Southern Ruby

by Belinda Alexandra

  A young coloured woman dressed in a mauve slim-fitting dress suit with a cape collar walked into the room holding the hands of two equally well-dressed coloured children.

  ‘We should get our coats and set off if we want to see the parade,’ she said. Then noticing me, she apologised.

  ‘This is my wife, Clarita,’ said Christophe, with pride in his voice. ‘And these are our children, Adolphe and Isabelle.’

  Isabelle, who looked as adorable as Shirley Temple, stared up at me. ‘You’re pretty,’ she said.

  I kneeled down to her. ‘Well, you’re pretty too. And your brother is very handsome, don’t you think?’

  She nodded shyly and the adults chuckled.

  Philomena helped us all with our coats and scarves. When we reached the garden gate, Isabelle clasped my hand. ‘I’m going to walk with you.’

  Clarita’s eyes darted to mine. I would have liked nothing more than to hold darling Isabelle’s hand as we walked, but I knew what her mother was worrying about.

  ‘You’d better hold on tight to your mama’s hand too, because we don’t want to lose you,’ I said to Isabelle.

  ‘No, I always hold Mama’s hand. I want to hold yours today,’ she insisted, giving me a winsome smile that showed her tiny white teeth. Clarita bit her lip and nodded to me. We set off in the direction of the parade. Until the tension over the integration of schools, New Orleans had been an easy-going city. But in the current mood it didn’t surprise me that people glared at me and the Lalandes for walking in the company of coloured people who were clearly not our servants. I hoped they might assume we were out-of-towners from the North who didn’t know any better but unfortunately too many people recognised the Lalandes. Even during a wonderful time like Mardi Gras, people couldn’t forget their divisions.

  A woman bumped into my arm roughly. A foul-smelling man sidled up to me and muttered, ‘I’ll kill you. Chop you up like a racoon, you nigger-loving bitch!’ I shivered. He reminded me of Jimmy.

  Isabelle didn’t notice their hostility, she was too taken by a group of children who were dressed as pink rabbits, but Clifford did and stepped up to my side, while Christophe walked next to his wife. When Isabelle was distracted by a harlequin, Clarita discreetly took Isabelle’s free hand and I let go of her.

  ‘I’m glad most of the white people here won’t have seen the Louisiana Weekly,’ I told Clifford. ‘Otherwise I’m going to get myself a reputation for being a troublemaker.’

  ‘You’re walking with a group of troublemakers,’ he replied. ‘It’s already guilt by association. Do you mind?’

  I shook my head. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t have come.’

  His eyes lit up and he squeezed my arm. ‘Thank you, Ruby. I admire your courage.’

  The excitement was building as we reached the corner of St Charles and Napoleon avenues. The beat of the marching bands’ drums and the roar of police motorcycles got louder, signifying that the parade and its floats were approaching. Christophe lifted Isabelle onto his shoulders. Rex appeared on his throne at the head of the parade, giving the spectators his royal wave. The crowd cheered and as the floats passed, people reached up their hands to receive the trinkets and beads dispensed by the riders. ‘Throw me something, mister!’ they called, giving the traditional cry.

  The theme for this year’s Rex Parade was the life of George Washington. The floats illustrated stories from his life, including the one about him cutting down his father’s favourite cherry tree, his military victories during the American Revolution, and his inauguration as the first president of the United States. One of the floats carried a banner emblazoned with his famous quote: Happiness and moral duty are inseparably connected.

  I glanced at Clifford. ‘That reminds me of something you said to me when I first met you: “You’ve got to do what’s right even if it hurts you, otherwise the human race is headed for disaster.”’

  His eyes swept over my face and he parted his lips slightly. For one uneasy moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he shook his head dolefully. ‘It used to be full house at our home on Mardi Gras day. Just as well you declined my invitation to the ball because my name has been struck from the guest list. Everything that has happened has taught me about the ugliness of the human race. But I’ve also seen inner beauty and courage, and that makes me willing to fight on.’

  I sensed his loneliness and his desire to have me by his side. I knew then no matter how much I tried to avoid it, I was going to have to set things straight with him soon. I could not mislead this fine human being.

  After the parade, we returned to the Lalande home for lunch. Kitty showed me to the powder room upstairs so I could fix my hair and reapply my lipstick.

  ‘Jackie was unbearable,’ she confided. ‘I’m glad Clifford broke it off with her.’

  I put my lipstick back in my purse and snapped it shut. ‘He broke it off with her? I had the impression that it was a mutual parting of the ways.’

  ‘No. Clifford is a gentleman and has done everything to make it appear that way, including being discreet with you. But as patient as he is, I think it got too much for him. Jackie has a college education but she’s lame-brained. She talks about nothing but who is going to marry who and the latest scandal. It’s near impossible for anyone intelligent to listen to her for more than five minutes.’

  ‘She likes scandals?’ I asked, a nervous feeling gnawing at my stomach.

  ‘She eats them for breakfast. Unfortunately, she wields them like a weapon too — she’s destroyed a few reputations that way.’

  I turned to the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘She wouldn’t harm Clifford, would she? They’ve been friends since they were children.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she?’ Kitty leaned against the wall. ‘She’s damn angry about the broken engagement. For a plain-looking girl like her, Clifford was a real catch. Fortunately, there are no scandals in Clifford’s life. He’s as honest as they come.’

  Mrs Lalande called us downstairs and I followed Kitty to the dining room with my head throbbing. So Jackie was a spiteful person? My not being truthful with Clifford could do him a lot more damage than simply hurting his feelings. It could do irreparable damage to his cause.

  The table had been decorated festively for Mardi Gras, with Venetian glass pitchers and goblets, beads, and a centrepiece of a crown and sceptre. While the lunch was buffet style, with tureens of red beans and rice, stuffed peppers, redfish court-bouillon and green beans set out on a side table, the main table had been laid with gold and green plates and the cutlery was wrapped in napkins and tied with purple masks. But even the sight of such a lavish table couldn’t cheer me. I made up my mind that I would set things straight with Clifford before Mardi Gras was over.

  After we were all seated, Mrs Lalande proposed a toast, again quoting George Washington: ‘Be courteous to all, but intimate with a few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.’

  When it was time to leave, Clifford walked me to the gate. I slipped the address of the club into his hand and told him, ‘I’m working tonight, but I want to meet you at the Vieux Carré Club afterwards. Eleven o’clock.’

  He looked surprised by the location, but nodded. ‘All right, Ruby.’ The note of trust in his voice pinched my heart. ‘I’ve heard they play excellent jazz there but I’ve never been.’

  As I walked home, I kept bumping into people and taking wrong turns. I knew that tonight would bring things to an end with Clifford for good. Part of me was sorry, but part of me was relieved too. I was proud of Jewel and proud that by my own enterprise I’d taken care of Maman and Mae. Why should I be ashamed of that, or of Leroy, or anything else?

  That night’s show was an extravaganza, with comedians, singers, magicians and the dance band booked to play until four in the morning. Tickets were five times the normal cost and had been reserved weeks in advance, but the maître d’ promised to squeeze in a table for Clifford when he arrived. I wanted him placed near
the stage where he could get a good view of my act, but I didn’t intend to reveal I was Ruby until after my performance.

  My gown for my final routine was silver satin embellished with rhinestones and sequins, with sleeves fashioned like angel wings. The song was a jazzed-up version of ‘Angel Eyes’. In the dressing room, I attempted to add more false lashes to my eyelids but my hand shook so much I ended up poking myself in the eye. A vein was pulsing in my temple and I had to breathe in and out slowly to make it disappear. My gaze constantly returned to the clock on the wall. At quarter-hour intervals I found myself imagining what Clifford would be doing at that moment: eating dinner with his family; dressing for the club; stepping into a cab. When the hands reached ten-thirty I couldn’t sit still any longer. I opened the door to the hall and called the stage manager. The band was playing ‘There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight’.

  ‘Is my guest here?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, he arrived about ten minutes ago. Real nice gentleman. He seems to be enjoying the show.’

  Not since the first time I’d performed at the Havana Club had I been so jittery before going on stage.

  ‘You want something?’ Annie asked when she came in to help me with my headdress. ‘Can I get you a drink? Or a Miltown?’

  A lot of performers at the club took ‘happy pills’ to steady their nerves. But I wanted to meet Clifford with a clear head.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ I told her. ‘It’s the biggest crowd we’ve ever had, that’s all.’

  As I climbed the stairs to the wing, my legs trembled as if I were heading towards the gallows rather than the stage.

  ‘Give it your best,’ the stage manager told me. It was what he always said.

  I swallowed. Was I really going through with this? My throat tightened with panic but I resisted the urge to flee. I glimpsed Leroy waiting with the rest of the band for the cue from the stage manager. He grinned at me. I had to do this for him as well as out of decency to Clifford.

  All conversation ceased when I stepped onto the podium. I couldn’t bring myself to look in Clifford’s direction though I was aware of him in my peripheral vision. My number was sultry, with a lot of slinky struts and shoulder rolls and holding my arms out to simulate flying. Only when I was down to my underwear did I allow myself a glance at Clifford. He was watching me intently but his face was expressionless. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  When I returned to my dressing room, my heart was pounding and my hands and feet had turned to ice. I removed my wig and stage make-up, before taking off my performance lingerie and changing into a blue silk faille dress so I could reveal myself to Clifford as Ruby. How horrible would those first moments be? Would he get mad and make a scene? Or say nothing and walk away? Or even worse, would he resent being made a fool of and tell Maman?

  The last scenario was so terrifying that I nearly backed out of telling the truth at all. I could simply go out the stage door, come in the main entrance and say I was late because I’d been held up at the telephone exchange. A knock at the dressing-room door made me jump. I opened it, expecting the stage manager, but instead I found the nervous-looking maître d’ with Clifford standing behind him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Jewel, but your guest insists on seeing you right now.’

  I was breathing so rapidly I could hardly get my words out. ‘It’s all right, Claude.’

  Clifford brushed past the maître d’ and shut the door behind him. I braced myself for an ugly scene. Somehow, despite my full costume and under the lavender lights in a different setting and doing something nobody would expect Ruby to do, Clifford had recognised me.

  His gaze travelled from the costumes hanging on a rack to my dressing table covered in brushes and pots of colour. He picked up a powder puff and examined it before sitting down in a spare chair and squinting at me. ‘Explain this to me, Ruby, because I can’t get a handle on it. What’s going on?’

  The calmness in his voice was unnerving. ‘How did you recognise me?’

  He regarded me for a moment before answering. ‘Did you think I wasn’t going to? It doesn’t matter what a woman does to her hair and clothing, a man will always recognise the woman he loves.’

  I sat down at my dressing table. His solicitous tone made me realise that Clifford truly loved me; maybe not passionately, but sincerely. I straightened my shoulders and looked him in the eye.

  ‘I didn’t know any other way to show you what I do for a living. Working at the telephone exchange wouldn’t have been enough to get us out of the debt we were in. I had to save Maman and Mae from ruin, only I had to ruin Ruby in the process.’

  He shook his head as if he were mystified. ‘Is that what you believe — that you are “ruined”? What does that mean anyway?’

  That the conversation wasn’t going in any direction I had expected made my head spin. I struggled to explain what I had always assumed without question. ‘It means that I can never marry well.’

  ‘Marry well,’ Clifford repeated. He stood up and paced around the room. ‘What does that mean?’

  I flinched. ‘What does that mean? It means marrying someone with standing in society . . . from a good family,’ I said.

  ‘Is that what you wanted, Ruby? To marry someone with a position in society?’ he asked, his voice hardening. ‘What about respect and companionship? Aren’t those things important to you too?’

  I wrung my hands, wrestling with beliefs I had always accepted without question.

  ‘If marrying well was your chief desire in life, I don’t think you would have sacrificed it even to save your mother and your maid,’ he said. ‘I think you’re a woman who lives by her heart. You love them and that’s why you did what you did. A woman who wants to marry well doesn’t risk her place in society by turning up at a meeting supporting integration, does she?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, rubbing my forehead. ‘I’ve never thought about it like that. I only did what I felt was the right thing to do.’

  Clifford sat down again with his hands on his knees and sucked in a breath. ‘Marrying well by New Orleans standards would have tied me to Jackie Fausey and her family forever.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I don’t want that. I want a woman with both passion and compassion, and I’ve found her in you, Ruby.’

  I was so confused that I wanted to cry. I’d thought that revealing myself as Jewel would send him running, but he seemed even more enamoured than before.

  ‘But if anyone finds out what I do for a living, it will ruin you, Clifford. It will destroy your credibility for a cause you care deeply about.’

  ‘That word “ruin” again,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Would it have been better for the cause if I’d married Jackie? Do you know what she said to me? “I don’t care if coloured people are equal to us in intelligence or even in God’s eyes. We need people to be our maids and clean our shoes and do all the jobs we don’t want to do. That’s why we have to keep niggers in their place.”’

  I stopped wringing my hands and sat back. There was a lot more to Clifford Lalande than met the eye. I wanted to know about what happened with Jackie but I was aware of the whispers in the corridor outside. There was nothing people at the Vieux Carré Club loved more than gossip, and I was sure the maître d’ had told everyone that I had a wealthy man in my dressing room, something I’d never done before, and that he was my special guest for the evening. I dreaded to think what Leroy might make of it.

  I’d intended to reveal to Clifford what I did for a living but not about Leroy. But he’d opened his heart to me and he deserved the truth. ‘Clifford, I couldn’t tell you what I do in front of Maman — I hope you understand? She comes from a different world from us. If she knew that I’m dancing for money, it would destroy her. But . . .’

  ‘But what, Ruby? There’s something else you want to tell me, isn’t there?’

  I stared at my lap and nodded.

  ‘Is there someone else?’

  I looked up at him but I couldn’t bring myself
to respond, and Clifford took my silence as my answer.

  ‘Well, lucky guy!’ he said, blowing out his cheeks and running his hand through his hair. ‘At least it explains your attitude to me. Why doesn’t your mother know about him?’

  I bit my lip before answering, ‘He’s coloured. That’s why Maman doesn’t know about him, and that’s why I came to the meeting. I love him and his family, and I want a good life for us all.’

  Clifford stood up and started pacing again. ‘Good God, Ruby! Do you know what you’re doing?’

  Here it comes, I thought. All this talk about equality is fine until a white woman actually goes and falls in love with a Negro man. I was ready to admonish him for his hypocrisy, but when I looked into his face I didn’t see anger in his expression, only concern.

  ‘Ruby, you are too many decades ahead of your time,’ he said. ‘But if you love him, he must be a fine man.’

  I had a sudden desire to unburden myself to Clifford. It was as if he understood things about me that I didn’t understand myself.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ I told him. ‘I know we aren’t safe here, but I can’t leave Maman. He loves his family too.’

  Clifford shook his head. Although his disappointment weighed on his features, there was no bitterness in his voice when he said: ‘I wish I could advise you, but I can’t. Be true to your heart, Ruby, that’s the best any of us can do.’ He moved to the door and when he opened it, a burst of music and laughter sounded from the club. Before stepping into the hallway he turned back to me. ‘If ever you need my help, you come to me, Ruby. Do you understand? I mean what I’m saying. If ever you need help, come to me.’

  After that night at the Vieux Carré Club, I didn’t need any more proof that Clifford was a gentleman, but when he wrote a note to Maman explaining that he had to leave town for some time and would call on her when he got back, I knew that he’d done it so the break between us wouldn’t seem so sudden.