The Secrets of Silk

by Allison Hobbs

  “What about the doctor who’s waiting for you back home?”

  “I sent him a telegram today and broke it off with him. And I sent my mama a telegram, telling her to ship my bridal chest to Chester.”

  “Are you and Buddy planning a big wedding?”

  “No. We’ll have a small affair at the justice of the peace.”

  “What about teaching? Are you gonna give it up?”

  Silk nodded. “I love Buddy so much, I’m gonna devote myself to being a good wife and good mama to his kids.”

  Surprisingly, Clara threw her arms around Silk’s neck. “Welcome to the family. This is wonderful news. I’m gonna miss your company on the long bus ride home, but I’ll have peace of mind knowing that my brother and his children are being loved and cared for.”

  Silk hugged Clara back. “Fate brought us together on the bus, and we’re sisters, now.”

  “Those church folks are gossiping about you and Buddy something terrible, they said he bought you a diamond ring, today. Can I see it?”

  “The one we picked out is too large, and the jeweler is fixing it to fit my skinny, little finger. It won’t be ready until Wednesday, and unfortunately, you’ll already be gone.”

  “Well, make sure you send me a picture of you and Buddy’s wedding day.”

  “I will.” Silk opened one of her bags. “Your sweet brother is so kindhearted. He felt bad that I had to borrow clothes from you and from his deceased wife’s closet, and so he bought me some fancy, new getups.” Silk began pulling one item after another out of the bags, and Clara seemed genuinely delighted that Buddy had splurged on his bride-to-be.

  When Clara and Silk returned downstairs, Silk had changed into one of her new outfits, a pair of Bermuda shorts and a shell top with fancy beading around the neckline. Silk was a knockout whether she was dressed casually or decked out in heels and a tight-fitting dress. It was a known fact that Silk had arrived at Buddy’s house with only the clothes on her back, and after taking note of her new clothes, curious eyes drifted to her left hand.

  Sister Beverly, who was fussing over Buddy and the children, preparing their plates with generous portions of barbeque spareribs, fried cabbage, and biscuits, looked visibly relieved that Silk’s ring finger was bare.

  “I want you to meet my niece, but she couldn’t make it today because she had to work. She’s a fine, upstanding young woman, and she’s willing to help you out with the children. I’ll be sure to introduce you two after the burial tomorrow,” Sister Beverly said to Buddy.

  “I won’t be needing a sitter, after all,” Buddy said as he chowed down on the ribs.

  “Who’s going to help you to tend to the children? They’re too young to look after themselves.” Sister Beverly gazed around the dining room at her fellow church members for support.

  “They sure can’t,” Sister Yvonne agreed, cutting a disapproving eye at Buddy for even suggesting such a thing.

  “I didn’t want to share my good news until after the funeral, but I’m bursting with happiness. The Lord blessed me with Ernestine’s love and now he has blessed me with the love of another good woman.” He beckoned Silk. She crossed the room and stood next to Buddy’s chair.

  “What are you saying, Buddy? Don’t tell me that terrible rumor is true?” Sister Beverly said, looking aghast.

  “It’s not a rumor. I asked Silk to marry me, and she said, yes.” He gazed at Silk and smiled.

  Stunned silent, Sister Beverly went limp and eased into an empty chair. It took a few moments for her to find her voice. “But…she’s not a suitable wife,” Sister Beverly blurted. “I heard she was in the Melody Lounge bar the other night, shaking her rear-end and drinking liquor.”

  “That was a one-time thing. Silk plans to join the church, get saved, and put any type of fast-living behind her. She’s gonna make a good mother for my children.”

  Displeased with his father’s announcement, Myron mumbled under his breath, “She’s not my mother.”

  Bruce blinked rapidly as he took in the shocking news. “I don’t like her. I want my real mother to come back.”

  “Watch your mouth, boy,” Buddy chastised his son. “You’re getting too big for your britches anytime you think you can sit at my table and complain about grown folk decisions. We’re going to miss your mother terribly; she’ll always be in our hearts. But we have to move forward as a strong Christian family, and now that Miss Silk will be helping me raise you children, I expect all of you to give her respect. Do you hear me, Bruce?”

  “Yes,” the boy said grudgingly.

  “What about you, Myron?”

  Myron poked out his lips resentfully. “Yes, Daddy,” he mumbled.

  “Dallas?”

  “I love Miss Silk, Daddy.”

  Dallas’ brothers grumbled and rolled their eyes at their sister. Silk smiled at Dallas and the shy little girl lowered her eyes and blushed.

  “Well, I suppose I should be getting over to the church to make sure everything is in order for the funeral tomorrow,” Sister Beverly announced, gazing around the dining room and giving the other church members significant looks. Taking a cue from Sister Beverly, Deacon Whiteside cleared his throat and muttered that he needed to head on over to the church, also.

  One by one, the church members filed out of Buddy’s home to meet up at the church where they could openly discuss the scandalous upcoming wedding of Buddy and the woman he barely knew.

  CHAPTER 18

  Clara escorted the children up to the casket where their mother lay, dressed in blue and appeared to be merely sleeping. She lifted Dallas in her arms and held the child hovering in the air above her mother’s body.

  “Wake up, Mommy. Please wake up,” Dallas pleaded.

  “She’s gone, Dallas. Kiss your mother goodbye,” Clara said.

  “No!” Dallas screamed. “She needs a doctor to make her better.”

  Clutching each other, the boys crept up to the casket and both said, “Bye, Mommy,” and then collapsed into tears. There wasn’t a dry eye in the church after Dallas’ sorrowful outburst and the boys’ woeful farewell.

  Quietly weeping, Buddy was being comforted by Silk. After the children were back in their seats, Buddy and Silk approached the coffin together. A hush came over the room. Spectators sat on the edges of their seats, capturing every detail of the scandalous couple’s behavior.

  One look at his wife and Buddy had an unexpected outburst. “Not my wife! Not my wife! Ernestine, you were too young to die!” His knees buckled and a horde of pallbearers and deaconesses rushed to his aid, holding him up and fanning his face. Escorted back to his seat, Buddy was comforted by a host of attendants.

  Silk remained standing at the coffin, whispering something inaudible as she stood over the body of her predecessor.

  Gossipers would put their own imaginative spin on Silk’s final words to the woman she had replaced, but what Silk actually said was:

  I always wanted to live up North in a home of my own, and although the one you left me is rather nice, it’s kind of small and not exactly what I had in mind. Maybe we’ll add some more rooms with that insurance check we collected from your accident. Don’t worry about your kids; I’m gonna try to do right by them. Dallas is sweet, but those boys of yours pluck my nerves. If they can abide by my rules, we’ll get along fine and dandy. As you can see, Buddy is feeling a little emotional, but don’t worry about him. He’ll be all right after we get hitched. Once I officially move into your former bedroom, Buddy’s gonna keep a smile on his face. Well, that’s about all I have to say. Sleep tight, chickadee. Silk concluded by patting Ernestine’s folded hands.

  • • •

  When Buddy pulled up in front of the Greyhound Station at five-thirty in the morning, Clara hugged Silk tight, promising to stay in touch.

  Clara offered Silk some last-minute advice in a whispered voice. “I know you’re the curious type, but promise me you won’t venture down Twelfth Street to those project houses. I heard some of the
church folks say that those Fairground Project people aren’t up to any good. They sit out in their yards cussing and drinking while they play Pinochle until the wee hours of the morning. I’m only warning you because you tend to be such an innocent little lamb, and I don’t want you mixing in with a bad crowd. If you stay on Flower Street, you’ll be fine. For your own safety, please don’t travel to Twelfth Street unless Buddy is with you.”

  Silk nodded. She let out a sigh of relief when Clara and her baby finally boarded a bus that was Mississippi-bound.

  “Bye, Buddy and Silk. Bye, kids,” Clara said, sticking an arm out the open window and waving. “Tell Aunt Silk, Uncle Buddy, and your cousins bye-bye,” she said to Vernon, Jr., holding his wrist and waving for him.

  Aunt Silk, my ass. I ain’t no kin to that little rugrat. Silk smiled sweetly and waved vigorously.

  On the way back home, Silk scooted close to Buddy, and they drove back to Chester snuggled up together like teenage lovebirds. Buddy ran his fingers through Silk’s hair and she caressed his hand as he shifted the gears. The three children sat in the backseat, quiet and forlorn. They appeared lost and bewildered, but Silk and Buddy were so wrapped up in each other, neither seemed to notice.

  Buddy had to return to his job after being off for over a week on bereavement leave. Before dropping Silk and the kids off at home, Buddy reached in his pocket. “Here’s your household money for the week,” he said, slipping Silk twenty-five dollars. It was a generous amount, and Buddy smiled proudly.

  Silk was disappointed, but didn’t show it. She’d seen Buddy’s checkbook that had both his and Ernestine’s name engraved on every check. She wanted Ernestine’s name replaced with her own, but would wait until after they were married before she brought up the subject.

  “Don’t forget to call the hospital to check on Pamela and Paulette,” Buddy reminded. “Let the head nurse know that I’ll stop by as soon as I get off work today.”

  Standing on the front porch with an arm wrapped around Dallas and with the two boys standing uncomfortably at her side, Silk waved to Buddy. “Have a good day at work, darling,” she said, mimicking the behavior of a loving mate.

  “Bye, Daddy,” Dallas said, but the sullen boys didn’t open their mouths.

  “Tell your father, goodbye,” Silk prompted Bruce and Myron through gritted teeth.

  Solemn-faced, the boys held up their hands limply. When Buddy’s car roared away, Silk glared at his sons. “I can see that I’m gonna have to teach you two boys a lesson about plucking my nerves. Get in the house…both of you,” she said, giving Myron a shove and smacking the back of Bruce’s head.

  “Ow!” Bruce hollered and flinched as if he’d been bopped upside the head with a brick. His overreaction aggravated Silk.

  “Hush up before I give you something to holler about,” Silk threatened.

  “You’re not my mother, and you’re not allowed to hit me.” Bruce scrunched up his lips and stared daggers at Silk.

  His insolence infuriated her, and she was of a mind to gather switches from the backyard and whip his behind. But she had second thoughts about that. Buddy might not take too kindly to her beating the living daylights out of his kids before they were married, and so she decided to punish Bruce in a different way.

  Silk and the three kids filed into the house, and the children went straight to the living room and turned on the TV set and changed the channel to cartoons.

  “No television for you, Bruce. You’re punished for sassing me, so march your butt upstairs and sit in your room.”

  “Sit in my room and do what?” Bruce demanded.

  “I don’t care what you do, but you’d better get out of my face. Now, get up those stairs!”

  The loud volume of Silk’s voice caused Dallas to jump in fear. Myron stared at Silk, wearing a shocked expression while Bruce dragged himself up the stairs with his head hung low.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Myron.”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Keep on sassing me with your eyes and you gonna find yourself on punishment right along with your brother.”

  Silk exited the living room and ventured into the kitchen to figure out what to fix for breakfast. Countless Tupperware containers and foil-covered plates were stacked in the refrigerator. There was enough ready-made food to feed the family lunch and dinner for weeks. But there wasn’t anything suitable for breakfast. Nor were there any snacks that would satisfy Silk’s sweet tooth.

  With the spending money Buddy had given her, she supposed she could spare a few dollars for milk and cereal for the kids and a few dollars more for her personal stash of treats.

  “Where’s the closest store?” Silk asked Myron.

  “Max’s store is right over there on Twelfth Street.” Myron pointed toward the window, while his eyes were glued to the TV screen.

  “Glass’s store is a little further down Twelfth Street,” Dallas added. “Mommy likes to buy from Mr. Glass because he’s colored.”

  Since Mommy preferred the colored store, Silk decided to patronize Max’s. “You kids stay in the house and don’t budge until I get back,” Silk instructed.

  Silk was excited about exploring Twelfth Street, the raunchy part of the neighborhood that Clara had warned her about. Besides the people she’d met in The Melody Lounge the other night, Silk had only become acquainted with stuffy, church folks in Chester, and she was itching to meet some folks who knew how to kick up their heels and have a good time.

  She peered out the front door, trying to get a look at Max’s store, but the elementary school that sat on the corner blocked her view. “I don’t see any store, Myron; all I see is a school and those government homes,” Silk said irritably.

  “The store is on the other side of the school. Do you want me to show you where it is?”

  “No, I’ll find it. Keep an eye on your sister until I get back.” Clutching her purse, Silk left the house, eager for an adventure.

  CHAPTER 19

  Max’s grocery store was located on a property lot that included Freddie’s Barbershop, the Flower Hill bar, six apartments, and the Office of the Magistrate was situated on the far-right corner of the lot.

  The patrons of the barbershop craned their necks to get a look at Silk as she promenaded past the plate-glass window of the shop, swaying her hips and tossing the men a confident smile.

  The grocery store was small, dimly lit, and junky. Max, a Jewish man who looked to be in his mid to late thirties, was behind counter. A woman with pink sponge rollers in her hair stood at the counter waiting for Max to tally up her purchases. Instead of giving him money, she handed him a miniature, black-and-white composition book in which Max jotted down some numbers and returned the book with a smile.

  “Hello, there. You must be new around here. I’d remember a pretty face like yours,” Max, the store owner, greeted. From the shabby appearance of the store, Max wasn’t worth getting to know better, and Silk refrained from conversing with him or even bestowing him with a smile.

  Browsing, she moseyed to the back of the store where a colored boy in his late teens or maybe early twenties was stocking shelves with canned good. Silk found it odd that the stock boy wore sunglasses inside the dimly lit store. The right side of his head was scarred and dented, and when he held up his hand and said, “Hi,” in a childlike voice, she realized he was slow or possibly brain damaged.

  “My name is Sonny Boy. I work here,” he said sluggishly.

  “Good for you,” Silk replied with a sneer. She had no patience for mentally retarded people.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Max asked, coming from behind the counter.

  “Where’s your milk and cereal?”

  “Cereal’s over there.” He pointed to the far wall. “I’ll get the milk for you. Do you want a quart or half-gallon?” Max inquired as he went behind the meat counter to get to the refrigerated products.

  “Make it a half-gallon.” Silk picked up a box of Cheerios, a five-pound
bag of sugar, and a box of Oreo cookies, and a package of Fig Newtons. “I’d like a Coke while you’re back there…no, make it two Coca-Colas, and a quart of orange juice,” she called to Max.

  “Two Coca-Colas and a quart of orange juice,” Sonny Boy repeated, irking Silk with the sound of his thick voice.

  Max brought the milk, sodas, and orange juice to the counter and Silk added an assortment of candy bars, a pack of Tastykake Krimpets, a box of Cracker Jacks, and a family-size bag of barbecue potato chips to her order.

  “You’ve got a large order here. If you need help with your bags, Sonny Boy won’t mind carrying them for you,” Max offered.

  “I don’t mind carrying them for you,” Sonny Boy parroted.

  Silk surveyed Sonny Boy. The way he talked was pissing her off, and his dented-in head was hard on the eyes. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked Max with a scowl.

  “Something happened to him down South when he was only a boy. He’s not right in the here.” Max tapped on his temple. “But he’s harmless,” he quickly added. “Sonny Boy’s as innocent as a child.”

  “Why’s he wearing them sunglasses? Is something wrong with his eyes, too?”

  Max nodded. “He’s blind in one eye, and uh, partially blind in the other. But he gets around just fine.”

  “Was he born like that?”

  “No,” Max said grimly. “His eye sight was damaged also during that very unfortunate incident that happened while Sonny Boy was living in the South. I’d rather not discuss it. It’s a good thing for Sonny Boy that his parents sent him to live with his aunt here in Chester. At least in the North he won’t have to suffer any more racial injustice.”

  Silk shrugged indifferently. She didn’t give a damn about Sonny Boy’s problems. “Okay, well, sure he can carry my bags. So, what’s the damage?” Silk asked lightheartedly, nodding toward her groceries.