One Night in Georgia

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “It’s mine,” Veronica said proudly.

  I turned quickly, seeing the grin on her face. “No way!”

  “I said the exact same thing when she drove up to the house this morning,” Daphne announced. “But her name is on the registration. Veronica Cook—I saw it myself.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, it is. It’s all mine. Candy-apple red convertible Ford Fairlane with all the bells and whistles.”

  I looked at her skeptically. “Who gave it to you?”

  “It’s an early graduation gift from my parents.”

  “Isn’t it just beautiful? And it rides like an absolute dream,” Daphne added excitedly.

  I nodded, admiring the car once more. “It is beautiful. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks,” Veronica said happily, then quickly glanced at Daphne.

  “So we were thinking . . .” Daphne began and then glanced at Veronica. Both began smiling mischievously.

  “Okay, what are you two really up to?” I asked, seeing the exchange between them.

  “We were thinking . . . Feel like taking a ride with us?”

  “Ah, sure, okay. Where to?” I asked.

  “To Georgia,” Veronica and Daphne said with big smiles on their faces.

  “To Georgia. You’re not serious.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No way,” I said.

  “Come on. Do something spontaneous for once in your boring life. Don’t think, do,” Veronica insisted.

  I shook my head emphatically. “No, no way.”

  “Zelda, come on. It’ll be a blast,” Daphne added. “You know, it’s okay to color outside the lines sometimes.” Veronica and I both looked at Daphne. Apparently this was another one of her pearls of wisdom. She frowned. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “No. I have no idea.”

  “Zelda—” Veronica began.

  I cut her off with a simple response. “No.”

  “But—” Daphne tried to chime in.

  “No. Do you have the slightest notion how dangerous it is being black in the South these days? And you want to just up and drive down there like it’s just a trip to the seashore? You must be out of your minds. No way. Blacks are being killed every single day, and nobody does a damn thing to stop it. Cops, lawyers, judges—they’re all in on it.”

  “We’re not fools. We’re going to be careful,” Veronica said.

  Daphne nodded.

  “Look. See? We’re all packed and ready to go,” Daphne said, showing me the small bags already in the back seat. “Our suitcases are in the trunk. All we need is you.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way I’m going,” I declared.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I said.

  “Because why?”

  “Because of a dozen different reasons.”

  “Name one,” Veronica said.

  “Because I already have my train ticket,” I said quickly.

  “So cash it in,” Veronica countered.

  “Because classes don’t start for another week and a half. There’s no reason to leave this early,” I reasoned, then paused and looked at them questioningly. “So why are you leaving so early?”

  “We’re making a stop along the way,” Daphne said.

  “Hurry up and get your things. We don’t have a lot of room, so maybe just bring two suitcases.”

  I shook my head again. “I can’t go with you.”

  “Of course you can. It’s a moral imperative that you come with us, and besides, you already promised you would,” Daphne said, smiling victoriously.

  “When did I promise that?” I asked.

  “Three years ago, the first day we met on the train going to Spelman, remember? We said that we’d drive down to school our senior year and have one last big adventure before we separate and start our real lives.”

  I remembered. But it had been just a pipe dream. “That doesn’t count. We also promised that we’d travel the country in a VW bus and backpack through Europe. We didn’t do any of that.”

  “We still have time,” Veronica assured me.

  “Oh, come on. It’ll be a blast. What else do you have to do next week, sit and melt in this heat?” Daphne said, then held up her pinkie finger.

  I looked at Daphne’s finger. This has meaning. It was something my father and I had done when I was growing up. It was a promise not to be broken.

  “Don’t you read the newspapers? The laws have changed, yes, but it’s still dangerous driving in the South. Not everyone respects the law.”

  “Of course I read the newspapers. But I’m not going to live my whole life being scared of what might happen. We don’t have every freedom, but let’s use what we do have.”

  “Veronica, black people disappear, never to be seen again. Or if they’re found, they’re mangled beyond recognition, like Emmett Till.”

  I remembered in my freshman year at Spelman when I first saw the picture in the Jet magazine. I’m still sick to my stomach every time I’m reminded of it.

  Veronica shook her head, waving it off dismissively. “No. That was more than ten years ago,” she said.

  “Veronica, are you really that naïve?” I asked her.

  “Those things happen in Alabama and Mississippi. Everybody knows that’s where the real racists are.”

  “Racists are everywhere, even up here in the North. Cops shoot black men, and the judges look the other way with acquittals, just like in the South,” I retorted.

  “She’s right,” Daphne said solemnly.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then no black person should ever leave their house. We should all just give up our lives and hide. Is that what you’re gonna do, hide and be scared the rest your life? What about being a lawyer and changing the world?”

  “I’m not saying hide, I’m saying don’t take unnecessary risks, such as traveling in a red convertible in the South. It’s like riding around in a giant bull’s-eye.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes. “Now I know you’re loopy.”

  “Don’t call me loopy,” I countered, getting more annoyed. “Ever heard of Addie Mae Collins, Carol Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, or Cynthia Wesley? My father had me memorize their names. They were the four young girls killed in the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham. Ever heard of—”

  “All right. Stop it. Enough,” Daphne said tensely, then lowered her voice again. She looked around cautiously as she always did on the rare occasions when she spoke up. “We get it, okay? We get it. The South is dangerous. But we’re going to be careful, and we’ll be fine. I don’t know about you, Zelda, but I need to get out of this damn city. I can’t be here anymore.”

  Daphne looked terrified. I looked at Veronica. She held up her pinkie finger. Daphne held up her pinkie finger again. They turned and looked at me. I shook my head.

  “This is crazy,” I said softly as I looked at my friends’ dejected faces. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” I stepped back from the car. I hated disappointing them, but there was no way I was going to jump into a car and drive down south. “Just do me a favor and please, please be careful.”

  Veronica and Daphne looked at each other. Veronica opened the passenger door, got in, and slid across to the driver’s seat. Daphne grabbed her hat and shades and got into the car. She looked at me and tried to smile. I mouthed the words, Be safe.

  Daphne nodded and I headed back to the house. As soon as I did, I saw Darnell standing at the parlor window, leaning against the windowpane, his belly hanging over his belt. Sweat was dripping down his face. He was smirking like he always did when he thought he was going to get his way. I stopped in my tracks and turned around just as Veronica started the engine. “Wait! I’m coming with you,” I said as my heart pounded.

  Their faces lit up instantly.

  “But I need to stop in DC to see my uncle,” I said. I figured I had until then to talk them out of driving down south. We could catch a train from DC to Atlan
ta.

  “No problem,” Veronica said gladly.

  “I’m nearly packed. I just have to toss a few more things into my suitcases.” I held up my pinkie finger. Our three fingers touched. “Wait here. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  3

  I HURRIED UP THE FRONT STEPS AND WENT BACK INSIDE. I heard my mother and Darnell talking and overheard my name but still kept moving. I was thinking about everything I needed to pack. Most of my stuff was in DC. I was halfway to the second floor when I heard Darnell call out my name. I didn’t stop. He called me again. “Zelda!”

  I ignored him and continued.

  Then my mother called my name. I stopped, rolled my eyes, and sighed heavily. I slowly went back downstairs, one hesitant footstep at a time. I knew he was up to something as soon as I walked into the parlor. He was standing there smiling like he’d just hit the daily street number.

  I stared at him as he turned and nodded out the window. I could almost see the wheels in his tiny-ass brain turning. He wanted something. He always wanted something.

  “Whose car is that?” he asked, speaking to me directly, which he only did when he wanted something.

  “What?” I answered.

  “The girls out there, whose car?”

  “It belongs to my friend Veronica.”

  He glanced outside again. “Your mother tells me that her father is Sebastian Cook, that hotshot stockbroker on Wall Street. He’s in the newspapers all the time. He hangs around all them movie stars and politicians. I’ve seen his pictures.”

  Of course, I knew all this already. Veronica didn’t brag; she didn’t have to. Whenever she saw pictures of her parents in Jet or Ebony magazine, she just shrugged and smiled politely like it was no big deal. The first few times Daphne and I saw them we were ecstatic. We’d never known anybody in a magazine before. Then after a while we did like Veronica and just shrugged. I didn’t respond to Darnell.

  “Who’s the white girl?” he asked.

  “She’s not white. She’s light-skin.”

  “Her name’s Daphne,” my mother said.

  “Her father got money too?” he asked.

  I ignored him.

  Darnell nodded and smiled all giddy-like, then looked at my mother. She moved across the room, feigning disinterest. “So she got money too, then,” he assumed. “Well, you know, I’m concerned about them standing out there in the hot sun.”

  “Of course,” I responded sarcastically.

  His eyes narrowed. “Look-a-here,” he began, “you go out there and tell your two friends to come on inside the house where it’s cool and meet your family,” he insisted.

  I could barely contain the chuckle bubbling inside me. You would think he was joking, but I knew better. I glared at him for a few seconds, then shook my head. “My friends have already met my family,” I said. “We’ve celebrated Thanksgiving in DC together for the last three years.”

  “They ain’t met all your family,” he said as his eyes widened. “They ain’t met me.”

  “No, they haven’t,” I said plainly, not budging. “And why would you want to meet my friends anyway?”

  “I want to meet their fathers. They can introduce me to—”

  “No,” I replied, not giving him a chance to finish.

  We locked eyes. His perpetual frown seemed to turn into a menacing scowl. But I wasn’t moved. There was no way I was going to bring my friends inside to meet him.

  “I ain’t playing with you,” he threatened. “Now go tell them girls to come on in here and get some cool iced tea. Tell them you want them to meet your father.”

  Father? I couldn’t believe what came out of his slithering-snake mouth. He was delusional. I had been telling my girls about his foolishness for the past three years.

  After I laughed, I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Sensing no reply from me, he scowled, thinning his lips to slits of rage.

  “Zelda, please,” my mother said, exasperated.

  “Call them in here,” he demanded.

  I turned and went upstairs. I could hear him cussing just before I closed my bedroom door. I flung a suitcase onto the bed and began filling it with my things. As I did, something fell to the floor. I reached down and picked up a doll my father had given me when I was seven years old. I smiled as I sat down on the edge of the bed. My heart sank. Once my sanctuary, this room was now as foreign to me as Timbuktu.

  I looked up and saw my mother standing in the doorway. Suddenly I felt sorry for the woman I had grown to despise. No, “despise” wasn’t the right word. I still loved my mother dearly. It was the weakness inside her I despised. Years of trusting Darnell had worn her down to the frail, pitiful woman standing before me. Once vibrant and beautiful, strong and fierce, she was now weak and pathetic. Darnell had taken her youth and her spirit.

  He had sweet-talked her out of her panties and into his bed with promises of lasting love, fidelity, and good times. And after three months of auditions, it was painfully obvious that not only was he not going to be the next Belafonte, but he could barely read the scripts. So, with his pipe dreams dashed, he started working as a doorman and sometimes ushered at the Harlem Palace Theatre. It was as close as he’d ever get to the stage.

  I placed the doll back on the bed and continued packing.

  “Darnell wants you to invite your friends in.”

  “There’s no time,” I said hurriedly.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking around aimlessly.

  “Packing.”

  “I can see that,” she said, sounding more surprised than distressed. She walked over to the closet and saw all my clothes gone.

  “Zelda, stop,” she insisted, holding my arm still. “What are you doing? Why are you leaving so soon?”

  I looked at my mother, slightly puzzled. “You said it yourself. Me being here causes strife. So I’m leaving.” I grabbed my big red, black, and green macramé tote bag and started stuffing clothing inside. I grabbed my doll and stuffed that inside too.

  “Zelda, don’t take everything so literal. That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Your husband just told me to get out of my own father’s house and you didn’t say a word. You just stood there and let him put me out.”

  “You know he didn’t mean it. He was just angry. You’re so touchy about everything,” she said, then rolled her eyes and shook her head. “For God’s sake, you need to stop getting so upset when someone mentions your father. I’m so tired of always defending you.”

  I spun around, furious. “Defending me? You have never defended me. My father protected me. He saved my life.” I quickly continued packing.

  “Zelda, stop it. I look at you and see your father. He would never yield on anything, and that’s what got him killed.”

  I didn’t say anything. I closed the suitcase, snapping the locks. I turned and looked at her. She stood there, her eyes wide and agonizing. “Do you even know what today is?” I asked.

  She looked at me, confused. I shook my head sadly. “You don’t have a clue, do you? It holds no significance for you whatsoever. He did everything for you, and you can’t even remember that he was handcuffed, beaten, shot, and killed five years ago today.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “That’s okay, I understand. You’re blinded by Darnell, the master manipulator.”

  The slap across my face was instant. It was hard and loud like an explosion going off in my head. My right eye blurred and teared up immediately. The prickling sting came seconds later, like a hundred tiny pins piercing the side of my face. I held my cheek and stepped back.

  “Zelda,” she began, reaching out to me.

  I slung my tote bag over my shoulder, picked up my suitcase, and headed down the stairs and straight out the front door. As soon as I got outside I saw Veronica and Daphne leaning against the car with Darnell talking to them. His arms waved around in full animation. Whatever lie he was telling was a big one.

  “Hey,” he said,
smiling at me.

  I didn’t answer. I walked straight to the back of the car. Veronica and Daphne hurried over and opened the trunk. We squeezed my suitcase inside and slammed it shut. Daphne climbed into the back, and I sat in the passenger seat. Veronica slid behind the wheel, and just like that, it was done. No goodbye. No farewell. No nothing. We drove off.

  As we got to the corner, I turned one last time to see my mother standing midway up the front steps. Darnell was talking to her. She held her hand up to wave goodbye.

  Two blocks away I was staring in the side mirror. No one had said a word. After a bit, Veronica stopped at a traffic light. She looked over at me. “Well now, that was memorable, wasn’t it?” she blurted out as soon as the light turned green, and off she drove.

  “Veronica, hush,” Daphne said quickly.

  “I’m just saying.” Veronica glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Daphne’s eye. “You were thinking the same dang thing I was, so don’t tell me to hush.”

  They both turned and looked at me as I sat quietly.

  “Are you okay, Zelda?” Daphne asked softly as she leaned forward and touched my shoulder.

  I shook my head slowly, then closed my eyes as tears began to fall. Veronica quickly pulled the car over to the side of the street and turned the engine off. She slid close to me and took my hand as Daphne leaned over the seat and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Zelda, we’re here for you,” she whispered.

  I nodded. “I know. I’ll be fine,” I said, my voice cracking. I lay my head back on the soft leather seat and closed my eyes. “It’s just that today is—”

  “We know,” Veronica said softly. “That’s why we came by to see you today. We thought you might need a couple of friends to stand by you.”

  “You’re gonna be okay,” Daphne said.

  “She’s fine, and we’ll all be better than fine as soon as we get the hell out of this hot-ass city and we can start having some fun.”

  “I second that,” Daphne said.

  I smiled and nodded. “Make it unanimous,” I said.

  “All right, then,” Veronica said, digging in her big bag. She pulled out a Polaroid Land camera and held it at arm’s length. Daphne tucked between us.