FINALLY, ONLY THE routine dust came to settle on the flat. I had cleaned up everything that hinted of before I came. The clean was much appreciated: the windows caught this northern sun. No more dullness, no more dust. Big Jim could locate his socks, mated and folded in his top two bureau drawers. Luke edward did not buy new containers of the same pomade because he couldn’t find what had rolled far back under his bed, and no, he didn’t mind if I used his popsickle-stick lamp. I put it up on the right side of the couch where Big Jim had been sittin when I first come and where I sat in the clean house now.
WHERE I STARTED
THE FIRST DAY I went, Luke edward walked me to school. It was a Monday, round eleven o’clock. I asked him didn’t we need to be round there earlier, and he said since it’s my first day, I might as well be late, cause after this I won’t have no excuse.
Made a little sense, I guess. Luke edward says a lot a different things that somewhere buried in them have truth. He made me wrinkle my forehead, tryina take apart what he just said and find the place in it for what I believe; or just the same, find the place in it where he turned wrong, so I could be clear where I didn’t want to go. So, my first day at school started about midday, on account a Luke edward’s way with the clock. I was made to stand in the front a the classroom while the teacher wrote my name on the last line in her class book, and then had me turn and say my name out loud to the class. She had me take a chair in the back, next to Josephus Johnson, the boy who Margarete had invited over to meet me. He leaned to me and whispered much too loud that she put all the country people in the back there where we were.
I got myself situated at the desk; ooh boy, it was really nice. The lid lifted onto plenty space inside, and there was a dip for a pencil at the top. I put the pencil I had brung right in it. The dip kept it from rollin off. I found by lookin at the people round me, that under the seat where I sat was a openin on one side, so books could be slid in. I didn’t have no books, but I thought about puttin Margarete’s sweater there, when I wore it. I slid my foot back slylike to make sure my desk was the same as the rest.
The windows in the room were big, big enough for me to stand in. The glass in them was clear, and arched at the top, and divided by crosses of wood painted gray. Across the front of the room was the big teacher’s desk. Also the long blackboard with the math numbers on it.
The teacher turned back to writin. Cardboard vegetables and turkeys were pinned on brown tackboard, over top a the chalkboard. I kept rovin my eyes round, tryina take it all in. See what I’m in for. When my eyes go over to the right, somethin catchin light behind the windows in the classroom door caught my eye. Lord, there was Luke edward standin there. When he saw me see him, he pressed his face to mutilation on the pane. I chuckled, and my tryina keep it quiet made gurgles in my throat. I waved my hand to shoo him away, and soon as I did that, Josephus from Arkansas was in on the whole thing.
The teacher finished puttin all the numbers cross the board and turned and said, “Deneese, we are multiplying columns of numbers. Just try to follow along with us and if you have questions, I’ll work with you afterwards.” Her callin my name startled me; I swallowed and tried not to choke. When she finished addressin me and had started to work with some kids on problems at the board, I looked back at the door and Luke edward was gone. He don’t see he almost got me in trouble, and I make up my mind to get him good when I get home. Luke edward is not home when I get home, so I make butter beans instead.
MARGARETE AND BIG Jim’s friends come over on Saturday nights. This marks their break in the weeks, and gives them chance to talk about gettin paid on Friday. A lady named Miss Tip comes over all the time. She Margarete’s friend, but she hang around Luke edward too when she over to the house. Round nine o’clock one Saturday before I’m used to them all, the door bell rings. Margarete and Big Jim are dancin in the hall. Margarete says over Big Jim’s shoulder, “Luke, get the door.” Luke doesn’t budge from loadin records on the hi-fi, so I get up to answer it. Miss Tip is right behind me. She got up same as I did. “Marg’rete, Luke’s playin the records,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
We both open the door cause she don’t beat me to it. There is a man named Jump with a boy named Josephus standin there. I find this out because Miss Tip squeals: “Jump!” And Josephus—he the boy—speaks right up. “You Deneese?” he ask me from the hall. I shake my head in answer, yes. “I’m Josephus,” he tells me, still standin in the hall. Miss Tip pulls both the men through the doorway, from the hall shadow into the light of our clean flat. I can see by his hair he is moved here from farm dirt, like me.
When they come inside, they separate. Mr. Jump goes toward the grown people. Josephus stays with me. He stands so close to my face, I wonder if he think I cain’t see. He tells me Jump is his uncle.
Josephus is just up from Arkansas, like I am just up from Virginia. Me and Josephus get to be real close eventually. He explains things to me—some I didn’t expect him to know—us both bein from the country and all. But he’s almost sixteen and he say he gone go to school for a while and then he gone get a job. Josephus talks a lot. I just listen. Cain’t say much anyway on account a the grown folks is talkin one on top of another, and Luke edward is still down on the floor choosin records.
“What grade you gone be in?” That’s what I think of to ask him, finally.
“Grade seven,” is what he answered.
Ooh, he’s behind, I think to myself.
“TELL THE CLASS your name and where you’ve moved from, Deneese.”
I pull off my coat—it’s too short. I rather be standin there in my blue Sunday dress. Margarete had let me wear it even though she didn’t like it. Margarete does not like my clothes. She say all my skirts and dresses are too short and not new. She say I’m in Detroit now and I cain’t be wearin all remade clothes. She ask me who remade my things, and I tell her Granma’am and Miz Evelyn Ownes. She is shocked that I mention Miz Evelyn Ownes on account a the Owneses ain’t got a pot to piss in, she say, so how do they think they got clothes enough to remake for me. She ask me where is the rest of the things I wore down Granma’am’s, and I tell her I left them because they was even smaller than what I brought.
She lays all my things out on her bed. She holds her right hand to her back where I guess the baby comin is painin her. She say when she get a few dollars she gone buy me some new skirts and sweaters. She holds up my blouses and says they will be all right except that the collars is round like I’m a baby. “In the meantime,” she says, and then she goes into her chifforobe, I can wear this and this. She pulls out two skirts and three sweaters and one blouse. Both the skirts is brown—one is dark brown and the other is dark tan. Both the skirts is straight down and, since I am by then tall as Margarete, when she holds them up to me I can see that they will come to the top a my bobby socks. One a the sweaters is white and one is black and one is brown. They all button down. The blouse is cream colored.
I don’t like the clothes Margarete give me. They look like I am doin things I ain’t got no business doin. Once I put the skirts on, I can see they are too close, and the sweaters sit way up over my behind.
Now, I do like the pants she sent down home for me to travel in, and I secretly wish she would pull some more pants out the chifforobe, but then why would she when I cain’t wear those to school.
I asked Margarete could I wear my blue Sunday dress on my first day. She said no.
“Why don’t you wear a skirt and sweater? All the girls will have on skirts and sweaters.”
“I would like to wear my blue dress first, Margarete.” I drop my voice way low on the Margarete part.
She took a deep smoke from her cigarette. “When did you start callin me Margarete, Deneese?”
I had my speech prepared. “I don’t mean no disrespect, Margarete,” I rushed. Now, this first part was a lie. “I haven’t been round you in so long, sometimes I called Granma’am Mama. And, well, when I talked about you down home, I just called you Margarete,
” I said. Another lie. I only called Granma’am Granma’am. And I only called Margarete Margarete when I was listenin to other people talk about her. But what could she know about how true it was or wasn’t. There was no way she could know what I knew, and I knew I did not want to call Margarete Mama anymore, not unless I had to, not unless she made me.
She looked at me a long time. “Are you glad to be back, Neesey?” she asked me.
I wait a minute to answer. “Luke edward done grown up handsome like Daddy,” I said.
“Don’t say that to him.” She laughs a little, blowin out her cigarette smoke. “He already thinks he’s Creation.” She looked steady at me.
“You can wear that blue dress if you want to, but you gone look like a little baby. It’s all right, you ain’t got enough clothes to avoid them skirts for too long. But don’t wear that white dress anymore, it’s not in season. I’ll get you a new white dress Easter,” she said. She was walkin out the room when she said, in summary, “I don’t know about this Margarete business.”
She never said anything else about the Margarete business. And so that is how I came to call my mother Margarete, and that is how I knew that we agreed on a few things: the power of changing subjects, the serious significance of the wearing of clothes, the control we have over the naming of names, and how in truth the change of name can change the person, even if the change is done in secret, or is done by somebody else. And how in the light of day nothing can be done to change the person back, there is no return to the prior name.
“MY NAME DENEESE Palms an I come up from Fuhginia,” I said. Snickers from the rows of heads.
“Class,” a clip from Missus James, while I stand still up front. “And why have you moved to Detroit, Deneese?” I scratch my leg with my other shoe, and reply, “My mama sent for me.” And so from another place in the desk lines: “Cakka-lakky.” What does that mean?
“Class!” Missus James tells them to shut up laughin at me. “Do you need to sit in the front of the class, Deneese, or does it matter? Do you wear eyeglasses?”
“Naw,” I mumble, head down. “Don’t matter,” I go on, hardly knowin if she hears.
“Well, all right, we are glad to have you. Aren’t we, class?” Nobody answers. “There’s a seat in the back next to Josephus Johnson. Why don’t you sit there, Deneese?”
I walk down the nearest row and pass by Brenda Greenfield, who Margarete had invited over to meet me at the party. She has eyeglasses. She whispers, “I’m your friend,” as I pass her, a voice sweet as bells to my ears.
I get to the back desk and try to disappear, but country sand had trickled from my socks and marked the path I took to the back-desk chair. Missus James starts to talkin again. Josephus leans toward me and tries to whisper. I think everybody heard what he said.
THE SCHOOL HAD books for everybody, but not for each one in every subject. Each desk had either four or three books: the subjects alternated by desks. Between your desk and the one beside yours, there was a complete set. After we figured this out, Josephus and I discovered we shared because we sat next to each other.
Missus James gives me four books to go in my desk. She says I can carry them round with me long as I have them in school every day. I take all four a my books home every night. Geography, English, a history book, and a speller. Geography was my all-time favorite. I commenced to askin Missus James bout maps and lakes and directions, and Josephus, who had got in the habit a walkin me home, would wait by the side a the classroom door while I got some answers.
I WOULD GO to the teacher wantin to know somethin almost every day after the school bell rang. “I wanna ax a question,” I’d begin, “bout Lake St. Clair.” I bothered Missus James when I said the word ask.
“Ask,” Missus James would lean to me and say, “you want to ass-suh-kuh.”
Sound like a chair scrapin the floor. “Ass-suh-kuh,” I tried, and lo and behold it came out right. Ass-suh-kuh, I had said. But like Granma’am usedta always say: Ignorance is a green switch; it’ll hurt you, and won’t break. Even though I practiced—ass-suh-kuh, ass-suh-kuh—when I tried to say it normal speed it came out aks, which is close to ax, which is where I started.
I WAS MOSTLY lukewarm about school in the beginning. I thought sure they would shut it down for the winter. The cold was deepening and not letting up. It was only the end of October, the beginning of November. Down home, in Virginia where I had lived, this season would still be cooling off the middays and encouraging the squash. In Detroit, on two lakes and a river, the water hung in the air and the wind was wet. I had outgrown my coat, so that it hardly buttoned over the sweaters I wore to try to keep the wet air off my chest. The days mocked me, blowing my coat wide open.
Margarete was intending to buy me a few things, she had said. When she did I planned to mention that I really need a coat. In the meantime, I had my eye on a coat Luke edward had hanging in his closet that he only wore sometimes. I had to either get warmer, or stay in. Down home, in January and February, I had borrowed Granma’am’s day coat and kept it nice.
But the Lord had put Missus James’s eye on me. One Monday she brought in a black coat, outgrown by a girl at her church.
“Deneese, try this on,” Missus James said to me, and she held the coat with the inside to me for me to slip my arms in.
I fit into the coat, and had plenty room. I had taken off my sweater for the inside, but once I was in it I could see that I could a left my sweater on.
“Are you warm in there?” Missus James asked me. She turned me round by my shoulders, and shook the coat different places to see how loose it was, I guess.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.
“Well, now you have a coat to wear,” she said. She folded her hands in satisfaction.
“I have a coat to wear?”
“Yes, Deneese, the girl who had that coat doesn’t need it anymore, it’s yours.”
“Lawd, have mercy,” I said. I sounded like an old woman, even to myself; but I couldn’t help but say it. The coat come down to the middle a my knee socks and buttoned so far down it may as well of zipped. Sometimes God just brings you (clap) exactly what you need.
“Should I bring it back at the end a winter?”
“No, you keep it until it’s too small for you,” she said. “Just tell your mother I brought it from the church. Wear it every day—wear it home today—and keep it buttoned up. You’ll probably get some wear out of it for a year or two,” she said.
It had a fur collar that sat high off my shoulders and rubbed at my ears. I loved that part the best. When I got home, Margarete said we needn’t accept charity and from the school teacher no less. But Big Jim said to Margarete that it didn’t make all that much sense to be refusin the coat. Maybe the woman was tryina help me feel welcome, and the coat was in very good condition, he inspected. I was glad to let Big Jim talk, even though I don’t know why he had to call Missus James woman like that. I told Margarete that I liked the fur collar, and she said it ain’t real fur.
Well, I didn’t have to give the coat back, and Josephus said I looked citified and well-off. More important than what Margarete or Big Jim or Josephus had to say was that the outside battled that coat the rest a winter, instead a wagin war on me.
After Missus James gave me geography, and brought me a winter coat, and tried to teach me not to say ax, she stopped being my teacher. She and her husband and her little boy moved back to Georgia. Her husband went to teach at a college.
I WAKE UP very early, especially in Detroit. I am like a old person, I cain’t sleep late.
One night early in my stay at Margarete’s house, I dreamed Granma’am was hung by a rope that was tied around her waist. Of course, it really wasn’t Granma’am at all. She would never hang from anything; her feet were always planted in the ground. But her body and her housedress and her black house shoes made it her image all right. While I was watchin, shears cut the rope. Scared me to death since I had just left Granma’am and I was worried about her care.<
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Early that morning before it was light, I woke up overwhelmed. I turned my body over on my cot. I opened my eyes, pulled the pillow over my head, and closed my eyes again. I wanted to see colors on the back of my eyelids. I did not want to see Granma’am hangin from no rope.
I got the colors after I changed positions: tangerine and fuchsia and buttercup like a flower field. I love to get colors in my eyes. I fell back to sleep feelin better. And when I was sleep again, the dream dropped back. While I watched Granma’am dangle, the jute she suspended from got thinner and thinner; the cords that made it up dissolved. Finally, there was only the one strand. Since the strand wasn’t sturdy enough to hold Granma’am, I started to wonder what in the world should I do. I started to run. There was hay on the ground at my feet. I waded as quick as I could through the hay, and I felt the hard ground beneath. I could not let Granma’am fall on this hard ground. That was what I was thinkin. As I ran back and forth, tryina stay underneath her, the biggest gardenin shears came across the white night.
Granma’am hung by only a strand of thin rope. It had gotten so thin. The huge shears came and cut it, and Granma’am started to fall. I did my best to run under her, so when she hit bottom, she’d fall on me. I figured my bones was younger after all; if the whole situation broke a bone or two I would have a better chance to heal.
I hurt my back in that dream, although in the dream it didn’t hurt. Granma’am did come down on me, and she crushed me between herself and the ground. She knocked me down. Like I said, in the dream it didn’t hurt. Granma’am was in such a odd position: she was strainin to hold her head up, strainin to talk out loud while all this is goin on. She fell into me back and shoulder blades first, then her backsides came down, then her legs slammed me fully flat.
My back hit the ground so hard I called out. I sat bolt awake on my cot.
Good Negress Page 4