Coffee Will Make You Black

by April Sinclair

  “Me either, Sean.”

  “Stevie, I feel like this English writer Miss Porter told us about in class. I can’t remember the dude’s name, but anyway, he was at a dinner party and he heard this woman say she didn’t care for any gravy. The writer dude said, ‘Madam, I’ve been searching my whole life for someone who dislikes gravy. Let’s swear eternal friendship.’”

  “So I take it you don’t like gravy?” I asked, smiling.

  “Not really. What about you?”

  “I’m not crazy about it either. But I can sho go for some pan drippings.”

  “I heard that!” Sean laughed.

  “So, Stevie, how come you never went out for the girls’ basketball team?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I got into the Drama Club and then I got on the newspaper this year, you know.” I looked into Sean’s dark brown eyes. “It really wouldn’t bother you to have a girlfriend on the basketball team?”

  “No, not so long as she was all woman off the court.” Sean leaned over and covered my mouth with his luscious lips. I liked the taste of his tongue. I wondered what Sean would think if he knew that I daydreamed about Nurse Horn more than him—that my favorite daydream was of Nurse Horn rescuing me from drowning and giving me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. And sometimes I just remembered Nurse Horn hugging me against her terry-cloth bathrobe, telling me that I had potential.

  I kissed Sean back, trying my best to prove to him that I was definitely all woman. Sean’s wet tongue teased my ear, sending shivers through my body.

  “Sean,” I whispered, “I like the way you dribble too, on and off the court.”

  Sean pressed against me and ran his fingers through my natural. I could feel his thing through my jeans. I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to get too excited. Mama said that most boys won’t go any farther than you let them. “It’s up to you not to let them,” she’d warned. I didn’t stop Sean from reaching under my T-shirt and squeezing my breasts through my bra. I didn’t want him to turn off completely. My job was to keep Sean interested without going all the way.

  Sean ran his hand up and down my thighs. I couldn’t help but feel excited. I held my breath while he tugged at my zipper.

  “No, Sean, not here,” I said, as he stroked my panties. “Anybody could come by and see us.”

  I sat up and Sean pulled his hand away and glanced around the deserted street.

  “Stevie, I couldn’t help it,” Sean said hoarsely. “I just got really turned on. You said, Not here, well where? We’ve been going together six months.”

  “I don’t know, Sean. Maybe I’m afraid that once I do it you won’t respect me anymore.”

  “Stevie, I respect the hell outta you now and giving yourself to me could never change that.”

  “I don’t want to end up like Patrice, having to go to a school for unwed mothers. Did you know that by the time she found out she was pregnant Yusef was already going with Gail?”

  “Stevie, Yusef Brown always was a dog.”

  “Well, I tried to tell her that, but Patrice wouldn’t listen.”

  “All Yusef does is hang out on the corner and sell weed.” Sean sighed. “But, Stevie, not all brothers are about nothing. If I messed a girl up, I’d stand by her.”

  “But, Sean, there’s just no way I could get pregnant. It would kill my parents. They’re counting on me. And Mrs. Stuart says, with my grades, even if my SAT scores come back average, I can still get a college scholarship. She says our time has come. I couldn’t face her if I messed up.”

  Sean held my hand. “I heard that, hey, I’m proud of you, baby. I don’t want to be a daddy right now, either. I’m going to Chicago State in the fall, remember? I’ve got dreams, too.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered in Sean’s ear.

  “For what?”

  “For understanding.”

  “Oh.”

  The next morning me and Carla sat on the school’s stone steps and faced a row of fudge-colored buildings. Carla held her big sweater together with one hand as she took a drag off her cigarette. I glanced up at the cloudy morning sky.

  “So finish telling me about you and Seanny last night.”

  “Like I told you, Carla, I felt his thing up against me. And he touched me through my panties.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I told him to stop.”

  “You told him to stop! Why?”

  “You know why, because I’m scared. I can’t come up pregnant.” I tightened the belt on my rain-shine coat. “I finally ended up giving Sean a hand job last night.”

  “Again!” Carla groaned, “I don’t see why you don’t just get on the pill like somebody with some sense.”

  I shrugged. We’d had this conversation before.

  “Stevie, I know Sean is patient, but a man has needs, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “A man is only willing to be frustrated for so long, before he starts looking for a new prom date. Get my drift?”

  “Carla, you don’t understand. Sean is different.”

  Carla blew out smoke. “He ain’t that damn different. He still a man. After a while them milkshakes begin to add up. Then it’s payback time,” Carla added.

  “Carla, I wish it didn’t have to hurt. It’s hard to get excited over something painful.”

  “It don’t be hurtin’ no worser than bad cramps. You done felt them before.”

  “I don’t look forward to cramps, Carla.”

  “Stevie, I got a idea. You smoke you a joint and do it when you high.” Carla exhaled. “You will be feeling no pain then.”

  I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows. “Carla, you get high now?”

  “Damn, Stevie, you lookin’ at me like I said I shot heroin or some shit like that. It’s just a little weed.”

  “You’ve smoked marijuana before! I can’t believe you never told me.”

  “Look, I’ve only done it a few times, once with my sisters and twice with Ivory.”

  Ivory was Carla’s fine yellow nigga, as she put it. He was tall, with a big ’fro and his rap had been so powerful that he’d stolen her away from Tyrone. Me and Mama had run into Carla and Ivory in K mart. Mama had taken one look at his lime-colored clothes and big hat and decided Ivory was about nothing. I had finally managed to convince Mama that Ivory’s pants were avocado, but she still insisted that the “negro” was no good.

  “Well, how was it?”

  “It was cool, you get the munchies, you wanna eat a bunch of shit. And shit be funnier than hell.”

  “Wow, did you do it with Ivory when you were high?”

  “Yeah,” Carla exhaled.

  “How was it?”

  “Hot! Ain’t nothing better than being high as a kite and getting it at the same time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been high and I’d never gotten it. I tried to picture it in my mind as the bell rang.

  We were in gym class, jumping over a statue of a horse. Miss Bryant had a girl standing on either side of the horse, just in case. I stood in the line waiting to take my turn. I was still tripping on what Carla had said earlier. I wondered how it felt to be high. I had never even been tipsy. I had drunk a few sips of beer when they’d passed around a can on the bus after the homecoming game last year. That had been it. Maybe I should go ahead and do it with Sean. Carla said it wouldn’t hurt if I was high. Maybe a glass of wine would be enough. Who knows? I might even like it.

  I balled my fists and ran toward the horse. I grabbed each side of the saddle and lifted both of my feet to clear it.

  “Jean, are you all right?”

  When I stopped seeing stars, I recognized Miss Bryant’s thin, worried walnut-colored face.

  “Girl, your feet got caught, you hit your head up underneath on that metal part.” I heard Tanya’s voice. The group of brown faces and blue gym suits were all one blur. My head was swimming.

  “Jean, can you walk to the nurse’s office, or do yo
u need for me to send for Miss Horn?”

  I looked up from the thick cotton mat, unsure where my legs were.

  “She looks monked up.”

  “Maybe her brain is damaged, huh, Miss Bryant?”

  “She should sue the school.”

  “You mean the Board of Education, girl.”

  “Quiet, girls.”

  “Miss Bryant, you want me to go get Nurse Horn?”

  “Yes, Rosita, ask her to come right away.”

  I heard footsteps and looked up.

  I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Nurse Horn looked like one of the angels on the stained-glass window at my church. She felt the bump on my forehead and frowned. She explained, that, no, I hadn’t lost my memory like the dude on TV. There were some sighs of disappointment and this one fool kept asking me what I’d eaten for breakfast. “Raisin Bran,” I answered, as Nurse Horn put her arm around my shoulder and walked me out of the gym.

  The cot had never felt more comfortable. Nurse Horn had propped two flat pillows under my head. She sat in a chair next to me, talking softly.

  “Jean, I think you’re going to be all right, but you should go to your doctor and have your head examined.”

  “Have my head examined.” I smiled.

  “Yes, just to be safe. Jean, all kidding aside, do get checked. You’re starting to get two black eyes.”

  I sat up. “Two black eyes!”

  “Don’t get excited. Here, take a look.” Nurse Horn walked over to her desk and returned with a large face mirror.

  I stared at my reflection. My forehead looked like a cone and I had a wide black circle under each eye. It was like I’d been worked over by the mob.

  “I can’t believe I look this bad!”

  “Just goes to show you, looks can go just like that.” Nurse Horn popped her fingers and smiled. “Well, how do you feel?”

  I tried to look as pitiful as possible, I wanted every ounce of sympathy I could get out of Nurse Horn. “My head hurts and I’m still a little dizzy.”

  “Well, the aspirin I gave you should help. I’ll keep you down here for the rest of the afternoon. I want you to see a doctor tomorrow and maybe you’ll be well enough to return to school on Monday.”

  “I don’t really have a doctor. I’ll have to go to the clinic.”

  “That should be fine.” Nurse Horn looked out the window. “It’s starting to rain.”

  “April showers bring May flowers,” I mumbled.

  “Jean, you haven’t been down here since the first snowfall, remember?”

  “I know. Who woulda thought it would wind up being a blizzard, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “My cramps haven’t been bad lately. I took your advice.”

  “You’ve been staying out of that ocean?” Nurse Horn asked.

  “So far, and I’ve been eating less junk food and exercising more.”

  “That’s good, I’m glad. I’m sorry that you’re hurt, but it is nice seeing you. I guess I’ve missed lecturing you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Nurse Horn.” Seeing her in the hallways every now and then hadn’t been enough.

  “Well, you can always stick your head in and say, ‘hi,’ you know.”

  “You mean you want to see me in sickness and in health?”

  “Sure. I certainly don’t want you to develop into a hypochondriac, Jean.”

  I smiled. I was glad she wanted to see me.

  “Do you prefer to be called Stevie or Jean?”

  “My friends call me Stevie.”

  “Well, I’d like to be your friend. So I’ll call you Stevie, if that’s all right?”

  “Please do.”

  “Is there anyone who can come get you so you don’t have to walk home today?”

  “No. My father has the car and he’s at work. Sean might be able to get his brother to give me a ride.”

  “If not, I can drive you home. It might be pouring by three-thirty.”

  I swallowed. Had Nurse Horn said she would drive me home? I could ride in her ’67 Mustang with her! I forgot my pain for a minute.

  “On second thought, I believe Sean told me Brian’s car is in the shop. It’s getting tuned up or something,” I lied.

  “Well, that settles it, then. I’ll give you a lift.”

  I had no intention of arguing with her.

  The doctor shone a flashlight in my eyes and told me to take some aspirin for pain. That had been it. Daddy said the school should pay my clinic bill, but Mama said it wasn’t worth the red tape to try to collect ten dollars. They’d argued back and forth at the dinner table. It was settled when Mama sent me to get her checkbook. Of course, my brothers teased me no end about my shiners. And they were forever begging me to take off my sunglasses.

  A week later Carla and I were at my locker.

  “You think I still need my sunglasses?”

  Carla shook her head. “Not unlessen you just want to look cool.”

  Sean walked toward us. “Hey, Stevie, let’s say we check out White Castle ninth period? They gotta special going, ten burgers for a buck.”

  “I wish I could, Sean, but I’m booked.”

  “Booked? You gotta new nigger or something?” Carla cut in. Sean smiled but he looked worried.

  “No, I’ve got to help Nurse Horn.”

  Carla shook her head at me before rushing away to catch up with Ivory.

  “Help Nurse Horn? Help her do what?”

  “Different stuff, Sean, file, type, clean up, whatever. I’m her student helper now.”

  “How did you get stuck with that?”

  “I had to tell Nurse Horn what the doctor said. And while I was in her office, Barbara Taylor was in there.”

  “So.”

  “Anyway, Barbara was telling Nurse Horn that she couldn’t be her helper anymore, accounta she’s the new captain of the girls’ basketball team, and they’re in the finals and all.”

  “So, what’s that got to do with you?”

  “So I asked Nurse Horn if I could be her new helper. And she said, ‘Great idea.’”

  Sean frowned, “Why do you have to help her ninth period? Why would you want to be tied up at the end of the day?”

  “Because that’s when she needs me. Earlier she’s more likely to have somebody sick in there.”

  “What if I need you?”

  “Sean, you’re being silly. You go to swim-team practice three times a week. You play basketball during most of lunch period.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Well, I need service points for the Junior Honor Society. Helping Nurse Horn two measly periods a week will cover it.”

  “I forgot about your needing service points.”

  “Sean, we can go to White Castle tomorrow.”

  “Stevie, tomorrow it will be too late. This is a one-day sale,” Sean grumbled.

  That’s just too bad, I thought to myself.

  chapter 21

  I knocked on Nurse Horn’s door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  I was surprised to see her pacing in her white pants uniform. I just sat down on the cot and watched Nurse Horn do her thing.

  “I came to this school because I wanted to make a difference. I could’ve been a nurse in a suburban school where everybody’s Dad wore a suit and tie to work and their mothers all played bridge and tennis,” she said, continuing to pace. “But I would’ve been bored to tears.”

  “Nurse Horn, are you through talking to yourself?”

  “I’m sorry, I just had to let off some steam.”

  “Why?”

  “I saw this semester’s dropout list. Your name wasn’t on it, but I recognized quite a few.”

  “Whose names are on it?”

  “Never mind, they’re just wasting their lives.”

  Nurse Horn faced me with her arms folded. “Stevie, I know that you’re not getting a first-rate education here.”

  “You mean I’m not being prepared for Vassar?”
I asked, looking down at my bucks.

  “Don’t get me wrong. We have some fine, dedicated teachers here. But even the best teachers can get worn down by overcrowded classrooms, a lack of supplies, poor equipment, not to mention the discipline problems. I know that you guys don’t have the best shot. But it’s the only shot you’ve got. And you need a high school diploma just to survive these days.”

  “Nurse Horn, Brother Kambui says, ‘White people are raised to live, but black people are raised to survive.’”

  “I don’t care what Brother Kambui says, I care what you say, Stevie. I know that any black person who wants to get ahead is up against it. I’d be naïve to think otherwise. But the question is whether you’re going to let racism stop you.”

  I looked up at Nurse Horn. “Twenty years ago my grandmother was in Gainesville, Florida, cleaning toilets that she couldn’t even use. Today, she owns Mother Dickens’ Fried Chicken Stand and she’s a success. And when my mother was the only black teller at her bank’s downtown branch, people avoided her window. But eventually her coworkers voted her teller of the month. Now she’s a loan representative,” I said proudly.

  I stood up and folded my arms. “My grandmother didn’t let racism stop her, my mother didn’t let racism stop her. And I’m damn sure not going to let racism stop me, either! Now, does that answer your question, Nurse Horn?”

  Nurse Horn nodded and walked over to the sink and filled the teapot.

  “I’m sorry I had to curse,” I said.

  “To Be Young, Gifted, and Black Is Where It’s At!” We yelled and waved our fists. I took my bow with the rest of the Drama Club, ending our “To Make a Poet Black” Assembly.

  “The Drama Club peed, girl! Y’all got down!” Carla stretched her hand out and I gave her five as we headed out of the auditorium.

  “Right on, Sisters! Power to the People!” Roland greeted us with a raised fist at the door.

  “Right on!” Me and Carla answered, raising our fists too.

  “Who would’ve thought Roland Anderson would have become a tam-wearing, fist-waving black militant?” I asked Carla.

  “Who would’ve thought he’d grow some behind?” Carla shouted above the noise in the crowded hallway.

  I laughed.

  “Stevie, come have a smoke with me.”