“As well you should have.”
“I guess it wasn’t a terrible childhood. My parents did the best they could on a coal miner’s salary. I’m sure it was hard for them.”
They stopped for lunch, and Richard shared more of his childhood pranks. He also shared some of the good memories. It was a side of Richard that Marie liked…a lot. When he talked about his childhood and family, it told her more about the person he was today. And the connection to his family added an important balance to his life that Marie felt he needed, someone to care about outside of her and himself.
They checked into the Lincoln Hotel in Urbana late Christmas Eve, or rather early Christmas morning. That evening in the shower they explored each other’s bodies with soapy fingers until they were too aroused to do anything but make passionate love to one another. Like old times.
They changed into their nightclothes, sat up in bed, and wound down listening to the radio.
I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night
Marie felt something sharp rubbing against her thigh. She reached down and pulled out a small familiar robin’s egg blue box from underneath the sheets. She looked at Richard and smiled. Inside was a gold bracelet with a heart charm. Her initials were on the front of the heart. On the back was inscribed
So in love
with you
am I.
R
A line from their song. “That’s so sweet.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Thank you.”
I want a love that’s on the square
Can’t seem to find somebody
Someone to care
She got out of bed, went into her suitcase, and handed him a similar blue box.
“Looks like we’re keeping Tiffany’s in business,” he chuckled as he opened the box. Inside were a diamond studded tie clip and cuff links. “They’re perfect. I love you, Marie. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
I don’t want a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, Friday or Saturday
Oh nothing but Sunday oh yea
I want a Sunday Sunday
I want a Sunday kind of love
She fell asleep in his arms, listening to him breathe, ecstatic to be in a delightfully pleasant place again.
* * *
The look on Bernice’s face revealed how happy she was to see them. Alan emitted his usual grunts. Tom, Malia, Malia’s husband and their daughter, now a two-year-old toddler and an adorable scene stealer, were all there. Marie had bought her a Raggedy Ann doll, which she took to right away.
Richard wanted to pay for the cost of dinner, so he had wired Malia money to cover it. It was likely the most extravagant meal that had ever been prepared in that kitchen. Baked ham, pork roast, mashed potatoes, au gratin potatoes, string beans, zucchini, cornbread, applesauce, candied pears, and fresh rolls with real butter. Apple pie and peach cobbler for dessert. Even Alan commented on it.
The dinner conversation was gratifying. Richard and Tom joked about some of the times they had growing up, with no mention of the tree house incident. Malia shared funny stories about Richard for Marie’s enjoyment. Mariabella toddled around the room trying to get their attention with her antics. Bernice and Alan were more relaxed this time, and Richard was like a completely different person. With all her heart, Marie hoped it was genuine.
They talked about the “good ole days” when they sat around the radio listening to Jack Benny, Amos and Andy, and Fibber McGee and Molly. At the time, Duke Ellington was the “in” singer, and Bernice admitted she stopped what she was doing whenever he came on the radio.
Marie looked around the table, grateful to be part of this family. While she had fond memories of her childhood with her mother, it was nothing like this—more than one conversation going on at a time, lots of laughter, and lots of teasing.
Tom interrupted her thoughts. “So when are you two going to have a baby?”
The room got uncomfortably quiet. Marie and Richard looked at each other and smiled. “Some day,” they said in unison. She silently cringed after saying it. She of course had no intention of getting pregnant, not any time soon anyway.
When it was time to go, Bernice pleaded, “Not so long in between visits next time?”
Richard hugged her good-bye. “I promise, Mom.”
The sound of Richard’s humming in the car on the way back to their hotel felt to Marie a lot like sunshine after a month of rain. While she wasn’t sure Richard would be able to completely shed his illicit ways and become the scrupulous man she so desired, her hopes were high.
“That was a nice visit, don’t you think?” she asked.
“I guess so.”
She patted him on the arm. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be. I did it for you.”
Just when her hopes had reached a decent level, he yanked them back with a few short words.
Close to the hotel, Richard said, “By the way, did I tell you that Judge Lucas’ brother died?” Judge Lucas was an acquaintance of Richard’s, the man who married them.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“They think it may have been a heart attack. The funeral is on Saturday. I’m going to go to it.”
“Of course. I’ll go with you,” she offered.
“No, that’s not necessary. You didn’t know him or anything.”
“You sure? Just for moral support?”
“Naw. I’ll probably only stay long enough to pay my respects and then come home. You want to try that new Italian restaurant on Oak Street Saturday?”
“Sure.”
They fell asleep that night, holding hands, with the radio on.
In the blue of evening, night winds above whisper I love you,
There will we find romance in the blue of evening.
Marie took advantage of Richard being gone to the funeral to clean out two closets that were becoming cluttered. She turned on the radio loud enough to hear it from across the apartment while she cleaned. When the music stopped and news came on, she stopped what she was doing. The announcer was talking about the death of Timmy “The Bomber” Buccieri, notorious Chicago gangster, who was gunned down in cold blood on the southwest side of the City. The funeral was today. They expected a huge turnout.
The pit of Marie’s stomach felt heavy. Minutes passed. Judge Lucas’ brother. Another lie. She considered confronting him, but the only way she could prove him lying was to contact Judge Lucas. If it turned out to be true, Marie could give the Judge her condolences, and Richard would be in the clear. But if it wasn’t true, there would be no graceful way to deal with the rest of the conversation, and he would surely tell Richard, making for a very unpleasant situation. She decided against it.
Her mental image of happily ever—house, picket fence, children, cocker spaniel—was quickly collapsing.
CHAPTER 12
The List
Richard surprised Marie with a trip to New York to see A Streetcar Named Desire to celebrate their two-year anniversary. He had received his first commission check on the Fiefield project and splurged on a three-room suite at The Plaza Hotel. He devoted all his attention to Marie this trip, taking her shopping, choosing her favorite restaurants, and making sure she was pampered and satisfied.
When she entered the hotel room following an appointment at the beauty salon, Richard was lying on the bed, watching television. Sporting a new look, her hair was piled high on top of her head in an upsweep. “It’s all the rage in Paris, dahling,” she mocked, swaying her hips widely while she modeled her new ’do. “What do you think?”
“I like it!” He walked over to her and put his arms around her. “But then I’d like anything, as long as it was you wearing it,” he whispered going in for a hug. “Have I told you lately just how happy you make me?”
Lately she had become somewhat impervious to his sweet talk. She pulled out of his embrace. “Hey, you’ll mess up my new ’do.”
They agreed that The Streetcar Named Desire, starring Marlon Brando, Jessica Tandy, Kim Hunter, and Karl Maiden, was the best and most thought-provoking play they had seen yet. Full of culture clashes, romance, flawed personalities, insanity, and deceit, the entire performance kept her on the edge of her seat.
At the end of the play, when Blanche was committed to a mental institution by her brother, she uttered the words, “Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” as she was led away by a doctor. As Marie dabbed at her tears with Richard’s handkerchief, she heard the sniffles and stifled sobs of the people around her.
* * *
The month following their two-year anniversary, Marie and Richard went to the Green Mill for a late-night dinner. A band they had never heard before, Muddy Waters, was playing in the lounge. Moved by the seemingly effortless integration of piano, guitars, bass, drum, sax, and vocals, they stayed for an after dinner drink and listened to them play what some deemed “offensive race music.” During one of their breaks, Richard asked one of the band members where else they played. He was told the 708 Club was one of their frequent venues, and Marie and Richard began to go there on a regular basis.
Located on the south side of Chicago, they were often the only white couple in the club. But it made no difference to them. They both loved the music.
Well I’m goin’ away to leave
Won’t be back no more
Goin’ back down south, child
Don’t you want to go?
The idiosyncrasy of the experience was nothing short of mind-boggling for Marie. There she sat, silently bi-racial, or at least she believed that could be the case, next to her white husband, listening to blues music in a club with predominantly colored people. She looked around at the other patrons and wondered if they had anything in common, but she couldn’t imagine striking up a conversation with any of them in order to find out.
It was at the 708 Club they came into contact with Calvin and Eve Walker. The place was packed, and Marie and Richard had taken the last empty table. The Walkers arrived right behind them. They approached Marie and Richard. “These seem to be the only empty chairs. May we join you?” Calvin politely asked. Richard nodded with an expressionless face. After brief introductions, the two couples sat back and listened to the music.
Despite the club’s dim atmosphere, Marie could tell Calvin was colored and Eve was white, not a familiar sight in a public place on the south side of Chicago. After the couples had been seated for less than five minutes, a waitress approached them. “The manager has asked you to leave,” she said dryly, looking first at the Walkers and then at Marie and Richard.
“Why?” Calvin asked.
“He doesn’t approve.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. And if I were you, I’d just leave quietly so nothing happens.”
The Walker’s got up to leave. “Richard! Do something. We have every right to be here,” Marie said in a low but firm voice.
“If they leave, you two can stay,” the waitress said to Marie.
Marie shot up from her chair. “No, we’re not staying! C’mon, Richard. Let’s go.” He gave her a puzzled look. She returned a determined look. “Let’s go!”
When they reached the parking lot, the Walkers were nowhere in sight.
“What did you do that for?” Richard asked. “She didn’t have a problem with us.”
Marie marched ahead to their car and waited for him to open the door. Instead, he got into his side of the car, closed the door, and looked at her with a blank stare through the window. Marie stared back at him before she opened her own door and got in. “What is your problem?” he asked.
“Richard, I don’t want to be in a place that treats their customers like that. The only reason they were asked to leave was because she’s white and he’s colored.”
“So?”
“You don’t think that’s wrong?”
“It’s wrong for a white girl to be with a nigger. That’s what’s wrong.”
Marie’s throat grew tight, her breaths becoming short and quick. She relaxed her hands as soon as she realized she was digging her nails into her palms.
They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then Richard shook his head, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot into the street. After they had gone several blocks, he said, “You’re upset with me.”
“No. I’m not upset.”
“Marie, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re upset. And right now, you’re upset.”
She silently counted to five. “I’m not upset. Can we please drop it?”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
Marie sat in silence the rest of the ride home, wondering how much longer she could go it alone carrying the burden of her questionable ethnicity.
* * *
A few days later Richard turned on the radio while he prepared dinner. Jo Stafford was singing.
What a day this has been
What a rare mood I’m in
Why it’s almost like being in love
He looked over at Marie and hummed with the music.
There’s a smile on my face
For the whole human race
Why it’s almost like being in love
“I’ve been thinking,” he said.
“About what?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
“I think it’s time we started a family.”
Marie stared straight ahead in a trance-like state. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Richard looked over at her. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course. You just caught me by surprise with the question.”
“Well?”
“I don’t know.” What brought this on? She fidgeted with her hair. “Uh…I know we talked about doing it someday, but I’m not sure if I’m ready.”
“Well, I’m ready, and I must say I’m a little surprised you’re not. I thought you wanted a family.”
“What I said is I’m not sure. I…uh, haven’t really thought about it. I guess I always thought of it as somewhere out there…in the future.”
“Well, you know what they say. ‘If you wait too long, the future will be past.’Will you think about it?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I love you.”
“Me, too.”
That night in bed, Richard rolled over toward Marie and cuddled her from behind, his hands caressing her curves. “The more I think of it, sweetheart, the more I can picture us with a baby,” he whispered. She didn’t respond. He waited a respectable length of time and then said good night. She kept her back toward him, eyes wide open, for most of the night.
The next morning, Marie awoke to the sound and smell of percolating coffee. She splashed cool water on her face in an attempt to erase the evidence of a sleepless night. “Morning,” she said to him. He was whipping up a batch of waffles.
“Morning yourself. Sleep okay?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Really? You did a lot of tossing and turning.”
“Well, you’re right. I probably did more thinking than sleeping.”
“What about?”
“About what you asked me yesterday about starting a family.”
“And?”
She walked up behind him, put her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his back. “Don’t start the waffles.”
He turned around to face his wife’s seductive smile. He led her upstairs, to their bedroom. It was the first time they made love without him using protection. Please God, let this coil work.
* * *
Since Richard’s “I’m going to change” speech, his involvement with the cop across the street and the creepy Russian guy next door seemed to cease, and except for the Buccieri funeral, an
y activity with mobster types had been seemingly nonexistent, at least from Marie’s vantage point. But Marie wasn’t convinced his questionable behaviors had really ended. She believed he may have just become better at hiding them, and it would be only a matter of time before she would catch him doing something egregious. She was so convinced it was only a matter of time that she started a list, one she kept hidden in a zippered compartment of her makeup bag, a to-do list of things if and when she decided to leave him.
That decision came a few weeks later when Marie noticed a small pile of dirt on the hallway floor. Something made her look up toward the ceiling at the trap door to the attic. There were scuff marks on it that she hadn’t noticed before. She retrieved a step-ladder and pulled down the stairs to have a look. What she found shocked her—a complete set of baby furniture.
Even if he had given up his sinister ways, which Marie highly doubted, the fact that he went out and bought the baby furniture without her knowledge reinforced her belief that it was his world and she was just in it. It was foreign to her. It wasn’t the way she was raised. And it wasn’t how she wanted to live.
She felt her situation was irreparable. Richard was ready to start a family, and what Richard wanted, Richard got, no matter what it took. She couldn’t tell Richard about her ancestry fears when she didn’t have all the facts; she was afraid he would take matters into his own hands and cause who knows what kind of trouble. Ascertaining her actual ethnicity was something she wanted to do on her own terms and in her own time.
And of course there was the comment Richard had made at the 708 Club criticizing whites being with coloreds. If that was his belief, and if it turned out she did indeed have colored blood in her, that could be the end of their relationship in any case, children or no children.
With respect to Richard’s shady activities, Marie was certain that was something he could never give up entirely. There was an expected loyalty when it came to his cohorts, and it was tied to making bigger money than he could make just selling medical equipment.
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