“He is still a colored man. No matter what he chooses to do, he cannot change the color of his skin. Besides, I am married.”
“He ain’t coming down here for nothing.”
“We are friends and friends only.”
“He is mannerable and sort of cute.”
“Simon is polite and handsome,” I teased.
“He is. I saw him the night he came to visit. We were looking out the window when you got in the car. He could be considered beautiful, but he ain’t no businessman.”
We giggled. I loved the two girls I shared my room with. We all had the same desire, and we never competed for anything. I would often speak of Hester to them. I missed her so much, especially since I never seemed to get a chance to go to Washington, D.C. for a visit.
Mariam and I had just finished the washing when Adam came. This time, he had a small package in his arm.
“I bought you something,” he said.
Before even saying thank you, I commented, “We are not supposed to have visitors on weeknights.”
“I know, but it has been over a month since I’ve seen you,” he said, taking off his hat.
“Well, let me grab my coat and we can walk somewhere.” I took the package and went back to my room to get my coat. I tore open the brown paper wrapping before going downstairs. In it was a book written by my favorite poet, Paul Lawrence Dunbar. It was a special moment, and I longed to spend the evening hours thumbing through words which sang songs in my ears.
The temperature had begun to shift. Fall was here in earnest. The days were short and the nights long. The leaves had all turned and the ground was covered in a tapestry of colors. I loved the fall and especially the sweet elderberries, which were ripe for picking. Momma had always made elderberry jam in the fall. That season was almost over, though. Adam and I began our stroll at the boarding house and ended it on the school yard. We walked hand in hand. Adam had filled in when Simon was away. The long talks on the train around the subject of school made me more eager to study. Now, I was faced with telling him I could not see him anymore. How do you tell your friend he cannot come by? How do you isolate your friends from your family? All of those thoughts buzzed in my head as we walked across the school yard and found a seat on the school house steps.
“Did you open your present?” he asked.
“It was one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.”
“I know how much you like poetry. You said Dunbar was your favorite.” Paul Lawrence Dunbar was the only poet I knew. Mrs. Ferguson made sure we read his work in school and now at the Normal School, he was one of the writers we study. I liked his love poems and often thought of myself when I read his work.
“I knew you would like the book; I knew it,” Adam said, smiling.
The moon was high now and shining down on us. It was a clear night, chilly without a breeze.
“Where will you stay tonight, Adam? The train has already left.”
“I have someplace to lay my head for the night. My mother’s sister lives here.”
Adam was a good friend, and maybe, if I was not married, he would be more. He had a particular seriousness about his self. He was smart; he would speak about the stars and the way they were shaped in the sky. He pointed out the Little Dipper, the Big Dipper and the Lion. He told me the stars were always smiling. He even had a certain liking for the Greek philosopher, Aristotle.
“I value our friendship, Adam,” I said, thinking about the role he had played in my boring life.
“Me, too,” he said before I could finish.
“I don’t think we should continue seeing each other, though.”
“Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, concerned.
“No, it is not right for a married woman to spend so much time with a single man.”
“Did your husband tell you to stop talking to me?”
“Well, it does bother him.”
“I know. He told me to leave you alone. I tried to tell him you were my friend, and he wouldn’t listen.”
“So, he came to see you, too.”
“Yes, he did, but I am a man. I make my own decisions.” His expression was washed with emotions. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or loss. Did he feel he was losing me as a friend or was he angry because Simon had been so controlling? “If he continues to be absent, I will certainly step up. You are too young to be left alone.”
“I told him we were only friends. I can’t understand why he came to see you.”
“Carrie, a man can sense when he is losing. He knows I mean you well. I told him that much.”
“But we have not done anything,” I said, hurt because Simon had taken matters into his own hands, and had not trusted me.
“We are friends and that is the beginning of all good relationships.”
“I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want Simon to think the worst of me.”
“Maybe it is his own guilt he is worried about.” His comment made me uneasy. I inhaled deeply to keep from commenting about what I’d been told about my husband. Nadine, Pearl, and even Mrs. Hall knew something.
“Whatever the reason, I can’t see you anymore.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” he said, grabbing my hand.
It felt strange holding his hand after saying I didn’t want to see him. His hands were warm and thick, and his eyes more serious than ever before. There was something special about him. He reminded me of Simon when we first met. He was caring and patient.
“I won’t try to convince you of anything. Carrie, if you or your baby need anything, you know where to find me. I don’t like your decision. However, I understand.”
We stood up, turned up our collars, covering our necks from the night air, and headed back to the boarding house. He held my hand as usual. When we got to the front door, our eyes met with a compelling magnetism. He pulled me close and kissed me hard on the lips. It was something he had never done before. I was without words.
“Write me. I need to know you are studying hard,” he said.
I was still shocked from the kiss. It was unyielding and pleasant at the same time. It felt good, even though I should have been upset.
“I will,” I answered him and watched him walk down the street swiftly toward the darkness, toward a neighborhood where most of the coloreds lived.
Chapter 19
Simon had been home the entire fall break. He even had cultivated a relationship with Robert, where when Simon left the room, Robert squirmed and waved his little arms until he came back and picked him up. Things appeared strange with Simon at home. He had not been home for more than two weeks in the last four months.
Mrs. Hall had been upset ever since he’d come back. While I was away, Simon dropped Robert off late at night and picked him up the next day. She didn’t like how he did things, said it was confusing for Robert who was on a schedule.
I welcomed his presence. And for the first time in many months, my husband was home with me and my son. We were a family again. Simon had been getting up early in the morning, carrying out the chores of the house. He fed the chickens and gathered the eggs. Mr. Hall had been doing it for us. They were like family to me. A white lady in the early 1920s posing as a colored girl’s mother, with a colored husband. They were true mavericks in the neighborhood. It was strange, but everyone, especially me, needed a family away from home.
“Carrie, I need you to talk to Simon about Robert,” Mrs. Hall said the first morning I was back from school.
“What is wrong?” I asked her, reading the seriousness in her eyes.
“Simon’s been keeping Robert up past his bedtime, and he is waking up cranky. Children ought to be in bed by eight p.m. You must speak to him.”
“Why didn’t you tell him, Mrs. Hall?”
“I tried to talk to him, but I know he didn’t listen to me because he did the same thing again night before last.”
Simon being home was obviously causing a few problems. What wasn’t making sense was him drop
ping Robert off late at night, several hours beyond his bedtime. Any changes in his schedule would certainly make him cranky and interrupt Mrs. Hall’s gardening and puzzling. She spent her mornings in the yard, even when the leaves were falling off the trees, cutting back the chokeberries so her hydrangeas could bloom in the spring. Afterward, she would do word puzzles, something I knew nothing about. I had never seen a puzzle until I came to Richmond, and Mrs. Hall was working one. She purchased the New York World paper once a week from the newsstand, basically for the local news of her hometown and the word puzzles.
“I’m sorry for this. We will not do it again.” I said it knowing Simon would be the person who had to do the most changing. Now I was curious why was he leaving so late at night. Where did he spend his evenings? Along with the changing temperatures, Simon was also preoccupied with something or someone.
The first snow was falling, the flurries spinning in the air and topping the ground like a white blanket. The wind was calm. I was home, waiting for the holiday season to pass. I had arrived just before Thanksgiving. I couldn’t help thinking about Adam. Was he all right? Did he get an A in all his subjects? I had all As in spite of the newness of being away from home, and having a baby. I would say raising a baby, but Mrs. Hall had taken on that task without any complaints. I was proud of myself. It wouldn’t be long before I would be teaching my own class of students.
Adam listened to Simon. I had not seen him for a month. Simon had interrupted a good friendship. Simon was always good to me even though I had started to wonder if he was telling me the truth. Pushing past the memories of the stories of him coming in and out of town had not been easy. His visit to Adam was something I didn’t know if I could forgive him for. I was his wife, not his possession. Now, he had Mrs. Hall upset. The hours he was keeping had me questioning his whereabouts.
Simon was home every night before the sun went down. He’d come home with a plant in his hand on Tuesday, said he had been downtown talking to one of Rube Foster’s men about a permanent job with an East Coast Negro League.
I waited until Simon had finished eating. The green curtain in the kitchen window was swaying from a breeze coming through the window I’d opened to let out the scent of the fried cabbage I’d cooked for dinner.
“Simon, Mrs. Hall had a talk with me today. She doesn’t like it when you drop Robert off past his bedtime.”
“What is she talking about?” he asked with frown lines across his forehead.
“She is trying to keep him on a schedule. It is easier for everybody that way.”
“She is too attached to Robert. She don’t have no children herself and she act like he is hers.”
“No, the Halls are like family. While you were gone, they sort of became parents for the both of us.”
“I appreciate them, but Mrs. Hall is going to ruin the boy. She is going to have him thinking he is a white boy.”
“Simon, she is a good lady who happen to love our child. Please don’t put crazy thoughts in your mind. The Halls are family.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled.
His response concerned me. “The point is, you can’t take Robert to them real late at night.”
“I wouldn’t have to take him there at all if you were home with him.”
“I am home almost every weekend while you are somewhere! Who knows where?” I raised my voice.
He got up from the kitchen table. “What is this really about? Is this about Robert or me?”
“Both!” I yelled.
He stood in front of me reading the scowl on my face. “What is going on?”
“Simon, you are leaving late at night. You are dropping the baby off too late for the Halls. I have a question. Why are you going out so late at night? You are a married man.”
“Now wait a minute! It is not what you think.”
“What is it?”
“I got me a little job.”
“A job? I thought you were out playing baseball.”
“I am. But, when I need a little money, I work at the club.”
“So, I guess that is why everybody sees you around town, but me.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear. Have I ever let you down?”
“No, never. I just want you to stop taking Robert to the Halls so late.”
The words were missing. I couldn’t think of what to say. All I could see was him standing before me, towering over me and words seeping out of his lips. My responses had not been on point. Most of it was words, lacking focus.
He tried to touch me and I pulled back, and pushed his hand away.
“Calm down. I will take Robert before eight, if that will make you happy.”
“Yes, please,” I said, shaking my head.
“Carrie, believe me, everything I do is for us,” he pleaded.
“I want to believe you. I really do,” I replied, still perplexed by the conversation.
He put his arm around me. Although I was still filled with mixed emotions, I let the conversation end without tackling the job at the club. I exhaled a breath of frustration and walked away into the sitting room.
I sat in the high-back chair, stoic, with Simon standing in the door frame, Robert crawling curiously on the floor. I stared out the window at Nadine’s house and the church tower. The snow flurries had stopped and the road was clear. Everything seemed to be in order except for my mind. This was the first argument I’d ever had with my husband and it felt worse than a whipping.
“You all right?” Simon asked, peering at me from across the room.
“I’ll be okay,” I answered and reached down to pick up Robert who was at my feet.
“Just know everything I do is for us.”
I nodded my head yes.
The next night, Simon was out real late again. When he returned from the club in the early morning hours, he had a fistful of greenbacks. He was a gatekeeper or bouncer, as they called the men who kept order. He enjoyed it, and was big enough to put a little fear in any hooligans causing a ruckus.
It was going to be a long two months being at home. Each day I started my morning out the same. First, I cooked breakfast, and then got Robert dressed. Later, after the chickens were fed and the house cleaned, I’d sew clothes for Robert. He was a chunky child and was growing out of his clothes faster than I could make them. I needed to be home. I patched Simon’s socks and sewed on buttons. I made up for the time I had been gone.
Simon rose early. He would tend to the chickens and care for Robert while I was cooking and attending to the household chores. It was as mundane as it had been in Jefferson. It was a lonely quest keeping house. All day I took care of everybody, and Simon and Robert thanked me with wide smiles.
“Are you cooking for Thanksgiving or are we eating with the Halls?” Simon asked as I finished washing the last dish and turned it over to drain. Although it was my first Thanksgiving in Richmond, cooking a big feast had never crossed my mind.
“Momma wants us to come to Jefferson,” I quickly responded. “We can invite the Halls to come home with us. They don’t have anybody. Mr. Hall said all of his family is gone from around here.”
“…a white lady staying at May Lou’s?”
“Yes. We are all God’s children, right?”
“You know what I mean. The people of Jefferson don’t take too kindly to white women and colored men. Too many colored men have been killed because they settled with a white woman. I don’t need any trouble.”
“They will be at Momma’s. They are not going to church with us. Besides, we are only going to stay one night.”
“Next year, we are going to have dinner here.”
“I can’t cook all those pies and cakes like Momma.”
“You can learn. Maybe you should ask her a few questions while we are there.”
“Questions?”
“Yes, ask her how to make some of her recipes. She will tell you.”
Me being at home had him in some sort of daze. His imaginings of me cooking and cleaning
and having a dinner feast did not sit right with me. I didn’t mind cooking for my family, but Simon seemed to be a bit overboard, almost excited when he talked about me preparing delicious dishes for him, especially the kind Momma made. The next thing he would want to do is invite the entire Colored League to sample my cooking.
Chapter 20
The Halls had a hard time making the decision to go with us to Jefferson County. Mrs. Hall was fine with the idea, but Mr. Hall had some deep reservations.
“I don’t want no trouble down there. Folks can’t understand us.”
“Everybody knows it, George,” she said. It was the first time I’d ever heard his name. Most of the time, she referred to him as Mr. Hall.
Then he added between puffs of his pipe, “We would have had a much better life had we gone to Canada like we planned. People don’t understand us. I’m sort of glad we don’t have children. I know they would be mistreated.”
“George, why are you bringing up all of that? The child just wants to know if we will be going with them to her momma’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. People down South are different. Hell, the people right here in Richmond barely speak to us.”
“We are used to it. After thirty-five years, nothing surprises me,” she said, smiling and shaking her head at the same time. “Carrie, we would love to go.”
She cut her eyes over at Mr. Hall. He grunted, but didn’t dare say anything else.
I was so excited to hear her answer. After being around them for the past eight months, I had forgotten about the color difference. They treated us like family and we did the same for them. Mrs. Hall would often bring up homemade cookies. Her oatmeal cookies were mighty fine, but no one could make them like Momma. It was the thought, anyhow, which mattered. The only two white ladies I’d known before Mrs. Hall were Mrs. Ferguson and Mrs. Gaines and neither of them had a knack for cooking. I supposed it was the reason they hired someone else to do the job.
Robert sat between me and Simon. Mr. and Mrs. Hall sat in back. It was a good morning, the temperature hovering around 68. It was warm for a fall day, especially since two days before the snow flurries had been dusting the rooftops and blanketing the ground. There was a breeze stirring, and the trees were leaning to the left. Everyone was ready to go when Nadine walked up to the car.
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