Original Sins

by Lisa Alther

  “No,” he murmured, rubbing his erection against her thigh.

  The sun beat down. Through half-closed eyelashes Sally could see the surrounding cliffs, sun-struck and shimmering in the heat. The ski jump rocked gently in the swells. The deep green water was penetrated by shafts of sunlight

  She dozed, and awoke to discover that her own and Jed’s bathing suits had been removed. Jed was kneeling between her legs, lowering himself.

  “No, Jed,” she murmured faintly.

  “Please, Sally,” he whispered.

  “Please don’t, Jed.”

  “Please.”

  “Please. No,” she whispered, as he pushed himself slowly into her.

  “Please,” he gasped as he moved ever less tentatively in and out.

  Sally lay absolutely still. If she didn’t participate, if she didn’t enjoy this in any way whatsoever, it would be OK. It would be as though it hadn’t even happened. Jed jerked and shuddered and gasped and sighed and lay silent.

  And in fact, it was exactly as though it hadn’t happened. She felt nothing. Except terror. But this wasn’t how she’d always imagined. it That song last night: “When you hold me so tight, / I just know this is right…” This conviction was lacking. What had gone wrong?

  “Will you always love me, Jed?” she whispered in a fearful voice.

  He was lying on her, absently stroking her hair and trying to fathom the enormity of what he’d just done. Mr. Prince’s daughter. It hadn’t been as good as with Betty Boobs. It hadn’t even been as good as jerking off. She just lay there, like a corpse. The Chuck Berry song last night that all the boys had hooted at, and all the girls had blushed at: “She said, ‘O yeah, daddy, that sure feels fine!’”

  “Yeah, Sally, I will. You know I will.” God, he had no choice now. He’d taken her virginity. She was his for life. They looked at each other uneasily.

  Raymond and Emily drove in the golden light of early evening down a valley of well-tended farms toward Donley to a meeting Raymond was covering for the newspaper. A lazy river wound through the valley. Forested hills rose up on either side. Tiny figures in the distance threw hay bales onto wagons.

  They drove into the sleepy little town, a shopping community for coal miners and farmers. It consisted of a shopping street, an old brick courthouse, a street of dignified frame houses, and lots of drooping elms. Abruptly they found themselves in a traffic jam, unheard of for Donley.

  Hearing the roar of a crowd on the courthouse green, they found it packed with several hundred white people—men in khakis and short-sleeved white sports shirts with the sleeves rolled up, white socks, black pointy shoes, long sideburns, and slicked-down hair. Women in housedresses and white socks and flats. Babies in diapers. Signs waved: “We won’t go to school with no niggers!” “Get rid of the Supreme Court.” Men were yelling, “Yeah, he’s right!”

  Raymond snapped pictures hurriedly while daylight lasted. Emily worked her way through the crowd, across the grass, toward the courthouse steps, where a man identical to the others stood shouting. A woman handed her a pamphlet headlined “Beware of the Unholy Three.” It was a harangue against fluoridated water and polio serum and mental hygiene—all Yankee Communist plots to undermine the health and will of a free people.

  “They’s three of us Anglo-Saxons to every seven niggers on this earth! But we pure-blooded Anglo-Saxons is the only ones who run free guvmints for free men!”

  “Tell it, buddy!”

  “These here nigger-loving Reds on our Donley school board, they tell us we gonna have coons in our schools next year. Setting up against the fair white bodies of our defenseless little daughters. Well, I say we ain’t!”

  The crowd roared.

  “When Ham gazed on Noah in his nakedness, friends, and mocked and reviled him, Noah put a curse on the sons of Ham. In Genesis he said, ‘Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren/ Now, I ask you, does that sound like the Lord meant for us to send our sweet little children to school with them black devils?”

  “No!” roared the crowd.

  “No, naturally not!” roared back the man. “Hit’s a plot by them Jews up at Washington, D.C., to weaken Caucasian manhood by mixing up our blood with a bunch of lazy savages! The Lord meant for em to keep to theirselves. Why, he says rat cheer in Joshua, ‘Let em be hewers of wood and drawers of water.’ He don’t say nothing bout letting em go to school with our children and letting em mongrelize the white race!”

  “No, He don’t!”

  “We got to let them Reds running our schools and running our federal guvmint know what we think down here! We been pushed around just about long enough! We done had Yankees ordering us around long as anyone in these parts can remember—set your slaves free and elect em to public office! Move your family offen your farm cause we gon flood it to make these here TVA lakes for rich people to water ski on! We gon turn your farms into that there Smoky Mountain National Park—so’s we can come down from Washington and take pictures of bars! We gon turn you off your land and put up big ole fences and build us an atom bomb—so’s if it blows up, yall is the ones that gits killed! We gon chop up your stills and put you in jail! We gon run a turnpike through your cornfield! We gon put niggers in your schools! We gon destroy the South altogether! Friends, they ain’t no stopping em—these Yankee radical Communists. I don’t know bout yall, but my family is been moved around four times in the last hunnert years to make room for all these fancy projects. We don’t want no trouble. We never has. We just want to be left alone. We just want to live out our lives. We just trying to run a farm and raise our kids up to be decent God-fearing Amuricans …”

  A cavalcade of cars crawled by the green, horns blowing. From their radio antennas fluttered banners reading “Whites for Whiter Schools.” The blaring was too much for the crowd. They surged in all directions, like a cell about to divide. A loud angry hum filled the square.

  “… They trying to destroy our Southern way of life! They won’t be content till they’ve wiped us off the face of this earth!” screamed the speaker.

  A young boy sitting on an older man’s shoulders threw a rope over an elm branch. He fitted the noose around the neck of a dummy wearing a sign reading “‘Justice’ Earl Warren.” The crowd fell silent, watching. The dummy dangled and twisted in the dusk. The boy dumped kerosene on it and held a match to it. As it was enveloped in leaping flames, the crowd howled.

  Emily, standing on the steps looking around frantically for Raymond, saw a car containing three Negroes—man, woman, and child—drive along the edge of the square. They looked terrified and were trying to turn around to go back in the direction they’d come from. The crowd saw them first. They surged over and surrounded the car and began rocking it. The driver gunned the engine and roared straight ahead, narrowly missing several people, further enraging the crowd, which pursued the car. A rock came hurtling through the twilight and shattered the rear window. With screeching tires the car shot down a side street, pursued by several men.

  Emily was in a state of near-collapse. She had not known this was possible. In Newland Negroes and white people were unfailingly polite and kind to each other, liked and respected each other. In many cases, they helped each other out. Who were all these people, their faces contorted with hatred? What swamp had they crawled out of? She located Raymond in the middle of the mob, snapping pictures. How could he? Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t somebody do something?

  Raymond noted that he was functioning like a machine. He waited for his shots, like a basketball player, his finger clicking of its own accord. His personal reactions—disgust with the crowd, pleasure to be getting a good story—were in abeyance.

  As the crowd broke up, he found Emily sitting with her back against the courthouse wall, her eyes tightly shut.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.

  “Who are all these horrible people?”

  “Our neighbors. Our cousins.”

  “Not mine,
they aren’t.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Nobody I know would behave like this.”

  The next day, at lunch after church, Emily told her parents what had happened at Donley. Her father said grimly, “Charming.”

  “But I don’t understand why they’d do that,” said Emily.

  “Because they hate Negroes.”

  “But why?”

  He shrugged. “Human nature.”

  “But I’m human, and I don’t hate anybody.”

  “You’re not trying to earn a living yet either.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sally darling, are you all right?” Mrs. Prince asked.

  Sally had said nothing all morning and was now toying with her peas with her fork. She looked up, smiled her famous smile and said, “Yes ma’am, I’m just fine, thank you!”

  Her parents and Emily looked at her and said nothing.

  “Hell, I ain’t going to school with no jigs,” Jed announced, concerning the rumors that had been sweeping through school all day. They were walking along the sidewalk to Sally’s house.

  “Who says they even want to in Newland?” pointed out Sally. She clung to his hand, seeking from his fingertips assurance that he still respected her, would protect her reputation, would eventually marry her, and would love her forever. That didn’t seem like too much to ask. She had dark circles under her eyes. She’d been awake all night. Was what they had done a sin? She was pretty sure it was. What if he wanted to do it again? Should she say no? If she didn’t, what would happen as punishment? He was wearing one of those rubber things. Would that for sure keep her from getting pregnant? How could she find out? Did he really enjoy it? She liked kissing and petting a lot better herself.

  “Our niggers got more sense than that bunch over at Donley. They better not go getting any smart ideas. They go to school with us, next thing you know they’ll be dating our girls and taking up all the spots on our ball teams. Before you know it, they’ll be wanting to work in the mill and live next door to us.” He laughed incredulously. He used to stop by their ball field and watch them scrimmage when he was doing Raymond’s paper route. They had some top-notch ball players. No question about it. He didn’t know how he’d fare in competition with them for a spot on the line. He hoped it’d never come to that. As for the girls, everybody knew about niggers—they humped like rabbits. But any nigger who dared so much as look at Sally was one nigger looking for an early grave. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled up against him.

  They were walking past the Castle Tree. “Remember how we used to spend all day up in that tree, Jeddy—you and me and Raymond and Em and Donny?”

  “Yeah, we used to do a lot of dumb things.” He just couldn’t believe he’d spent his first ten years hanging around with a jig, two girls, and a fairy. It was a wonder he still had a pair.

  Donny and Kathryn sat in the armchairs as Ruby cooked. The local news included clips of the burning dummy at Donley. They watched in silence. Afterward Kathryn said, “I was talking with Mr. Dupree over at the luncheonette today. He says he’s getting a committee together to go talk to the school board about enrolling some of our students in the white high school next fall.”

  Donny raised his eyebrows to indicate boredom.

  “He asked if you’d be interested. If you’re really not going back to New York with me.”

  “Why is it always me going back up at New York City, Mama? What’s to stop you staying here?”

  “Won’t nobody give a Negro nurse no job down here.”

  “You try?”

  “Are you crazy? I don’t go out of my way to get humiliated. But you’re changing the subject What about going to the white high school?”

  “Me? What I want to go over there for, Mama? I like it just fine right here.”

  “Somebody’s got to.”

  “How come ‘Somebody’s got to’?”

  “It’s coming, Donny. It’s gon happen. Whether anybody likes it or not. So you might as well decide to like it and help it along.” The Pine Woods part of Kathryn hated every word she was saying and longed to be the Kathryn of five years ago who had felt no responsibility except to keep food on the table. It was enough then to feel the sun on her back as she molded clay on the pond shore with the little children.

  “Humph,” said Donny. “I ain’t studying to get myself cut up. You see those pictures on the TV?”

  “But Donny, honey, they’re people, just like us.”

  “Then how come you got to go out convincing people to go to school with them?”

  “Their schools are better than ours. They spend more on them. You’re my son. I want you to have the best education possible.”

  “Since when you worrying bout what’s best for me, Mama?”

  “Let’s not get into that again, Donny. I explained myself as well as I could. You can accept it or not, but don’t let’s keep beating each other over the head with it.”

  “All right. Yeah. I’m sorry. But anyhow, the answer is no. I don’t wanna go to no white high school.”

  “But there’s nothing they can do to us they haven’t already done. You might even be pleasantly surprised.”

  “I ain’t scared, Mama. It’s just that I like it here. My friends are here. The basketball team and all like that.”

  “You can’t play basketball all your life, Donny. What you gon do with your life?”

  “What you mean what I gon do with it? I gon live it, what you think, woman?”

  “To live you need money. How you gon get it?”

  “Well, shoot, Mama, I gon get me a job. What else?”

  “What kind of job you gon get in this town?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. A job job. I gon be a U.S. senator. What you think I’m gon do, Mama?”

  “You a real smart boy. You thinking bout college?” “Shit, no! I ain’t thinking, period! Leave me alone, Mama.”

  “If you ain’t thinking, somebody’s got to.” She shrugged. “You just hopeless, Donny.”

  “Well, why don’t you just go on back up North where niggers is men?”

  Donny and Rochelle walked hand in hand that night through the streets of Pine Woods, past the ranch houses of the undertaker, some of the teachers, Reverend Stump, Mr. Dupree.

  “I want me a house like that someday,” sighed Rochelle. “When I’m out of college and running me my library.”

  “Well, I’ll come visit you when I’m passing through your town with the Harlem Globetrotters.” Donny laughed.

  “You do that. Maybe I’ll even invite you to spend the night.”

  He stopped and turned to look at her. “That’d be real nice,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her as he ran his hand up and down the small of her back. On the basketball bus to out-of-town games one of the cheerleaders was always wanting him to sit with her and make out, but he always sat with Tadpole and fell asleep in the seat thinking about Rochelle home taking care of all those children.

  He left her off and sauntered back to his grandmaw’s apartment. People sat on porches in the hot dark night, as little children tumbled in the courtyard. Couples strolled on the sidewalks. A cluster of men laughed and talked by Dupree’s Luncheonette. Women lounged around the door of the laundromat and exchanged insults with the men. Donny liked it here. He didn’t want to go to no white school. He didn’t want to go up at New York City. He didn’t want to go nowhere. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even much want to go on the road with the Harlem Globetrotters. He’d just said that because he didn’t want Rochelle to give up on him. He was trying to trick her into thinking he was some kind of go-getter or something. It probably wasn’t fair. Maybe he’d become a go-getter, since that’s what she seemed to want. But what could he go and get?

  A car raced down the street from the highway. White arms reached out and heaved beer bottles at the curbs in front of the clusters of people. Shattered glass flew up. Most everyone ducked into doorways an
d alleys.

  Donny stood frozen. A laughing red face appeared at a back window; a hand holding a bottle by its neck extended from the car. The arm bent at the elbow, preparing to hurl the bottle at Donny’s feet. Donny’s eyes met those of the laughing face. It was Jed. The brief seconds seemed to stretch into several minutes.

  The arm, still holding the bottle, drooped and fell against the side of the car.

  Chapter Six

  Booklearning

  Jed and Sally, the other Devouts and their dates, the Student Council officers, and members of the Citizenship Corps sat around the mahogany table in Sally’s dining room at the monthly Devout Prayer Breakfast

  Jed had a double reason for being there. He was Sally’s date and also president of the Citizenship Corps. He carried a tape measure in his pocket, and it was his responsibility to measure how far off the floor the girls’ hemlines were, and to issue passes for first offenders to go home and change if the distance was greater than eighteen inches. Repeat offenders got detention slips. Emily had maintained that this meant the shorter girls could wear shorter skirts than the taller girls. But he told her the Citizenship Corps couldn’t play no favorites. Short or tall, you had to follow the rules, or they was no telling what outfits some of them girls from Cherokee Shoals might turn up in.

  As Judy led them in a prayer for divine assistance in running Newland High, Jed opened his eyes just enough to see Sally, her eyes closed tight and her head bent. She was so pretty with her bouncy blonde hair, and she was all his now. She had given him her virginity, would open her legs whenever he wanted. His years of jerking off over Playboy, sneaking around with Betty Boobs, lusting and burning and not finding release was over. He reached under the table for her hand. She frowned. This was just not the place. He smiled at her with all the gratitude he was feeling. She smiled back with reproof.

  He would protect her. No other boy would dare come near her with impure thoughts. Not if they valued having their teeth fixed in their gums. He would also protect her rep. No one would ever know they were doing it. Not even Bobby and Hank. Yesterday playing basketball, Hank had said, “What you grinning like a panting dog for, Tatro?”