by Robin Talley
Would Marie’s coworker and her friend be like Sam and Betty? Would they expect Janet to be fashionable and worldly?
She wondered how their home would look. If it was an apartment, like the one in Greenwich Village that Sam and Betty shared, Janet didn’t feel nearly sophisticated enough to enter such a place.
Too soon, their taxi was pulling up to the curb. The house Miss Barrett and her friend shared was bigger than Janet’s or Marie’s, with a real lawn out front, and on either side, too. In Georgetown, the houses shared walls with the houses on either side with no more than a sidewalk in front, but here each residence stood alone.
The house was bright and clean, with a wide, covered porch and pretty, flowered curtains drawn across the windows. Marie paid the driver while Janet climbed out with apprehension.
The front door opened as the girls started up the porch steps. The tallest woman Janet had ever seen stepped onto the porch. Her short hair was styled in curls, and she wore brown slacks with a white blouse. She didn’t smile, but when she beckoned to Janet and Marie, the gesture was friendly enough. “Come in, you two, come right on in.”
“Hello again.” Another Negro woman stepped into the door frame, smiling at Marie. She was shorter, with longer hair, and she wore a simple pink dress. “This must be your friend.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Marie nodded nervously. “It was so kind of you to invite us here. May I present—”
“Let’s go inside for the introductions, shall we?” The taller woman smiled this time, but her lips looked stiff. The other woman ushered them inside and closed the door firmly in their wake.
The house was as lovely inside as outside, with polished knickknacks, many in the shape of cats, arrayed on spotless furniture. Janet couldn’t help but notice, though, that the drawn curtains that had looked so pretty from the street lent a dark, harsh feel to the room. She wondered why the two of them didn’t let in more light.
“I’m ever so pleased for you to meet my friend, Janet Jones.” Marie finished her introduction with a short bob. Janet beamed—she loved Marie’s perfectly proper manners. Marie glanced up and shared her smile. All at once, their argument by the bus station seemed a distant memory.
“How do you do, Miss Jones.” The shorter woman’s manners were as smooth as Marie’s. “You can call me Carol. And this is Dr. Valerie Mitchell.”
“Please, call me Mitch,” the tall woman said, pumping Janet’s arm in a firm handshake.
Janet turned to Marie to see if she’d known, but she looked just as surprised as she shook Mitch’s hand.
“You’re a doctor?” The words were out of Janet’s mouth before she could remember to be polite. If only she’d paid as much attention in etiquette class as Marie.
“Yes! The only colored woman doctor in America!” Mitch let out a short laugh, but she didn’t look amused. “That’s what you’d probably think anyway. Have a seat, girls. Carol, shall we get them something to drink? Do you two like martinis?”
Marie answered for them both while Janet blushed. “That would be lovely, thank you, ma’am.”
Carol disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Janet and Marie alone with Mitch. The doctor settled into a large armchair opposite the sofa where the two younger girls perched awkwardly. They were overdressed, Janet realized, both in their very best clothes while Mitch and Carol were dressed more like they might on any casual summer afternoon.
Carol returned with a drink-laden tray and set each glass on the coffee table. As she sat down, she laid a hand on Mitch’s shoulder and squeezed it, holding it there a moment too long to be a friendly touch.
So it was true.
Janet watched them, mesmerized. Two women, together. Acting as any other couple might.
Then she realized Mitch was watching her just as closely. “So, Miss Jones.”
“Please, ma’am, call me Janet.”
“Janet, then.” Mitch sat forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. “We know a bit about your friend Marie, but not much about you. Are you a student?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Something stuck in Janet’s throat. She cleared it with an awkward cough. “That is, I start college in September.”
“Which college?” Mitch asked her. “One around here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Holy Divinity.”
Mitch raised her eyebrows. “Are you working this summer?”
“Yes, at the Soda Shoppe on M Street. I’m a carhop.”
Mitch smiled. An orange cat slunk across the floor between her ankles, purring. She leaned down to pet it without taking her eyes off Janet. “Do you plan to work for the government after you finish school?”
Janet shifted. She hadn’t expected all these questions. She wanted to look at Marie, but she didn’t want Mitch to think she was nervous. “I suppose I’m not sure yet. I’d meant to study journalism.”
“Journalism?” Mitch’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “Is your father in that field? Does he write for the Post?”
“Oh, no.” Janet laughed at the idea of her long-winded father working as a beat reporter. “He works on Capitol Hill. He’s a lawyer for one of the Senate committees.”
Mitch sat back, glancing at Carol and drawing her hands into her lap. Carol withdrew into her chair, too. Janet didn’t understand the look that passed between them.
“Internal Security?” Carol asked after a moment.
“No, Government Operations.”
“He’s a Democrat?”
“A Republican.”
Mitch stood up.
Janet didn’t understand what was happening. She reached for Marie’s hand and found that Marie was reaching out for her, too. Reassurance flowed through Janet at her touch.
Mitch and Carol looked down, their eyes zeroing in on the girls’ clasped hands.
Janet sprang away from Marie in an instant. She didn’t know what to make of these two.
Mitch turned back to Carol. “I think you were right.”
“Well, now I’m not so sure myself.” Carol eyed Janet. “Miss Jones, if you’ve come here with instructions from your father, or anyone else, we ask only that you tell us. It’s the polite thing to do, given that we’ve invited you into our home.”
“I—I don’t understand.” Janet turned helplessly to Marie.
“Janet didn’t know about this invitation until a few minutes ago.” Marie looked anxiously from Carol to Mitch and back again. “We didn’t tell her father where we were going. I didn’t even tell Janet herself until we were already in the taxi, so there’s no way she could’ve—Carol, please, I don’t understand what this is all about.”
Carol nodded, slowly.
“You must understand our caution.” Mitch’s eyes lingered on Janet. “We don’t let many strangers into our home. You can’t be too careful these days.”
The curtains, drawn across every window. Janet was beginning to understand.
“I want to trust you girls, though,” Mitch continued. “You’re quite the picture of innocence.”
Carol laughed, and Janet felt herself flush.
“I think it’s all right.” Mitch looked at Carol. “What do you think?”
Carol nodded again, but her eyes were still wary.
Mitch settled back into her chair. “As soon as Carol told me about you two, I wanted to meet you. I imagine you’re curious about us, too. Would you like to hear how we came to be here, together?”
“Of course!” Janet’s eagerness bubbled into her voice, even though she couldn’t tell whether it was her curiosity talking or her relief that Mitch was no longer asking her all those questions.
Carol smiled, her eyes softening a little. “I’ll start, then. I’m twenty-eight years old. My family used to live in Shaw—it’s not terribly far from here, though it feels farther. I went to Dunbar for high school, and all through that time I though
t I was perfectly normal. I dated boys and went to dances, wearing dresses much like yours.”
Janet blushed again and smoothed out her itchy petticoat.
“After the war ended, I went to Howard for college,” Carol went on. “That was where I first started to realize how I was. I fell for my roommate sophomore year. Things were very exciting for a few months, but then another girl on our hall told the dean. My roommate and I were both expelled, and I went back to live with my family. Though they didn’t want much to do with me after that.”
Carol told the story with a half smile on her face, as though any pain she might’ve felt was long in the past. Janet wondered how it must feel to go through something so terrible and still come out of it able to smile.
“I still had the friends I’d made at Dunbar, though,” Carol continued. “They didn’t know about me—they’d only heard I’d left Howard and was looking for work. One of our former teachers knew the man who managed the cafeteria at State, and he got me a job. Soon I was making enough money that I could afford to move out of my family’s house and in with roommates. Not the girl I’d been with at Howard—I heard her parents sent her to a hospital somewhere up north—but a group of Dunbar girls. I was nervous, but in the end we got along fine. The girls went out with their fellows, and through my job, I met a few fellows of my own. Fellows like us, that is. They’d go out to parties, and often they’d bring girls along for protection. That’s how Mitch and I met, two years ago now, at one of those parties. We’ve been very fortunate.”
Beside her, Marie made a startled noise. Janet squeezed her hand, but she was stunned, too.
Carol had been made to leave college, and her parents wanted nothing to do with her. It was the worst thing Janet could imagine.
“You’ve been fortunate?” Janet finally asked. “What do you mean?”
“She means we haven’t gotten caught.” Mitch’s firm voice was startling after she’d been quiet for so long. “Not since we’ve been together, that is.”
“Do the neighbors know?” This time, it was Marie who asked.
Mitch shook her head. “We moved in a year ago, and it’s possible some of them suspect, but they’ve never spoken to us about it. We’ve told everyone we’re roommates. Many of the folks up here are still adjusting to having colored folks on the block in the first place. It used to be all white up here, but then the covenants started letting in Jewish folks, and now here we are. Things are changing fast. Do you girls live in Georgetown?”
It had never occurred to Janet that there might be anything shameful about living in Georgetown, but suddenly she didn’t want to answer. She was quite certain no Negroes lived in her neighborhood. Some worked there, like the woman who cleaned the movie theater and the men who sometimes came to install a neighbor’s windows or lay shingles on their roofs, but they always left before the sun set. Everyone who lived there was as white as Janet and Marie.
Janet had never thought about that before.
She stared down at her hands. Marie answered affirmatively for them both.
“Thought so.” Mitch nodded. “As for me, I grew up around here, but I went to New York for college and medical school. Schools around here weren’t about to let a Negro woman become a doctor. Not that it was easy in New York, either, mind.”
Carol chuckled. Janet tried to fathom Mitch’s life, and found she couldn’t.
“My family had just enough money to send me through school,” Mitch explained. “Which was a lucky thing in the Depression. All I wanted in the whole world was to be a doctor, but that meant I had to abide by the rules. I worked and took classes during the day, but my college didn’t allow girls to go out after dark or ride in cars with men, or anything else that might corrupt our virtue. So I spent every night cooped up with my books, learning all I could about biology and chemistry. I never so much as looked at any boy. Of course, now I see why that was.”
Mitch and Carol both laughed. After a moment, Janet and Marie laughed, too.
“It was one of my professors who set me up with a job at a hospital down here.” Mitch smiled. “He was fond of me, and he knew I longed to come back home. It hasn’t been easy, of course—Washington is still the South—but when I was starting to think it wasn’t worth it, that I should go back to New York and try to find work there, well, that’s when I found Carol and my world got flipped upside down.”
Janet’s heart melted. Next to her, Marie let out a contented sound.
Carol reached across the gap between their chairs and took Mitch’s hand. Janet felt Marie squeeze hers at the same time.
“As Carol mentioned, we met at a friend’s party.” Mitch was still smiling. “We’re going over to that same friend’s house tonight, in fact, so we’ll need to get ready soon. Everyone in our circle takes turns hosting, you see.”
“Your circle?” Now that the tension between them had waned, Janet wanted to learn everything she could about Carol and Mitch’s life together.
“Other people like us,” Carol said. Janet must have looked confused, because she added, “Negroes who feel the same way we do. It’s safest to go to each other’s houses rather than trying to go out to the bars.”
“Of course,” Janet said. “At a bar, you might be seen together.”
“Well, yes, and then there’s Jim Crow.” Mitch’s words were clipped but firm. “That’s how it is in this city. I could save your father’s life at my hospital tonight, but that doesn’t mean I’m entitled to sit down beside him for breakfast tomorrow at a Georgetown café.”
Janet nodded, but she cringed, too. How had she never thought about any of this before?
“Now, we need to talk about you.” Mitch swung toward Marie, her lips forming into a tight line.
“Well, we don’t have much of a story,” Marie began. “Janet and I have known each other since we were children, and—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Mitch interrupted. “Of course you don’t have a story yet. You’re children still. All we need to talk about is what you’ll say when the time comes. We invited you here so we could come to an agreement.”
Marie shrunk back. Janet squeezed her hand once more. “What kind of agreement?”
“For if you’re called in.” Carol’s eyes slid over to Marie, too. It was as though Janet had vanished from the room. “It’s always better to go into that room with a plan.”
Marie looked as confused as Janet. “What room?”
“Marie—both you girls, really...” Carol hesitated. “It’s important for you to understand that you need to be much more careful from now on.”
“Careful?” Marie bit her lip. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Mitch cut in, “do you realize that Carol saw you looking at those awful books in the bus station? And if she saw you, anyone could have seen you. When you act so brazen out in public, you might as well send a memo straight to Secretary Dulles himself!”
Janet wanted to ask what Mitch meant about “those awful books,” but Marie spoke first. “You saw us?”
“Of course I did! How did you think I knew to ask you over? It was a great risk to us, bringing you here. Even greater than I knew.” Carol shot a look at Janet. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known your friend’s father worked on the Hill.”
Janet hung her head, but Marie had gone pale.
“Marie.” Carol sighed. “Honey. Haven’t you heard what’s been happening these past few years?”
Marie looked ready to cry. Janet longed to help her somehow.
“Of course it would be bad if we were caught,” she said, trying to keep Marie from having to speak while she was so upset. “Our parents would be terribly angry, and—”
“Your parents would be the least of your problems.” Mitch sighed. “Your friend works at the Department of State, Janet, just like mine. Have you even thought about what that means? Does the nam
e Joseph McCarthy ring a bell?”
Janet’s jaw dropped. Had they somehow walked into an ambush? “We aren’t Communists!”
“Of course you aren’t.” Mitch met Janet’s eyes. “But Congress isn’t only after Communists.”
“Queers are just as bad.” Carol’s eyes were steely. “Maybe worse.”
The word queers made Janet flinch. “We aren’t—we don’t—”
Mitch began to soften. “Carol. Look at them. They’re so young.”
“That’s no excuse. It’s been in the papers. You need to read up on your own people, girls.”
“They’re barely out of high school. How many papers did you read in high school?”
“Times were different then.” Carol lifted her chin. Janet tightened her hold on Marie’s hand, remembering the column about Senator Hunt’s son. “Well, you should know it’s been going on for years. We thought it might stop when they censured McCarthy, but if anything it’s gotten worse. They’re out to prove they’re serious about this business. They have their lists, and the lists are always growing. If the administration gets the slightest whiff that someone working at the department might be a homosexual, or even might know a homosexual, they bring them in for questioning, and from the stories I’ve heard our interrogators could give the Germans a run for their money. Before they bring you in, they’ll talk to everyone you’ve ever met, every school you’ve ever gone to, every place you’ve ever worked. They ask them if anyone ever thought you might be just a little odd. They ask if you ever wore pants, or cut your hair short, or if you ever had a girlfriend who seemed a bit too close. If anyone says yes, if anyone even says maybe, that’s the end of it for you.”
Janet shrank back. She liked to wear pants. She cut her hair as short as her mother allowed. And as for having a close girlfriend...
“But—why?” Janet regretted the question as soon as she’d asked it. Mitch and Carol looked at her as if she were an ignorant child.
“Homosexuals are security risks,” Mitch said patiently. “They think we’re all Communists—or if we aren’t yet, the Communists will find us and blackmail us into becoming one of them.”