Now, after all this time, Ruby had managed to track him down. Now, when it was too late. His stomach heaved and he felt another head rush.
Calvin placed his call, his knuckles white on the receiver. How was he going to tell Ruby he was married? He still didn’t believe it himself. Actually, he didn’t want to believe it. While he waited for the call to go through he thought about his new wife.
Eve Baylor was seven years his senior and hailed from Charleston, South Carolina. He’d met her at the Officers’ Club in Charleston. He’d been drawn to her because she looked as unhappy as he felt. He’d been cautious, though, waiting to see if her plain, schoolmarmish appearance appealed to any of the other officers. It took all of thirty minutes to screw up the courage to walk over to her table, certain he would be rebuffed for his efforts. She’d accepted his offer to buy her a drink. She’d been polite, nothing more. An hour into a strained conversation, she had said she hated men, and Calvin had responded by saying he hated women. Neither discussed the reasons for their feelings.
A friendship of sorts blossomed based on mutual loneliness. She was a teacher and had a manner of speaking that irritated Calvin. She was also bossy, dictatorial, and manipulative, but Calvin didn’t care; she was someone to spend his lonely hours with. He thought of her as a friend, and, as such, wanted to tell her about Ruby, but something always held him back. He never felt the urge to kiss her or hold her hand in a romantic way. Secretly, he thought her a cold fish and pitied the poor guy who eventually got her into his bed. He’d tried to be open with her, telling her stories about his fellow officers and a few off-color jokes, but she didn’t respond the way he hoped she would. He came to the conclusion she was frigid and a prude as well. She was also a Southern Baptist, and that bothered him. When it came right down to it, everything about her bothered him.
As the months wore on, however, Calvin found himself getting used to her sharp tongue, her mannerisms, and way of doing things. He felt comfortable with Eve because he didn’t care. It was that simple.
The Sunday she invited him to her parents’ home for dinner was an experience he would never forget.
He’d taken the military bus from the base and got off in the Battery section and walked the four short blocks to Eve’s house. His first sight of Eve’s home left him gasping. It was beautiful with its wrap-around porch and stained glass windows. The azaleas and oaks surrounding the house had to be at least a hundred years old. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in a house as wonderful as this one. He was so overcome with longing and the need to belong, he didn’t notice the chipped and missing cobblestones in the walkway or the rotting, peeling paint on the veranda or the dry rot in the porch floor. His gaze was so taken with the upper portion of the stained glass windows, he missed their rotting frames.
The doorbell was in the shape of a brass key. He turned it clockwise, blinking. It sounded like a dirge. He stared around the wide veranda with its ancient wicker furniture and wondered if the furniture was safe to sit on.
The massive oak door groaned as it opened, and Eve ushered him into the house which smelled of eucalyptus, cat urine, and the kind of liniment he rubbed on his aching legs after a hike. The smell was so overpowering, he started to breathe through his mouth.
Heat poured out of registers in the floor, and he noticed a raging fire in the massive fieldstone fireplace. The urge to bolt was strong, but he planted his feet solidly on the dull oak floor while he waited for Eve to introduce him to her family.
He’d assumed that Eve had told them about him, so he wasn’t prepared for their gaping expressions at the sight of him. Her father, stone-faced, didn’t offer his hand in greeting. Calvin did his best to stare him down but was unsuccessful. A retired colonel, he still favored his brush cut. Formidable, Calvin thought, and bigoted. He shook his head in something Calvin interpreted as disgust.
Eve’s mother was an older version of Eve. Straight-backed, every hair in place, her face and neck powdered, with the fine granules lying in her deep wrinkles. Calvin wondered crazily if she was wearing a mask. She was dressed in an outdated, faded purple dress with a high neckline and wore a cameo brooch that called attention to her stringy neck. Austere, Calvin decided when her face remained cool and unwelcoming. She had the coldest eyes Calvin had ever seen.
The sister, Bea, was older than Eve and looked so much like her, they could have passed for twins. There was no welcoming smile on her face, either.
The introductions over, Eve led him into the front parlor, where the fire raged. She motioned for him to sit down and offered him a glass of wine, which he spilled when a huge black cat leapt onto his shoulder. Irene, Eve’s mother, clucked her tongue in disapproval before she ordered Bea to “see to this mess.” Eve refilled his glass while Timothy, her father, kept shaking his head. He wasn’t passing muster, of that Calvin was sure.
The silence was so uncomfortable, it was deadly. Eve did nothing to break the silence, sitting with her ankles crossed and her hands folded in her lap as Bea trooped into the room with a bucket and a basket of rags and wiped the spill.
Minutes later, at some prearranged silent signal, the family rose and walked single file into the dining room, which was dark and dreary.
The room had a musty, unused smell, but even here he could smell the cat urine and liniment. No attempt had been made to wipe the dust from the mahogany sideboard or from the immense crystal chandelier hanging over the middle of the table. His visit was an inconvenience, and no attempt had been made to impress him. Eve pointed to a seat next to hers. He was about to hold the chair for her, when she sat down and pulled it closer to the table.
Calvin risked a glance at Irene as she said grace. Her thin lips barely moved. The words said she was thanking God for the food they were about to eat, but the tone was sharp and belligerent, as though she didn’t want to share it with their guest. Without thinking, Calvin blessed himself and was rewarded with three piercing stares of disapproval. He knew, even though he couldn’t see Eve’s eyes, that they looked the same. What in the goddamn hell was he doing here?
“We don’t talk during our meal,” Timothy Baylor said in a voice choked with rage. Eve, Calvin knew, was going to be the recipient of that rage the minute he left.
After dinner, when he stepped into the bathroom, he heard the three women talking about him in the kitchen, their words carrying distinctly through the heat register. He listened, his shoulders slumping. The sisters were calling each other old maids.
“If he’s the best you can do, then you deserve him. You’re shaming us. He’s the same as a nigger!” the mother said coldly. “Your father almost had a stroke. You had no right to bring someone like that into this house. Your granddaddy had slaves who were as dark as he is. You have no shame, Eve, none at all. The neighbors saw him coming here, what will they think of us?”
Calvin’s face flamed. He sat down on the toilet to stop the trembling in his legs. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out with a loud swoosh. The least Eve could have done was defend him. For Christ’s sake, they were friends, nothing more. What kind of people were the Baylors? What kind of person was Eve?
Calvin’s hand was on the doorknob when he heard Bea cry, “I had a chance to get married, but you and father didn’t like Jason because he had a lame leg. You said he wasn’t an asset to this family. Now he has a family of his own, he built his own house, and is vice president of the Charleston Bank. You ruined my life!”
“That will be enough from you, missy,” Irene said sharply. “You can’t be blaming your father and me because you don’t have husbands. Neither one of you can hold a real man.”
Calvin slammed the bathroom door behind him and stormed out of the house. He was on the cobblestones before he realized Eve was following him.
“Are we still going to the movies on Wednesday?”
Calvin swiveled on his heel. “I thought we were friends, for God’s sake. Why did you do this to me?
If this is southern hospitality, you can keep it!”
“You didn’t answer me, Calvin. Are we going to the movies on Wednesday or not?”
“Why? Do you have dates lined up around the corner?” Calvin snarled.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Eve demanded.
“I’m going. If you want to go, meet me outside the theater.” What the hell else could he say?
The months that followed were much the same. Twice more he went to the Baylor house and couldn’t explain why he tortured himself. The day Timothy Baylor called him “boy” as though he were addressing a slave he knew he would never fit in. He told Eve he never wanted to go back.
“Then don’t,” she said.
Three months later, on a warm Saturday afternoon at a sidewalk cafe, Calvin said he was being sent to the Philippines. “I’m going on a temporary basis and will return in six weeks and then go back for my hitch. I leave on Monday. And, as soon as we finish our coffee I have to leave. If you want, I’ll write.” He stared across at Eve. He still didn’t know this strange woman sitting across from him. He referred to her as a friend, but so far they’d not shared anything more than dinner, a cup of coffee, or a movie. Maybe if she were prettier, a little younger, or if she had a sense of humor, he would have made more of an effort. If he had to sum up their strange relationship, he would say they were two lonely people who shared time together once in a while. He wondered if he would miss her, if he would mind being alone again in a strange country. Then he did something he thought himself incapable of doing, something so insane he wanted to rip out his tongue the minute the words left his mouth. He said, “Do you want to get married?”
There was no smile on Eve’s plain face, no light of excitement in her eyes the way there had been when he had asked Ruby the same thing. She seemed to be weighing his question, mulling it over in her mind as though she weren’t sure of what he said. “I don’t have anything else to do. I guess it’s a good idea.”
“You do!” Calvin gasped in surprise. “I ... I thought ... what you said was ... you hated men. I’m a man.” Jesus, had he really said that aloud?
“You said you hated women. At least we have that in common. I’m not getting any younger,” she said bluntly. “I would like to have a child. You don’t seem to fare too well in the female department, so if I’m willing to accept you as you are, then you can accept me.”
“Your family . . .” Calvin said desperately.
“You won’t be here, so why worry about them? Their attitudes are their problems, not yours. They’re never going to accept you; you have to understand that.”
Calvin’s heart pounded in his chest. He had to get out of this. “Why don’t we wait till I come back? This way we’ll both have time to think about it. It’s a serious step, and I don’t want to alienate you from your family. As you said, I have trouble meeting women, and as your mother said in the kitchen, you don’t do well in hanging on to a man.” This last was said with bitterness, although he felt contrite when he saw Eve flinch.
If there was one thing Eve Baylor dreaded more than anything in the world, it was becoming an old maid. In the South, a woman didn’t count for anything unless she had a Mrs. in front of her name. A husband and a child made her respectable.
“I don’t need time to think, Calvin. If you’re serious, then I’m serious. We can decide right now before you leave. You’ll want me to convert to Catholicism, won’t you?” Calvin nodded weakly. “Then I can take instructions while you’re away. When you return, we can get married quietly in your priest’s house, not the church, because my family will throw a fit. I might not even tell them I’m converting until ... until I’m an actual Catholic. The question is, Calvin, are you serious?”
Calvin cleared his throat. Now his honor was at stake. By one careless, impulsive move, his whole life was changing right before his eyes. Was he serious? Hell no, he wasn’t. The only problem was, he didn’t know how to get out of the mess he’d just stuck both feet into without seeming an out-and-out skunk. “I suppose I’m as serious as you are.”
“I guess it’s settled, then. I’ll make the arrangements when I go to the church to sign up for the conversion program, or whatever you call it. I’ll write you.”
“How can you do that when you don’t have my address?”
“I’ll have to wait to hear from you, and then I’ll write. Do you feel all right, Calvin? You look a little pale.”
“No, I’m fine. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything you want to share with me, secrets you want to unburden?” Eve asked suddenly.
“Should there be? I don’t seem to recall you sharing any with me. I do recall hearing your mother say there was a long string of men before me. Do you want to talk about that?”
“No, I don’t. We’ll start fresh. Your business is yours and mine is mine. One thing, though, Calvin, I want your word that you will never be unfaithful to me. I want your word as an officer and a gentleman.”
Calvin shrugged. “You have it. What about you, do I have your word?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Calvin. I really do hate men. So if you ever shame me, I’ll make your life miserable until the day you die.”
Calvin shivered in the warm sun. “Since I really do hate women, I don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem.”
As good as his word, he’d returned to Charleston in six weeks and married Eve at four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. The church secretary was Eve’s matron of honor and his best man was the janitor. Eve’s sister and parents did not attend the wedding. Calvin considered their absence a blessing.
An hour after the wedding they drove in Eve’s rattletrap car to Columbia for their honeymoon, a honeymoon that was a total disaster as far as Calvin was concerned. His face and ears turned various shades of red as he remembered the shame and humiliation of his wedding night.
Anxious, yet excited, he didn’t bother to remove his pajamas and undershorts that he’d bought for his honeymoon. He was light-headed with anticipation as he rolled on top of Eve and ejaculated almost immediately. He reared back, his head snapping at an awkward angle when Eve screeched, “I thought you knew what to do!”
In his shame and dizziness he forgot to be a gentleman. “I didn’t know you were so damn knowledgeable. I thought you were a virgin!” he accused.
Eve jerked away from her new husband. “I didn’t think you were a virgin. Men your age aren’t suppose to be virgins,” Eve said, her voice dripping venom. “If you were wearing any more clothes, you’d be outfitted for a ski team.”
“Don’t talk about what I’m wearing, look at yourself. New brides usually wear silky, slinky nightgowns. You look like an old woman in those pajamas, and you have on a bra and underpants, Jesus, how was I supposed ... this is our goddamn wedding night.” Embarrassment and anger drove him on. “I couldn’t even find your ... oh, shit!”
“You found it and shot off as soon as you did. What about me? Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am,” Eve said, rolling over on her side of the bed.
“You mean I was in!” Calvin said stupidly. A split second later he wanted to bite off his tongue when Eve rolled back over and slapped him in the face.
“Are you saying I’m so big you got ... you didn’t . . . oh, you hateful bastard. You’re too small is more like it!”
Calvin recoiled. It was the final insult to his heritage and his manhood. He wanted to reach out and strangle his new wife. His manhood demanded he retaliate. “As compared to who!” he barked. “How many, Eve, how many before me? Give me numbers and measurements. Now I know why you hate men,” he ground on. “And I was the fool who married you! Well, we can change that real quick. When we get back to Charleston, we’ll file for divorce! You’re just a damn dried-up old maid.” If he’d thought for days and weeks, he couldn’t have come up with anything that would hurt Eve more. He saw the tears in her eyes and the way she cowered up close to the headboard of the bed. She�
��d struck the first blow, why shouldn’t he retaliate?
Divorced on her honeymoon! She’d never live it down and would be the laughingstock of Charleston. Dumped on her honeymoon by a damn ... damn foreigner! She couldn’t let that happen. Her parents ... her friends ... this was no time for stupid pride. In a voice she hardly recognized as her own she set about trying to make things right.
“Calvin, we’re both upset. Things ... we said things we didn’t mean, at least I did. I’m sorry. It’s just that ... we each expected ... certain things ... we should have talked, shared our thoughts and what it was we expected ... I’ll take half the blame for that. Going against my parents . . . it’s been traumatic for me ... here in the South, women are brought up differently ... what I said was hateful and I’m sorry. I’m willing to put this evening behind us and do my best to make up for your ... disappointment.” She risked a glance at him, then threw in the clunker. “I changed my religion for you, and you know the Catholic Church forbids divorce. I changed my religion, Calvin. I don’t know too many women who would do that for the man they marry.” His countenance remained stony. “Let’s get it all out in the open, Calvin, You are different. You’re not white and I am. You’re from a different culture, a different land. That’s one of the things we should have discussed. We can’t pretend you’re the same as me because you’re not. I accept you, and you’ll have to accept me. I want to try again. Not right away. Tomorrow will do or the day after. It’s up to you.”
Seasons of Her Life Page 19