“I got caught up doing my stupid chores. I forgot about calling you,” Joyce replied.
“That’s it. You don’t have anything else to say?”
Joyce scanned the students on the school bus to see if anyone was listening to our conversation. Leaning over, she whispered in my ear, “I’ll tell you more when we get to school.”
We shared the remainder of the ride to school in silence. Joyce spent most of the trip staring out the window. I couldn’t tell if she was crying or counting the trees we passed along the route. Pulling out a hardback book, I decided to read until we arrived at school to take my mind off of Joyce’s problems.
Chapter Three
“Why in the world are you reading Gather Together in My Name? It’s not one of our reading assignments, is it?” Joyce asked, panicking as we exited the bus.
“No, it’s not a reading assignment. It’s just something I picked up at the library. You know how much I enjoy reading.”
“Yeah, but what’s that book about?”
“It’s the second book in a series written by Maya Angelou.”
“Maya who?” Joyce asked, wrinkling her forehead. She struggled to keep up with my fast pace.
“Maya Angelou, you know, the lady from Stamps who wrote the book titled, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. It was the first autobiography in this series I read last year. Remember, I told you all about it.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember. She was nominated for some kind of prize. Wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for poetry. And that’s the highest national honor you can receive for literary achievements. Anyway, I heard her first book might be made into a movie someday. So, I want to read all her books before the movie comes out.”
“Whatever. You can tell me about them all when you’re done, and then I’ll wait for the movie,” Joyce said, grinning at me. She definitely wasn’t a reader. “I’ll never understand why anybody likes to read as much as you.”
“Oh, hush, and come on. Let’s go to the cafeteria and get some breakfast. I’m hungry,” I replied, leading the way.
We gobbled down our cold cereal breakfast and rushed to the girls’ bathroom. I checked to make sure we were alone. Then, I turned around and fired several questions at Joyce. “All right, now. I want all the details. What did the doctor say? Do you really have chlamydia? Why didn’t you call me last night?”
Joyce placed her books on the sink. Staring at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath, and replied, “Yes, my mom took me to see Dr. Mills yesterday morning. He confirmed that I have chlamydia and gave me some antibiotics that look like big ole horse pills,” she began, squinting up her face. “I have to take them for ten days straight. Anyway, Mama didn’t speak to me all day after we left the doctor’s office. Then, right after we finished dinner, she made me wash the dishes. And when I finished with that, she told me to go to my room and get ready for bed. I had turned out my light and was lying in bed trying to go to sleep. Then, the next thing I know, my daddy was busting through the door cursing and yelling like a mad man carrying a leather belt in one hand.”
Leaning against the wall, I held on to every word coming out of Joyce’s mouth.
“He said the most horrible things to me. He said I had disgraced the family name, and he’d rather see me dead than carrying a bastard child. He asked me who the boy was, and when I flat out refused to tell him, he got really angry,” she explained, turning her face away from the mirror.
I gasped for breath at the change of tone in Joyce’s voice, covering my mouth with both hands. I was beginning to visualize the horrific scene that had occurred at Joyce’s house. “What happened then?” I whispered, almost too afraid to ask. I was determined to find out what my friend had endured. Sure, I’d heard stories about Joyce’s father being a heavy gambler and drinker, but I had never known of him being a violent man. At least, Joyce had never complained about having that family problem.
Joyce’s head dropped, and so did the crocodile tears. “He beat me all over my body. I tried to get away, but it didn’t do any good,” Joyce said, wiping away her tears. She rolled up one sleeve on her purple blouse, showing me the welt marks on her arm. “And my legs are even worse. That’s why I can barely walk this morning.”
“Oh, my God,” I cried. “What did your mom do? Didn’t she try to stop him?”
“Well, eventually she did. But by the time she came in, I was almost unconscious. I barely heard her begging and pleading with him to stop. She kept saying, that’s enough, that’s enough. Don’t kill the child.”
“I thought your mom had promised not to tell your father.”
“She did. That’s what sucks so about it. She’d promised not to say anything to him. And then, when I asked her about it after the beating, Mama said she couldn’t keep something like that from Daddy any longer. She said that if he ever found out what she’d done, he’d beat her even worse. And she’s right. He’s beat her plenty times before. But it’s a good thing he hadn’t been drinking, though, because she wouldn’t have been able to get him off of me. He woulda beat me to death for real. And turned around and did the same to her.”
“I’m sorry, Joyce, you’ve never told me that your father was a violent man. I had no idea he was like that.”
“It’s not the sort of thing I like to talk about even with my best friend. He’s never beaten me before, so there was nothing to tell. You know, I’ve always been his sweet little baby girl,” Joyce said, forcing a smile. “Anyway, he normally takes his anger out on my brother and leaves me alone. But since Alfred’s been gone, Daddy’s been meaner to Mama and slapping her around when he comes home drunk and mad about losing money from gambling.”
I was about to respond when a young chick burst into the bathroom and ran into a back stall. Joyce and I stared at one another. Neither one of us uttered another word as we walked out together.
*
We made it through the remainder of the school week without anymore major drama. I prayed nightly for my friend, though, and offered her as much support as a teenager could. Still, Joyce was beginning to withdraw more and more with each passing day. I racked my brains for ways to cheer up my best friend by cracking jokes every chance I got. I learned about twenty-five “knock-knock” jokes, and tried them all out on Joyce. She would laugh for a second, then catch herself and stop like she wasn’t supposed to enjoy life ever again. Some of the spirit and self-esteem she’d once had was long gone. It was my challenge, as a best friend, to help put the sparkle back into Joyce’s smile. Only I hadn’t come up with a way to do that so far.
Tyrone was scheduled to come home over the Christmas break to say good-bye to the family so he could ship out at the beginning of the year. I was just overjoyed that my mom had stopped crying every day at the thought of her son going to the Vietnam War. My mom had reached out to Joyce’s mom during those troubled times, and Mrs. Deloris Campbell was happy to share with her. Joyce had even shared with me how much she missed having her brother around, because he’d been their savior many times when her father would come home in one of his drunken rages. “If it hadn’t been for Alfred, my mother and I would have gotten beaten all the time,” Joyce confessed on one of her frequent visits to my house. “That’s why I never liked for you to spend the night at my house on the weekend. I never knew when my daddy was going to come in drunk and cut the fool on us. I know you’ve heard about how he is.” Joyce blinked her eyes several times and avoided my gaze.
“Well, I have to admit. I’ve heard my parents and some of the kids at school talking about your daddy. But, you know, I don’t pay attention to that kind of talk. Girl, you are my bestie no matter what,” I replied, reaching out to hug Joyce.
*
Late Saturday morning, I woke up to a bright sunny fall day. I looked out my bedroom window and saw brown, orange, and yellow leaves covering the backyard. The weather was cool enough for a jacket, so I dressed in a blue wind suit and tennis shoes. I sprayed
the scalp between my cornrows with some Afro Sheen and rubbed it in good. That was the best thing in the world for a dry scalp like mine.
After eating some Raisin Bran cereal with milk and a spoonful of sugar, I called Lena Turnipseed and then called Joyce. I said, “I’m going out to visit Lena Turnipseed and her baby today. Remember, we promised her that we’d come visit them sometime. Well, the girl is about six months old, and we haven’t even seen her yet.”
“I know, Ree. Did you talk with her today?”
“Yes, I did. She’s very excited about having company. A lot of her old friends from our school don’t even try to socialize with her anymore. And I think it’s a shame she has to stay at the alternative school even though she’s had the baby.”
“Me, too, I don’t know what they’re so afraid of. It’s not like she’s going to contaminate anybody. All she did was have a baby for goodness’ sakes.”
“That’s right, but it’s okay for that no-good Rodney Payne to come to school every day and hit on everything wearing a skirt. They could have made him go to an alternative school, too. At least he’s not the big man captain of the basketball team anymore. You know, he gets on my last nerve,” I stated. Then, I paused, waiting for Joyce to chime in.
Joyce remained silent.
“Joyce, are you still there?” I asked, knowing she didn’t care for the likes of Rodney, either.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m here. I was just thinking about something. What time are you going to visit Lena today?”
“She said any time would be good since she’s home all the time on the weekend. I was thinking about asking my mom to drop me off over there around three o’clock. We can pick you up, if you’d like to ride with us.”
“Ah, let me talk to my mom and see if it’s okay. I’ll call you back later,” Joyce said, before closing out our conversation.
Lena met us at the door of her spacious brick home wearing bell bottom jeans with a printed knit top. Her hair had grown out a lot. Lena had tiny plaits all over her head hanging down to her shoulders. Greeting us with a huge smile, Lena’s body towered over both of us as she ushered us into the nicely-decorated living room. Black and white photographs of famous black American educators donned the entryway. There were pictures of Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Dubois, and Mary McLeod Bethune just to name a few.
Both of Lena parents were teachers, and they lived on the side of town where few blacks could afford to live in the early seventies. That’s why Lena was reluctant to tell them she was pregnant last year. She didn’t want to embarrass her family knowing that they were definite role models in the community. However, they were so happy when she returned home after running away to Shreveport, they accepted her with open arms.
“Hey, girl,” Lena gushed, embracing each of us. “I’m so glad you two finally made it out here to see us.”
“Is that the baby?” I asked, pointing to a white bassinet in the corner of the room.
“Yeah, that’s my little girl. She’s sleeping right now, but you can take a peek at her,” Lena replied, crossing the room. Joyce and I followed closely behind. We stared down at the small bundle underneath the pink blanket, smiled to ourselves, and took a seat on the oversized sofa.
“What’s it really like being a mother?” Joyce asked, folding her hands across her lap. I crossed my legs and looked over at Lena, too. That question was also on my mind. I’d sat up many nights wondering about Lena and how she was coping with her new life. It can’t be easy.
“Well, you know, it’s different,” Lena replied, leaning back on the love seat. “I never thought I’d be able to be a good mother at such a young age, but it really seems natural. I thought I’d be afraid to hold the baby and to feed her and change her. Now, it just seems like second nature to me. My mother has been a big help, though, as far as giving me advice.”
“Oh, yeah, how are your parents dealing with all this?” I asked, leaning forward. That was the million-dollar question. Open arms didn’t always mean friendly arms.
“They’re pretty cool now. At first, they were really upset with me about how everything went down. We talked about it a whole lot. And now that the baby is here, they seem to be okay with it all. But, girl, my mama made it clear that taking care of the baby is my responsibility. She don’t get up with her during the night, she don’t feed her, and she don’t change no diapers. She just stands back and tells me whatever needs to be done for the baby and when to do it.” Lena shifted her eyes back and forth between Joyce and myself.
“And where is Rodney Payne in all of this?” I asked. “Has he even seen the baby?”
“Nope, he hasn’t been out here once. His parents came out here when I first came home with the baby, but they haven’t been back since. They send my parents a check every month to help with the baby, but that’s about it. Anyway, I try not to think about Rodney. I just hope that no one else at that school makes the same mistake I’ve made.”
“I’ve always known Rodney was bad news. I’ve never like him. He used to stop by my house sometimes to see Joshua, and I’d make him wait on the front porch while I went to get my brother. He’s just a no-good snake in the grass,” I said. From the corner of my eye, I saw Joyce squirming in her seat. She must have been itching or something.
“Did having a baby hurt?” Joyce asked.
“Goodness, yes! It hurt so badly,” Lena replied, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “Why, what are you two thinking? Please tell me that neither one of you are thinking about having a baby.”
“Oh, no,” I declared, throwing up both my hands and shaking my head hard enough for it to fall off.
“Me, neither, a baby is the last thing I need in my life right now. I really hope I’m not pregnant.” Joyce reached up and quickly covered her mouth with one hand.
“What did you just say, Joyce?” Lena asked, stretching her eyes.
“I mean—I mean…”
“Hold on a minute,” Lena interjected, raising an index finger. “I need to answer the telephone, because I’m the only one home.” She hurried to the hallway and picked up the ringing telephone receiver.
When Lena returned a few minutes later, she apologized for the interruption. She was ready to resume our topic of conversation, but Joyce changed the subject to hair. “I like your hair, girl. Who did those plaits for you?”
“Oh, I did this. It took me forever to complete, so it’s going to be like this for a while.” Lena reached up, touching a few of the long plaits.
We continued talking about hair and school for almost an hour until someone else entered the room. “Hello,” the young man said. He waved over at Joyce and me, and then turned towards Lena. “I see we have company.”
“Hi, Henry,” Joyce and I replied, waving back at the tall, thin boy wearing thick, Coke-bottle glasses trimmed in gold. “We just stopped by to say hello to Lena and meet your new niece,” Joyce announced.
“Hey, thanks for stopping by,” Henry said, walking towards us. He stopped at the bassinet and looked down on the sleeping baby. Then, Henry raised his head and asked me, “Where have you been hiding, stranger?”
“Ah, I’ve been around,” I replied, returning his smile. Uncrossing my legs, I sat up straight on the sofa. I thought he was kinda cute, especially when he wasn’t wearing those glasses.
Henry’s eyes remained on me as he said, “It’s good to see you again. I haven’t seen you at school lately.” He stepped over to my side of the sofa and sat down beside me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Henry, but I didn’t really want him sitting that close to me. Boys were supposed to be the furthest things from my mind right then.
That’s when I heard my mother outside blowing for us. I stood up faster than a ball being shot out of a cannon. “Well, that’s our ride. We have to get going. Bye, Lena. Bye, Henry.”
“Wow, I’m sorry we don’t have more time to talk,” Henry stated, standing up beside me. “Tell Joshua I said hello.”
“All right,” I said, heading towards the d
oor.
“Thank you both for coming out to see me. You know, I don’t get much company since I’ve had the baby. I can’t go back to the regular high school, and they haven’t let me back into my church yet, either. I have to spend the whole weekend cooped up in the house with the baby,” Lena said, walking with us to the front door. The enthusiasm she’d shown when we first arrived was beginning to fade.
“I’m sorry about that. We’ll try to come back to see you more often,” I said, eyeing Joyce.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Joyce offered. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back.”
On the way to the car, Joyce asked, “Ree, can I go home with you for a little while. I’m ready for you to braid my hair.”
“Great, there’s nothing I’d rather do this afternoon.”
Chapter Four
By six o’clock, we were back at my crib. I was sitting on the side of the bed in my room, and Joyce was on the floor ready to get her freshly-washed hair braided. “I have the perfect style picked out for you,” I said, smiling. “It’s called the around the world.”
“What on earth is that, Ree? I’ve never heard of that.”
“I’m going to start at the back of your head and braid one cornrow in a circle all the way around your head. You’ll like it. You’ll see.”
“I better like it, or you’re in big trouble, missy,” Joyce joked, leaning her back against the bed between my legs. Bending her head down, she waited for me to make the first part in her hair. Joyce scanned the pages of the latest issue of Right On magazine while I worked my magic using the Blue Magic hair pomade. She wasn’t much of a reader, but Joyce enjoyed looking at pictures of the latest stars like Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five, the Silvers, the Supremes, Betty Wright, and James Brown.
I had loaded a stack of forty-five rpm records on the portable record player. We both sang along with the tunes as each record dropped and the needle landed on the black vinyl. With the volume low, we could still hear each other singing and talking over the R&B music.
Bell Bottom High: Book 2: Sophomore Sorrows Page 3