by S. Walden
“Well, you better catch him on a day he ain’t jacked up,” Johnny D said.
“Yeah,” Anton replied, thinking.
He pulled a two liter of soda from the refrigerator and said goodbye to his friends. Emma waved goodbye as they made their way to the counter to pay—Anton chatting with the owner for a few minutes—and then out the door for home. They walked hand in hand at a slow pace though Anton was anxious to get back to the house. The smell that permeated the small grocery store reminded him of his intense hunger. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into his mama’s fried chicken. He thought that Emma would never taste such good food. Suddenly all thoughts of Nate vanished.
“Why couldn’t I have a hat like the ones those ladies wore?” Emma asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Anton looked at her patiently. “Emma, lemme explain somethin’ to you about hats. There hats for white people and hats for black people. And they don’t look the same. Now I can’t explain to you how to tell ‘em apart. But you just know when you look at ‘em which ones belong on a white woman’s head and which ones belong on a black woman’s head. And all those hats you saw today belong on a black woman’s head. So no, you can’t have one. You’d look ridiculous.”
Emma had no response. In fact, she remained quiet until they got to his apartment door.
“How do you know so much about hats?” she asked as they made their way into his house.
“I just do,” he replied, but she was not listening.
CHAPTER 20
SUNDAY, MAY 9
She was instantly transported somewhere else. She did not know the place. She had never before been there. It was a place with the most delectable smells, so tempting that they made her stomach grumble and ache the moment she walked over the threshold of the front door. She saw the food laid out on the table. There was the fried chicken that Anton had assaulted earlier, a large casserole dish of homemade macaroni and cheese, a bowl of fried somethings she could not identify, another bowl of leafy greens she was sure she had never tasted, and corn bread. She couldn’t believe her instant starvation and was longing to sit down and pile her plate.
“Okay you two,” Ms. Robinson said. “Come eat.” She was glistening with sweat, and for good reason Emma thought. She had created a feast in thirty minutes!
Anton held out the chair for Emma, and she thanked him as she sat down. Ms. Robinson smiled at her son’s manners. She asked him to say grace when they were all seated with glasses of iced tea and soda. Emma chose the iced tea. She remembered its delicious sweetness from awhile back.
After Anton said the blessing, he addressed Emma: “Okay, so what on this table have you never tasted?”
Emma looked around. “Well, what’s that?” she asked pointing to the bowl with the leafy greens.
“Those are collard greens,” Ms. Robinson replied. “You never had collard greens, honey?”
Emma shook her head.
“I know right?” Anton said. “Shouldn’t that be child neglect or somethin’?”
Ms. Robinson ignored him as she scooped a small portion onto Emma’s plate.
“Well go on and try it,” Anton said.
“Anton, where’s yo’ manners? You ain’t gonna sit here and watch her eat. Lord child, you are so rude sometimes,” Ms. Robinson said.
“I just wanna see how she react,” Anton said. “‘Cause it so good.”
“Emma, would you like some fried okra?” Ms. Robinson said ignoring her son.
“Sure. I’ve never had that either,” Emma replied.
“Now that might be considered child neglect,” Ms. Robinson said winking at Emma, and she laughed.
When their plates were filled, Emma dug in. She tasted the collard greens first and decided that there was no better side dish in the world. She wished Ms. Robinson had given her more. The fried chicken was so tender and juicy she wished she could have several pieces though the one on her plate was enormous. But when she moved on to the fried okra, her love affair with Ms. Robinson’s food really began. She could not describe it. She felt like she could eat an entire tub of it, like popcorn. When she finished the first helping, she asked for a second. And even though she knew it would be unmannerly to ask for a third, she did anyway. She couldn’t help it. The switch in her brain that signaled she was full had malfunctioned. She was certain she could sit at the table all day and eat. And eat.
It was not just the taste of the food. There was something in it that she couldn’t get enough of. She thought it had something to do with Ms. Robinson. She tried hard to understand it. It was as if all of the food was laced with love, hard work, and sacrifice. And she could taste each thing specifically. She had never tasted love in food before. Not her mother’s food. Not the food she prepared for herself. And she wondered how to put it in. What was Ms. Robinson’s secret? Was it the way her hands moved as she prepared the dishes? Did she speak it into the food and that’s why she asked them to go to the store? To give her privacy, so that she could work her magic? How did she do it, making Emma feel she could eat forever and never be satisfied?
They chatted pleasantly as Emma ate. She enjoyed listening to the banter between Anton and his mother. It was so easy and natural, and she wished she could talk to her mother like that. Theirs was a special kind of relationship, she thought, one that develops into intense loyalty and absolute love in spite of an absent father. Emma realized she never asked Anton about his father, and he never offered her any information about him. Perhaps he knew nothing about his father, and that made her sad.
“Girl, you done ate yo’ weight in fried okra,” Anton said, yanking her out of her contemplation.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said quietly. And then turning to Ms. Robinson she added, “I have manners. I really do. I cannot believe I just ate like that.”
Ms. Robinson laughed. “Emma, you so thin you can eat as much of this food as you want. How ‘bout I send you home with the rest of this fried okra?”
“Now hold up a minute,” Anton said.
“Oh hush, Anton,” Ms. Robinson said.
Emma felt selfish. She nodded watching Anton scowl at her playfully.
“Okay then. Now we gonna clean all this up and then I got to get myself ready for work,” Ms. Robinson said.
Emma was glad she was expected to help clear the table and wash the dishes. It made her feel like she was part of their family and not just a Sunday guest. She enjoyed their company and liked watching the way Anton teased his mother and how she playfully swatted him on the back of his head. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw him pull his mother close and kiss the top of her head. So much love, she thought, and she wanted to stay at their tiny apartment in a rough neighborhood forever.
Anton kissed her cheek unexpectedly, and she jumped.
“Anton,” she chastised quietly, feeling embarrassed.
“What? My mama know we’re datin’,” he said and leaned down to kiss her again.
She drew back.
“Anton, stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable. You doin’ it on purpose,” his mother scolded. She had just finished wiping down the kitchen table.
“I ain’t tryin’ to make her feel uncomfortable,” Anton said grinning.
Ms. Robinson looked like she wanted to say something, like it had been on the tip of her tongue the entire time they cleaned the dishes. She had just scolded Anton for making Emma feel uncomfortable, and now she realized she had to do the same.
“Come on over here to the living room, you two,” she said finally. Her heartbeat quickened, but she was his mother, she decided. It had to be discussed.
Anton and Emma sat together on the couch, and Ms. Robinson took a seat opposite them. Emma thought how not so very long ago it was Anton who sat across from her. Then she had barely known him, and she remembered that she looked him over that day deciding if he was as cute as he thought. She smiled to herself remembering that time, when love had not yet been spoken but was hovering above them, ready to descend when t
hey were finished playing their game of flirtation.
Ms. Robinson cleared her throat. “You know I gotta go to work,” she began.
“Mama, you ain’t gonna make me do a bunch of chores for you today, are you? I had plans with Emma,” Anton whined.
“We have plans?” Emma asked suddenly.
“Girl, be quiet,” Anton replied.
“I’m not gonna make you do chores. Just hush and listen, okay?” his mother said.
Anton looked relieved, but Emma started feeling mildly uneasy.
“I don’t even know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it,” Ms. Robinson said.
“Mama, what is it?” Anton asked impatiently.
Now Emma wanted to tell him to be quiet. She knew, and she didn’t want to hear it out loud.
“It’s my business and it’s not my business,” Ms. Robinson said. She paused for a brief moment. “I need to know if you’re having sex and if you’re bein’ safe.”
“Oh my God, Mama!” Anton yelled, covering his face with his large hands.
“I know it’s embarrassing to talk about, but we have to,” she replied.
“No we don’t! No we don’t!” Anton said.
“Yes we do,” Ms. Robinson insisted. “I’m gone a lot workin’ and doin’ school things. And it bothers me I’m gone so much. It’s always bothered me. But now that you two are together, I gotta whole other set of things to be worried about.”
Emma wanted to crawl under the couch and die.
“Mama, everything fine. You don’t gotta be worried about a thing, okay?” Anton said hurriedly. “You can go on now to work.”
“Anton, stop,” his mother said. “And be serious.”
“Yes, we’re having sex.” It was Emma who spoke up. She was mortified, but she wanted to get it over with.
Ms. Robinson looked at her and then Anton. Her face fell a little, and she was visibly worried.
“And we’re being very safe,” Emma continued noting Ms. Robinson’s unease. “We’re using protection. I’m on birth control.”
Ms. Robinson nodded. She looked slightly more relieved.
“Can I go die now?” Anton asked.
Ms. Robinson ignored him. “Emma, baby, how old are you?”
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in July.”
Ms. Robinson sat silent for a moment. Anton shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I just really need you two to be safe. Anton here is legally an adult, and you’re not,” she said.
Emma had never thought about it. She had been treated like an adult all her life. She was the more mature one out of the two of them. But facts were facts. She was still considered a child in the eyes of the law. He was not.
“Emma? Do your parents know you datin’ my son?” Ms. Robinson said.
“Yes,” Emma replied, and Anton looked at her. This was news to him.
“And they’re okay with it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Emma confessed.
“What’d you mean?” Anton asked.
Emma bit her lip. “Well, I kind of told them as I was leaving this morning.”
“What?! You dropped the bomb on them then went runnin’ out yo’ house?” Anton asked nonplussed.
“Sort of,” Emma replied. Her face felt hot with shame.
“Dear Lord,” Ms. Robinson said softly.
“I’m going to sit down and talk to them tonight,” Emma said.
“‘Course you are. You don’t gotta choice. You gotta go home,” Anton said, and then he looked at his mother. “Unless she can stay here tonight.”
Ms. Robinson drew in a deep breath. “Do you wanna get beaten? ‘Cause you this close,” she said holding up her thumb and forefinger slightly apart.
“It’ll be fine. My parents will be fine,” Emma said, though she did not believe it.
Ms. Robinson looked at the clock hanging above them.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “And I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave you two here alone. I’m still havin’ a hard time wrappin’ my head around this.” She rubbed her forehead and sighed deeply.
“Mama, I’m eighteen,” Anton said softly.
“I know, baby,” she replied.
“You know I love this girl, Mama,” Anton continued. “I ain’t messin’ around. You know I’m serious.”
Ms. Robinson smiled wearily remembering when she was eighteen and the certainty of her convictions could not be shaken. She remembered when she turned twenty and those convictions foundered, vanishing along with the man who vowed to love her for a lifetime. He left her alone holding a tiny baby in her arms.
She stood up suddenly and addressed the humiliated couple on the couch. “Go do something today. Go see a movie or something. I don’t want you hanging around in this house. You understand?”
“Okay Mama. We’ll go somewhere,” Anton said.
He watched his mother walk reluctantly to her room to change into her scrubs. He and Emma sat in silence until she returned reminding them to “go do something” before leaving.
When his mother had closed the front door behind her, Anton spoke.
“I can’t even believe she just did that. I am so embarrassed. I cannot believe my mama just sat there and axed if we was havin’ sex. Can you believe that?” he asked, turning to Emma.
She was bent over holding her stomach.
“I don’t feel so good,” she said.
“I know, right? My mama thinkin’ she can just ax us about our personal business.”
“No, I really don’t feel good,” Emma said, and jumped up from the couch.
She ran to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, and bent over the toilet. She vomited violently, her body shaking and the tears pouring involuntarily. It kept coming, and she had to kneel down for the weakness she felt in her knees. She thought regrettably that she was vomiting all of the love she had just eaten, as though her body were rejecting his mother, his home and family.
There was a break in her sickness, and she wiped at her mouth with some toilet paper. She heard Anton knocking on the door and forbade him to enter. She felt a fresh wave coming, and no sooner had she gotten the words out to him then her head was back in the toilet, her stomach contracting and ridding itself of everything she had put into it. All of the love, she thought. All of the warmth of family.
She wiped at her mouth again, flushed the toilet, and sat back against the wall. She took deep ragged breaths and let the tears slide down her cheeks. She never understood why vomiting induced tears. She heard a tentative knock once more, and reluctantly invited him in.
Anton entered the bathroom and left the door open. He didn’t mention the smell, but she knew he was thinking it. And she wanted to be embarrassed, but she was too weak to care.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“I threw up,” she said.
Anton tried not to laugh. “I know you threw up, baby.”
“I threw up my entire lunch,” she said, the tears still spilling over.
Anton went over to her and sat down beside her. He wiped at her tears.
“Baby, that’s gonna happen when you eat fifty pounds of food,” he said tenderly.
She laughed softly, tasting the vomit in her mouth.
“You didn’t throw up,” she pointed out. “You ate as much as me.”
Anton couldn’t help but laugh. “Girl, do we look like we anywhere near the same size? Plus, I’m a black man. I’m used to eatin’ that food. You prolly never had so much fried food in yo’ life.”
Emma nodded. “It was so good.”
“I know,” he said, pulling her close to him. She resisted.
“My breath is disgusting,” she said.
“Well, go brush yo’ teeth,” Anton suggested.
“How? I don’t have a toothbrush here.”
“Use mine,” he offered.
“Hmm, I don’t know. That sounds pretty gross,” she said.
“It is. But what else we gonna do? Ha
ve you walkin’ around all day with dragon breath? I can get another toothbrush,” he said.
“No, I meant gross for me.”
Anton burst out laughing. “Girl, you kiss me all the time. You put yo’ tongue down my throat, and you gonna be grossed out by my toothbrush? Baby, you crazy,” he said hugging her close.
She let him hold her feeling the love seep back into her. Her heart felt better and the panic subsided. It was there—the love. It was there in many different forms. So maybe she couldn’t eat so much of it. But she could let him hold her, let it flow into her from his strong dark arms.
He helped her up and handed her his toothbrush and toothpaste. She brushed her teeth while he sat on the toilet and watched. He gave her a paper cup filled with mouth rinse, and she was tempted to swallow it. He laughed listening to her gargle. She thought she should be embarrassed doing that in front of him, but she was too busy relishing the feel of a clean mouth.
“I feel like a new woman,” she said after spitting into the sink and rinsing it out.
She looked at Anton who appeared to be thinking about something.
“What?” she asked nervously. “You didn’t have to watch me do that. I know it’s not attractive, brushing your teeth in front of someone.”
“No, I ain’t thinkin’ about that,” he said. “I’m thinkin’ that this is the only time I haven’t felt like havin’ sex with you.”
Emma felt slightly irritated.
“Look, I know I threw up and you had to smell it when you walked in here and then you sat there watching me brush my teeth and—”
“Girl, no. It ain’t about all that. It’s my mama. She just made me feel all weird about it,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” Emma said with a sigh. “I know.”
She stood in front of him waiting for the invitation. He moved his arms to let her sit on his lap. She settled in and felt his arms go around her waist.
“It’s because I’m seventeen,” she said.
Anton sighed. “You more mature than I am,” he said frustrated.
“I know.”
He made a face at her, and she giggled.
“It’s also because she’s your mother,” Emma pointed out.