Coffee Will Make You Black

by April Sinclair

  “There are far too many empty chairs in here.” Roland pointed around the study hall. “Negroes have fallen asleep, they think the battle has been won. They think that the struggle is over. But black people have only just begun to fight!”

  “Right on! Brother Roland! Right on!” people shouted.

  “There is a war going on, and I’m not talking about the one in Vietnam. There is another war going on, y’all. It’s the war for political and economic justice! It’s the war against poverty, racism, and police brutality. We can’t afford to be complacent, y’all. Just because we have a black principal, a black vice principal, black guidance counselors, and we sing ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing’ at assemblies, doesn’t mean the battle is won!”

  “Preach, brother, preach!”

  “Let’s finish the job and get us a black nurse,” a sister shouted.

  “Shantelle, I’m going to take that up right now.”

  Did he say Shantelle? I looked at the light-skinned girl, whose hair wasn’t even nappy enough to wear in an afro. Sometimes they were the most militant. I glanced over at David. He gave me a ridiculous grin and hunched his shoulders.

  I listened as Shantelle took the floor.

  “Not everybody wants a white woman taking their temperatures, feeling their foreheads.”

  “For real,” a girl with a big ’fro agreed.

  “I propose that as Afro-American people we demand someone who can understand our medical as well as cultural needs,” Shantelle continued. “We need to push until we get a black nurse.”

  “I heard that,” several people agreed, clapping.

  “Any further discussion?” Roland asked.

  “I have something to say,” I spoke up, surprised that I could find my voice. I glanced at David. He pretended to be praying.

  “I recognize Sister Stevenson.” Having Roland smile at me and call me Sister Stevenson gave me a boost. I knew that my brown color and afro also gave me a certain amount of credibility.

  I cleared my throat. “I signed that petition way back, because I wanted change. I’m still for change, as long as that change is for the better. But since I signed that petition two years ago, I’ve gotten to know Nurse Horn. Now I’m her student helper. And Nurse Horn is somebody who cares.” My voice almost cracked. I looked around the room. I seemed to have everyone’s attention. “I believe that Nurse Horn would go beyond the call of duty for any of us. I know what her support has meant to me.”

  I tugged at my teke. “In my opinion, getting rid of Nurse Horn would be a loss, not a gain. That’s all I have to say.”

  The room was quiet.

  “What you expect her to say. She ain’t nothing but Nurse Horn’s flunky!” a girl named Brenda whispered loudly.

  My throat felt tight and my stomach churned.

  “I’ve known Sister Stevenson since jumpstreet. And she ain’t nobody’s flunky,” Roland said firmly.

  I let out a breath. The girl looked embarrassed.

  “I’ve always known that Sister Stevenson had a strong mind and I’ve always suspected that she had a warm heart. Today, she proved my suspicions to be true. I don’t know about y’all but if Sister Horn …”

  “Sister Horn?” said a brother in dark glasses who looked like H. Rap Brown.

  “Well, if Malcolm could go from calling them blue-eyed devils to calling some of them sisters and brothers, I can afford to slip every once in a while. Anyway, if Nurse Horn is all right by Sister Stevenson, she’s all right by me.”

  “Any more discussion?”

  “I don’t have anything against Nurse Horn personally,” Shantelle explained, looking at me apologetically. “I don’t really know her. I just thought if everything was equal we should have a black nurse.”

  “Your point is well taken, but everything isn’t equal,” Roland said firmly. “We already got Nurse Horn, we know she’s good. Who’s to say that the next person we might get would be half as good, just because she’s black?”

  “That’s true,” Shantelle agreed.

  I could’ve sworn I heard David breathe a sigh of relief. I relaxed. I’d won the battle.

  I smiled at Roland. There was something really special about him. He smiled back at me. It warmed my heart. But I wondered if he’d still call me “sister” if I turned out to be a freak.

  After the meeting ended, I got up enough nerve to knock on Nurse Horn’s door. It was the end of the day, so I figured she’d be alone. I was afraid that she wouldn’t want anything to do with me on accounta I’d called her a freak. But I needed to talk to her, I felt that she was my last hope to be understood. My heart was in my mouth as my knuckles tapped against the wooden door.

  There was no answer. I knocked harder; my heart beat faster. Still no answer.

  I tried the door; it was locked.

  I rushed toward the main office to see if Nurse Horn had checked out.

  My heart skipped a beat, there was Nurse Horn in her London Fog coat in front of her mailbox. I stood staring through the glass part of the office door. Nurse Horn turned around and headed toward me. My eyes fell to the floor. Suddenly she was standing in front of me. She was quiet. I was afraid to look up. My eyes were glued to the tan and brown floor tiles.

  “Stevie, is there something you would like to say?”

  “Uh, I’m sorry about what I said the other day.” I looked up.

  I moved out of the way to let Brother Kambui by. “About calling you a freak, and all,” I whispered.

  “Stevie, I care about you and I want what’s best for you. I really don’t have any other motives.”

  I turned and faced Nurse Horn. “Are you still my friend?”

  “I’d like to be, Stevie.”

  I felt an urgent need to talk to Nurse Horn about everything. Stuff felt ready to bubble out of me like Buckingham Fountain.

  “Nurse Horn, can we talk?”

  She hesitated. “I have to run by the cleaners before they close. I also need to go by the Coop Food Store. My cupboards are pretty bare.”

  I sighed.

  “You want to come with me? If you don’t mind going to Hyde Park, I can drive you home.”

  “Sure, I love Hyde Park.”

  “It’s such a nice day. How would you like to talk while we walk along the lake?”

  “Cool. Are you going to take the Drive?” I asked, trying to sound hip. It was much nicer to take Lake Shore Drive than the Dan Ryan Expressway.

  “I always take the Drive; it relaxes my mind.”

  I leaned against the bucket seats while Nurse Horn put her cleaning in the trunk of her car.

  She slid into the driver’s seat.

  “You know, I’ve never walked along the lake before,” I said.

  “No?”

  “I’ve been to Rainbow Beach; I’ve passed by the lake in a car. But I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who walked along the lake.”

  “I do it all the time in the summer. My uncle even has a boat out there. I’ve been sailing on it.”

  “Wow.”

  Nurse Horn and I strolled along Lake Michigan as the wind gently tugged at our coats. It was peaceful. There were a few bike riders, some people walking dogs, and a runner.

  “I guess I don’t know where to start. My mind is a mess. My biggest battles in life used to be with my mother. Those were nothing compared to this.”

  “What is it, Stevie? You sound like you lost your best friend.”

  “I may have.” Not to mention my boyfriend, I thought. “Uh … I did it with Sean, sort of,” I added.

  “Well, you sounded pretty determined. I hope that you used protection.” Nurse Horn looked me in the eye, but I couldn’t tell if she was funny or not.

  “We did. I even got my period yesterday.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “I didn’t like it. It hurt. I told Sean to stop.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes, but he copped an attitude.”

  “Stevie, I can understand why h
e would’ve been frustrated. That’s one reason why it’s so important for girls to wait until they’re ready. But so many of you seem to be in such a big rush these days.”

  “Is it normal not to like it, for it to hurt?”

  “Stevie, some married women even consider sex a chore. A teenage girl who enjoys sexual intercourse the first time is the exception. I had a girl say to me once, ‘I hope having a baby doesn’t hurt as much as sex did.’”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Nurse Horn, me and Sean sort of broke up. He told me he was going to take somebody to his prom who was willing to give him some.”

  “You don’t need that kind of pressure.”

  “That’s true.” I decided to put all of my cards on the table with Nurse Horn.

  “Nurse Horn, I think there might be something wrong with me, though. I might be a disgrace to humanity.”

  “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

  I wondered if Nurse Horn was just playing dumb or if she really was dumb as a doorknob.

  “You don’t understand. I’m not normal.”

  “Not normal how?”

  “I have unnatural desires!”

  “Stevie, would you like to sit on that bench over there?”

  I nodded, noticing how wobbly my legs felt.

  “Honey, tell me what’s bothering you,” she asked after we sat down.

  “I’ve daydreamed about you more than Sean,” I blurted out. “I fantasize about you holding me, hugging me against your terry-cloth bathrobe, telling me I have potential.”

  “That’s really sweet, Stevie.”

  “Sweet? You don’t think I’m sick?”

  “No, I think you’re wonderful.”

  “My favorite fantasy is about you rescuing me from drowning and giving me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

  “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “But only because I’m not that good of a swimmer,” Nurse Horn said with a smile.

  I looked out on the blue water. “But homosexuality is a sickness. It’s a sin, too.”

  “Not all psychiatrists agree that it’s a sickness. And the God I believe in is compassionate and merciful and cares more about how we treat each other than about who we love.”

  “I never thought about it that way before. But, Nurse Horn, I’m afraid of ending up without any friends, being an outcast. I want to have a normal life. I want to go to my prom next year.”

  “It’s funny, my niece and her friends couldn’t care less about the prom. At her school they might have to cancel it because of lack of interest.”

  “Really? Where does your niece go to school?”

  “San Francisco.”

  “Oh, no wonder.”

  “I don’t think you will end up without friends. If you stick with being Stevie, you’ll always have a friend. And as cute as you are, I suspect that some nice boy will ask you to the prom next year.”

  “You think I’m cute?”

  “I think you’re very attractive.”

  “Thanks.” I couldn’t help but smile. “But what if I’m not normal? What dude would want to go to the prom with me if I’m not willing to give it up?”

  “Stevie, having sexual intercourse is not a prerequisite for being asked to a prom. Nor for having a boyfriend, for that matter.”

  “You mean they’re not all dogs. My mother says all men are dogs; some are just more doggish than others.”

  “Well, maybe that was your mother’s experience. It doesn’t have to be yours.”

  I leaned down and picked up a rock and threw it in the water.

  “Honey, did it ever occur to you that your feelings might not be all that sexual?”

  Nurse Horn had called me “honey” again. I threw another rock. I felt a warm glow as it made a splash.

  “Not all attraction is sexual, you know,” she continued.

  “It’s not?”

  “No, it’s not.” Nurse Horn picked up a rock and threw it. “Do you know the difference between sexual feelings and affectionate feelings?” Nurse Horn threw pretty well for a girl.

  I’d just assumed that because my knees got weak and I couldn’t wait to be up in Nurse Horn’s face my feelings were weird. I hunched my shoulders and let Nurse Horn have the floor. “Your fantasies sound pretty tame and innocent to me. Don’t be so quick to label yourself. It’s quite common for adolescents to develop crushes on teachers and other adults they admire of both sexes.”

  “Are you saying that I might not be a freak, that I might just be an adolescent? Is that your theory, Dr. Horn?”

  “I’m saying that your feelings are natural and common and not necessarily all that sexual.”

  “So, Dr. Horn, what do you think? I’m just looking for a mother?”

  “I didn’t say that. But sure, maybe. Aren’t we all looking for a little mothering?”

  “Even you?”

  Nurse Horn nodded. “Yes, even me.”

  “Yeah, I guess we all are, huh.”

  “Stevie, because you didn’t enjoy intercourse the first time doesn’t mean you never will. And because you have a schoolgirl crush on me doesn’t make you a homosexual. Okay? It doesn’t mean that you are heterosexual either. Be patient. Relax, don’t try to prove anything either way. See what happens. You’re so young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

  A weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt closer to Nurse Horn than ever. I took my coat off and laid it on the bench. I ran in the breezy sunshine and did a cartwheel at the water’s edge.

  Then Nurse Horn and I sat on our bench and stared at the pale blue water that stretched as far as the eye could see. No wonder Kevin thought it was an ocean.

  “Nurse Horn, were you this mixed up when you were sixteen?”

  Nurse Horn nodded. “Stevie, if you’re not mixed up at sixteen, there is probably something wrong with you.”

  “I suppose I’ll have it all together by the time I’m thirty, huh?”

  “I’m pushing thirty and I don’t think I have it all together.”

  “You’re that old?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “You don’t have it all together yet?”

  “Not by a long shot. Stevie, it’s like peeling an onion, there’s always another layer.”

  An old, well-dressed white woman with a small, ugly dog leaned over our bench.

  She looked directly at Nurse Horn as if I were invisible. “It’s so wonderful to see you donating your time to help an underprivileged child. My daughter teaches the culturally deprived.” The woman smiled at Nurse Horn and pulled her dog along.

  Nurse Horn looked embarrassed. She was turning red.

  “Culturally deprived! Underprivileged! Humph,” I shouted.

  Nurse Horn groaned. “She’s the one who’s culturally deprived.”

  I looked down at my Keds that Mama had been after me to wash. “Do I look underprivileged?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “No, of course not. If I had been sitting here with a white girl, she would’ve never said that.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  I nodded. “What about the Coop?”

  “I’m going to forget about grocery shopping until tomorrow. So come along, you underprivileged child, I’ll buy you some pizza.”

  “Make it deep dish. I’m also culturally deprived.”

  I stood in a pay phone outside the restaurant. “Yeah, Mama, Nurse Horn is treating me to pizza in Hyde Park. Deep-dish, Mama.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “She wanted me to call to see if it was okay. You know, I’m her student helper.”

  “Nurse Horn is white, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Well, don’t act ignorant, remember your table manners.”

  “Mama, we’re having pizza, not filet mignon.”

  “I k
now. But when you’re black, you’re always being judged.”

  “Mama, just put the dishes in the sink, I’ll wash them when I get home.”

  “That’s all right, the boys can wash them.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “The boys can wash the dishes? Do they even know how?”

  “Well, if they don’t, it’s high time they learned. They can’t depend on women to do everything.”

  “Boy, Mama, you sure have changed.”

  “This is a new day, Jean Eloise, it’s nineteen-seventy.”

  “You’re telling me, Mama.”

  “Jean.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Don’t forget to thank Nurse Horn. She doesn’t have to do this. It always pays to show appreciation. You never know when you’ll need a white person.”

  “Okay, bye, Mama.” She was still Mama.

  The joint was jumping when Nurse Horn and I walked in. University of Chicago sweaters were outnumbered by jean jackets, some with peace signs on them. A singer was shouting on the jukebox.

  “Who’s that screaming?” I asked.

  “Janis Joplin.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Yes, I have to admit she’s grown on me.”

  “Oh,” I answered, deciding to give Janis a chance.

  We sat down at one of the little round tables in the dimly lit room. The pizza place reminded me of Italy, even though I’d never been there.

  “Me and Carla fell out because she said that she wouldn’t have anything to do with me if it turned out I was funny,” I confided in Nurse Horn. “I had to read her.”

  “Read her?”

  “Give her a piece of my mind. Tell her off.”

  “Oh.”

  “I told Carla if she couldn’t accept me for who I am, regardless, our friendship was pretty tired.”

  “Tired?”

  “Yeah … sorry, pathetic.”

  “Oh. You never know, Stevie, Carla might end up coming around. You might not be rid of her yet.”