boy.” “You’re the fool, Mama. You don’t know anything.”

  Her face flushed crimson. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

  “I dare because you talk to me of Danny, when you don’t know him at all!”

  “I know what he is, Celia! He’s just like your granddad. Independent. Searchin’ for adventure. I tried to warn you and you wouldn’t listen. Don’t give your money to him! That money came from your great-granddad, who built the mill; that’s how far back in our family it goes. Don’t throw it away.”

  “I don’t plan on throwin’ it away.”

  “Then what are you goin’ to do with it?”

  “None of your business!”

  “Celia!” she exploded. “Go to your room!”

  “Mama, I’m eighteen years old now,” I hissed. “You can’t order me to my room.”

  Her palm hit the table with a smack. “You’re still my daughter and you still live under my roof! I told you to go. Now get out of my sight!”

  And I did, raging to myself that soon I’d get out of her sight, all right—get out and never come back.

  May 5

  Well, I’m back in the Caribbean! This port is just as beautiful the second time around. But I need you so bad, Celia. I sat on the beach last night wishing so much you were here.

  But anyway, I want to tell you something really exciting. Triton also has ships that go to the Greek Isles. Rachel says she can get me and Mama on one of those ships soon, plus she can get a job for you. I know you have money but we should save it for a house later. Would you mind working on a ship for awhile? Just imagine it, you and me in Greece! We’ll find our ocean together after all.

  I love you. One more month. Only one more month! I can hardly wait.

  Miami. The Caribbean. Now Greece. Danny seemed to have completely forgotten about our plans to work part-time and go to college. Sailing to Greece with him did sound wonderful, but I couldn’t even daydream about it. Not when I knew that girl Rachel would be on board. I didn’t trust her for a minute. The more I thought about it, the more that fear consumed me. I tried to pray but couldn’t, convinced that God was punishing me for my unwillingness to reach out to Mama. What if she had been right all along? Danny wanted me; Danny wanted the world. Which did he want most?

  Two days later I received a letter from another port. The letter that would change my life. Clutching it to my chest, I headed for my room, completely unprepared for the words that would pierce my heart.

  May 7

  Dear Celia,

  Writing this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Especially after my promises to your granddad and God and you. But I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ve worn out my knees crying for God’s forgiveness. I don’t think he’ll give it to me until I’ve asked yours as well. You should know the truth about me, especially since you’re bringing so much money. It’s only right to give you time to change your mind.

  There’s no good way to say it. I’ve been with a girl. Rachel. I never meant to. I don’t love her and I want nothing else to do with her, ever. It just happened, Celia, that’s all. We were on a beach at night, and I was wishing I was with you, thinking about our wedding night.

  I’m dying, telling you this. Only a month to go, and I’ve gone and shamed myself like my daddy never could. Can you ever forgive me? I pray to God that you will. And will you still come? I’m going crazy waiting for your answer. Please say yes. I love you.

  After the third rea
ding I lay staring at the ceiling, Danny’s letter having slipped from my hand onto the carpet. At first I felt nothing. Then I shook with rage and jealousy, burying my face in my pillow to cover the racking sobs. How could he? Our love had been so special, so perfect. We’d saved ourselves for our marriage, knowing it was the right thing to do. Now our wedding night could never be the same. Danny, I cried, you’ve taken what we could have had, white and beautiful, and trashed it, dragging it through the mud. I thought I would die. I sobbed all night, gasping, until the tears dried up. And I shook my fist at God, long and hard. Where had he been that night on the beach? How could he let this happen?

  I did not attend school the next morning, did not venture from my room all day. “I’m sick,” I called to Mama from behind my door, picturing her face, thinking surely she’d last seen me with a letter in my hand. But you were wrong after all, weren’t you, Mama? I raged inwardly. Danny hadn’t broken my heart by skipping off to distant lands. He’d broken it in the arms of someone else.

  All that day and the next I did not eat. Daddy knocked on my door, begging to come in. “I can’t talk, Daddy,” I said, choking on tears. “Please.” And dear Kevy tried and tried until I finally relented on the second day, sobbing against his thin, boyish arms.

  Finally I was spent. I could feel no more, cry no more. I stopped railing at God; I didn’t want to talk to him at all. An eerie calm settled over me, spreading like a thick blanket that enveloped me. And from somewhere deep within, somewhere dark and dismal, a new emotion arose. It seeped into my heart and mind; it fisted my hands and stiffened my legs. I didn’t even try to push it away; instead I mucked in it until all other thought fled from me. Consciously I swept God aside, telling myself that he’d done little for me anyway. Then, free to do as I pleased, I planned my revenge. Not once did I stop to consider that I would hurt innocent people.

  That evening, with purpose, I took a long bath. Naturally, I dressed in what I’d worn my last night with Danny. The blue top, the skirt and sandals. Ignoring my mother’s hawklike expression, the curious stares of my brother and daddy, I marched to the phone and dialed Bobby Delham’s number. He needed no prompting, this young man of whom my parents approved. “I’m goin’ out,” I informed them. Mama stared at me, astounded, a cold light dawning in her eyes.

  I didn’t lead Bobby to the oak tree canopy; that I could not do. I guided him instead to the rutted road where Mary Lee had taken Danny and me forever ago. We sat in the car, waiting for dark, and I watched him watch me with disbelieving anticipation. I did not care that I was about to destroy him, hoping only to destroy the one who had hurt me so much. When night fell, I urged Bobby into the field, where I seduced him, the boyfriend of my best friend. Even as he poured out I-love-you’s, I felt nothing.

  There is an emptiness worse than being alone.

  Within two days a remorse-stricken Bobby would confess his sin to Melissa and stop dating her. “He loves you,” she would whisper bitterly. “You ruined him for me. You, of all people.”

  When I got back home that night, clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled, Mama was still up. She took one look at me, at the blend of defiance and guilt on my face, and knew. I tried to slide past her but she caught my arm. “What have you done?” she hissed.

  “Nothin’.” My voice was flat.

  Her fingers dug into my skin. “Tell me it’s not what it looks like, Celia.”

  Not a word from me.

  “Why?” she demanded. “How could you? After the way you’ve been raised!”

  I wrenched free.

  “What are we supposed to do now? The whole town’ll know and you don’t even care. Is this what Danny’s done to you? Is this what he’s taught you?”

  With a sob I fled to my room, my soul blackened and sick to the core. I could not answer her question. Because the answer was yes.

  Behind my locked door, hands shaking, I took paper and pen and told Danny everything.

  chapter 49

  May 16

  Dear Celia,

  I am dead inside. I know you did it only to hurt me, as I have hurt you. Now I feel the same pain. Let’s forgive each other and go on. I love you with all my heart. Let’s not do this to each other. You’ll graduate in just two weeks. Come to me, Celia.

  Even as I write this, I feel so mad—madder than I ever was at my daddy. Bobby’s there with you. You’re rich. You two could buy a fancy house, have a good life.

  If you choose that, there will be nothing left for me here. I’ll take that job on the ship to Greece, and when we get there, Mama and I will stay. There’s passage and jobs for us; Rachel has arranged it. There’s a job waiting for you too, if only you’ll come. The ship leaves in three weeks on June 7. Until then I’ll be at port here in Miami. This new job is a chance of a lifetime, and if I don’t hear from you, I’m not going to lose it. But I don’t want to go without you. I want you. Can you hear how bad I feel? God can help us through this if we’ll only forgive each other. Will you forgive me, Celia? Will you forgive yourself? Will you come? Please. We had everything.

  Wasn’t life ironic? Danny and I had made it through three years of Bradleyville’s trying to keep us apart. Now we could finally be together forever, and we were wrenching ourselves from each other as the town never had.

  Looking down the tunnel of months and years, I saw only blackness without Danny. Even with what we’d done to each other, I still viewed my graduation as the birth of my new life. A life with him. We could not be apart. I loved him; he still loved me. We would go on, forgive, maybe someday forget. I didn’t want Bobby. He didn’t want Rachel, however beautiful and rich she might be. He didn’t want Greece. He wanted me.

  May 21

  Dearest Danny,

  I’m coming to you. You’re right; if God can forgive us both, we can surely forgive one another. Please don’t go. Please don’t choose the world over me, even after what I’ve done. What you did with Rachel, you hadn’t planned. What I did with Bobby was intentional. I was terribly wrong. I love you. I know you love me. Write back. Tell me you’ll wait for me, Danny. Tell me exactly where to come. Wait. Please.

  The following afternoon I slipped the letter into the slot at the post office. By the time I received his answer, graduation would be close at hand.

  At school I could not bear to look Bobby Delham in the eye.

  The days were interminable. I waited. People whispered and stared. Mama’s outrage I could handle. Daddy’s drawn face and grief were too much to bear. “You’ve disgraced this family and ruined a good boy,” Mama spat. “The only thing you can do now is marry him quickly.”

  “Leave . . . me . . . alone,” I warned her, deadly quiet.

  Somehow I endured the last two weeks of school. I barely studied for finals. Managed to pass them all. Finally my last day arrived. But I hadn’t heard from Danny. Surely with such an important letter, he wouldn’t have lost a day in writing back. Danny, Danny, I cried to myself, standing on the sidewalk in front of the school building, a year ago we planned our night together, right here. Where are you, Danny? Why haven’t you written?

  I refused to attend my own graduation ceremony. Once again I could not eat. Sleep was beyond my grasp. Some dreadful sense told me that Danny had changed his mind about forgiving me. Unlike his, my sin had been so calculated and vindictive. And surely Rachel was there with him, sweet-talking, with more money than I’d ever have. At night I cried out to Jesus, pleading for him to do something. If he would just put me and Danny back together, I cajoled, I would serve him the rest of my life. I’d never, never take my eyes off him again for as long as I lived.

  June 6 came. No letter. June 7—the day the ship sailed to Greece. Deep in my heart I knew Danny was on it, but still I clung desperately to hope. I thought of taking off for Miami to find him, just in case he’d stayed. But Miami was a big place. What if I couldn’t find him and meanwhile his letter arrived? We could miss each other completely.

  I began daily baby-sitting of the Hard
ing children, a smile pasted on my face, my heart brittle, vacant. Finally the letter came. It was sitting on the dining room table when I got home from work, the small white envelope that would seal my life. Mama hovered as I snatched it up, a small gasp parting my lips. Not until I was in my room did I notice there was no return address. With pounding heart and shaking fingers I tore it open.

  Celia,

  We’ve arrived in Greece, Mama and me. And Rachel.

  I’m so sorry. I loved you with my life.

  Danny

  chapter 50

  In the days that followed I remember only darkness. Scenes of those days flit through my head like phantoms, shadowing despair. Somehow I managed to keep my job at the Hardings’, sitting stupefied on their couch while the kids romped. In the evenings I slumped, immobilized, on my bed. Daddy knocked on my door many times but I would not let him in. Kevy grew constantly anxious, upset by the tomblike aura of our home. He tried his best to console me, to calm Mama, and failed at both. As for Mama, I did not think the rift between us could be worse. For in my grief over Danny, I could only lash out at her rebukes, full of my own hatred and spite. Yet if ever I needed her arms around me, it was then. But she offered no consolation, wrapped in her own pain and humiliation over my act with Bobby. I would not have guessed she had a heart to hurt. She seemed no more than a cube of ice, dripping with disdain.

  Every moment was plagued with wondering how Danny could have left me. I reeled from blaming myself to blaming Mama to blaming God himself. God had betrayed me—not only with Danny, not only in failing to answer Granddad’s biggest prayer, but in my very birth, for he’d placed me in the arms of an indifferent mother. Even Granddad’s death seemed a relief to me then, for he would have been so bitterly disappointed in me.

  You would think that I had learned enough. That in such grief my rebelliousness finally would have been broken and I would turn to God for rescue. Instead I shook my fist at the heavens, spitting in the very face of God. Where are your promises to Granddad now? I stormed. Where’s your healing for Mama and me?