“It’s been good being here too,” said Man, “but since Stacey’s going back, I’ll be going too. I can start classes at the university in a few weeks.”
Christopher-John looked at Man, then over at Aunt Loretta and Uncle Hammer. “Mainly I came out here to be with them, but like Stacey, I figure it’s best I go back.”
Aunt Loretta laughed. “I know! You got a girl to think about!”
Christopher-John grinned. “Well, I suppose she’s got something to do with it.”
Aunt Loretta’s eyes turned to me. “So, that just leaves you, Cassie. What’re you planning on doing? You’ve got that offer.”
I was quiet a moment, then sighed. “Don’t know yet.”
“Well, like you told me a couple hours ago,” said Stacey, “you better make your mind up quick. I want to be on the road come daybreak. Car’s already tanked up, ready to go.”
“Cassie, you know you’re welcome to stay here, job or no job,” said Aunt Loretta. “Isn’t she, Hammer?”
Uncle Hammer looked at me. “She knows that. Boys too.” With that said, Uncle Hammer rose from his chair. “Come on back to my office, Stacey. We need to call Strickland, let him know your decision.”
Christopher-John, Clayton Chester, and I stayed talking to Aunt Loretta, waiting for them to return. Finally, Christopher-John and Man said they were going up. They had packing to do. Aunt Loretta asked if I was going up too, but I told her I wanted to wait for Stacey and Uncle Hammer. She then made us a pot of hot cocoa, and after pouring a cup for each of us, she kicked off her shoes and tucked her long legs close to her body on the couch and encouraged me to do the same. We sat there talking until Uncle Hammer and Stacey returned.
Uncle Hammer said good night and Aunt Loretta said, “I’ll be down early to get breakfast on the table and fix some food for y’all to take. Now, Cassie, you leave those dishes where they are. I’ll get them in the morning.” Then she and Uncle Hammer headed upstairs.
Stacey started to follow them up, then turned back to me. “You made up your mind yet?”
“Not quite. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“Well, time is short.”
“I know that.”
Stacey was silent, his eyes reading mine. He understood the difficulty of the decision I had to make. “All right then. See you in the morning.”
With the family upstairs, I sat alone in the quiet room and pondered my future. I was still there when Stacey, Christopher-John, and Man came down, ready to leave.
I told them I was not going back to Toledo.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
It was not easy saying good-bye to my brothers. “I guess you know what you’re doing,” said Stacey. “You’re giving up a good teaching job come fall.”
“Good teaching job maybe, but you know how I feel about that.”
Christopher-John frowned. He was concerned about my being alone. “No family down there in L.A., Cassie. Won’t you be lonely?”
“Probably so, but think on it,” I said, playfully tugging on his arm. “Los Angeles! It’ll be an adventure!”
“Adventure’s not always what it’s cracked up to be,” warned Man. “Don’t be too quick to jump into anything doesn’t feel right.”
I smiled. “Believe me. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
Little Man smiled back. “Well, that’s not saying a whole lot.”
Stacey hugged me. “Just make sure you keep yourself safe, Cassie. Keep yourself safe.”
As I stood in the driveway with Uncle Hammer and Aunt Loretta and watched the Mercury roll down the street, then turn the corner out of our view, I felt a new kind of loneliness sweep over me. My brothers were going, leaving me behind. I had been without them before, but this was new. Before they had been the ones going into the unknown. Each of my brothers had gone off on his own. I never had.
Now I was going into the unknown.
CASSIE’S LOVE STORY
CHAPTER I
(1947–1948)
I was on my own.
For the first time in my life I was without Mama and Papa and Big Ma and my brothers. Uncle Hammer and Aunt Loretta had driven the nearly four hundred miles down the coast to take me to Los Angeles and had stayed several days with the Stricklands, enjoying vacation time with them while I got settled. Before they left I had already started working at Mr. Strickland’s office on Central Avenue, where he and his partner, Rowland Tomlinson, ran their trucking, real estate, and insurance businesses. Like Farish Street in Jackson and Dorr Street in Toledo, Central Avenue, simply called “the Avenue” by many, was the main corridor of the Negro community. Businesses of all kinds, from auto repair shops to medical, dental, and law offices, clothing stores and grocery stores, records shops, restaurants and cafés, theaters, and nightclubs were on the street. Real estate and insurance businesses like Strickland-Tomlinson were also there.
Strickland-Tomlinson was a quiet office and pleasant enough. Everybody working at the agency was colored. That was the way Negro businesses were back in Toledo and certainly down in Mississippi. Black business owners employed other black people. Los Angeles was no different. I had never worked in an office setting before, but I soon learned my duties and I felt comfortable during those first few days while Mr. Strickland was in the office. But then a few weeks after Uncle Hammer and Aunt Loretta left, Mr. Strickland had a stroke, and things began to change.
Mr. Strickland’s stroke was severe. He was partially paralyzed, could not speak, and it was expected that he would stay that way. Full recovery seemed doubtful. With Mrs. Strickland already in a wheelchair, the Stricklands’ adult children decided to move their parents in with them. That left me without a place to stay, but then Rowland Tomlinson and his wife invited me to stay with them.
It seemed to be working out all right for me. Instead of taking care of an elderly Mrs. Strickland and helping with the housecleaning in exchange for room and board, I now was responsible for some light housecleaning on weekends and helping care for the Tomlinsons’ four children before they were off to school as well as some weekends. The children were all under twelve, and I enjoyed being with them. I liked Mrs. Tomlinson too. She was fair with me and gave me every other weekend off from household and child-caring duties once the house was cleaned on Saturday mornings. Then I was free to do whatever I wanted. It was seemingly a good arrangement, but there was one problem. I was not comfortable with Rowland Tomlinson.
A much younger man than Mr. Strickland, Rowland Tomlinson seemed nice enough. He was always polite and smiling, but both at the office and at home I often found his eyes on me, following my movements a bit too much. It was never anything he said, but I just had an uneasy feeling about him. I tried to dismiss it. There was no one I could talk to about how I was feeling, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
All of Mr. Strickland and Mr. Tomlinson’s businesses were located in one building, and there were two floor levels. On the first floor were desks for the individual insurance salesmen who walked throughout the neighborhood selling insurance and collecting payments, for two real estate agents, and for a receptionist. A set of stairs led to the second floor, which opened onto a balcony partially overlooking the lower floor. Two secretary desks were located in the balcony portion of the office. A hallway led from the outer office to the private offices of Mr. Strickland and Mr. Tomlinson. When I first came to work for Mr. Strickland, I was at a desk on the first floor working as a receptionist, answering the phone, greeting people as they came in, and handling paperwork for the newly formed trucking company. At first I was concerned that since Mr. Strickland had hired me and he was no longer in the office I might lose the job, but that turned out not to be the case. Although Mr. Strickland’s trucking venture was put on hold, I was given other duties, and one week after Mr. Strickland’s stroke, Mr. Tomlinson moved me upstairs to a secretary’s desk. The woman who pr
eviously had sat at the desk was moved to a desk downstairs.
The other desk in the balcony office was occupied by a woman named Justine Curry. Just one look at her and I could understand why Mr. Tomlinson had dared not move her. She had been Mr. Strickland’s secretary, had been with him more than ten years, and she looked formidable. Justine was square-built in size, in her mid-thirties. She was not friendly, actually rather gruff in manner, but Mr. Strickland had trusted her totally. She knew the insurance business inside and out. She never smiled, at least not while I was around. Sometimes I found her staring at me from her desk across the balcony, but she spoke not a word to me unless necessary.
I got the feeling she didn’t like me.
When I said good morning to her, her only acknowledgment was a grunt. Basically, that was our entire communication for the day unless office work required our interaction. I chose not to let her attitude bother me. I had learned some time ago that how other people saw me was up to them. I had been taught by Mama and Papa and Big Ma to live up to a certain standard, and I tried my best to do that. The fact that I had done nothing to Justine, yet she chose to be abrupt with me, was irritating, but I let it be. I continued to say good morning and daily she continued to grunt acknowledgment until finally one day, while sitting at her desk, she said, “Don’t it bother you?”
I glanced up from my work. “What?”
“That you sitting up here and Louise sitting downstairs. That’s her desk.” There was a slight accent to her voice, but I didn’t know from where, and I wasn’t interested enough to find out.
“It wasn’t my idea,” I said. “Mr. Tomlinson moved me up here.”
“Yeah, that’s just it,” said Justine. “Mr. Tomlinson moved you up here. You ever wonder about that?” Before I could answer, she swiveled in her chair, turning her back to me, and returned to her work.
Her words were not lost on me. I did wonder about it and even more so when I was in the Tomlinson home and Rowland Tomlinson was there. The Tomlinsons had made space for me on the first floor, in Mr. Tomlinson’s den, where there was a sofa bed. Mrs. Tomlinson told me that the room was mine and that I should make myself comfortable there despite the fact that Mr. Tomlinson had a desk and files in the room. She said he seldom used the room and whatever work he might bring home, he could do in another room. Mr. Tomlinson had affably agreed with his wife, but said I would have to forgive him if he barged in from time to time to retrieve some of his files. I had thought nothing of it at the time, but already on more than one occasion after I had retired for the night, he had knocked softly on the door and said he needed to get a file. The first time he knocked, I had not yet pulled out the bed and was not undressed. The second time he knocked I was already in bed and the lights were out.
“Yes?” I said when I heard the knock. “Who is it?”
Without giving an answer, Mr. Tomlinson opened the door and stuck his head in. “Oh, I’m sorry, Cassie,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were already in bed. Apologies, but I need to get a file from my desk. I know exactly where it is. Won’t take but a minute.” He started into the darkened room.
I was startled by his intrusion. “Could you wait a minute please?” I sat up, pulling the covers close to my chest and switching on the lamp next to the bed.
“Oh, you didn’t have to turn on the light, Cassie,” he said pleasantly. “Light from the hall is sufficient. I know exactly where the file is, and like I said, this won’t take me but a minute.” He came farther into the room, leaving the door open. “Don’t mind me, Cassie. Go on back to sleep. I’ll be out of here in a jiffy.” He went directly to his desk and opened a lower drawer. I watched his every movement. I heard him flicking through files. His eyes were concentrated on the drawer, then he pulled out a folder and held it up with a victorious smile. “Got it!” he said, as if he had just scored a feat of some sort. He closed the drawer and headed for the door. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Cassie,” he said as he put his hand on the doorknob. “Good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Tomlinson,” I said.
“By the way, that’s a very pretty gown.” He smiled, then closed the door.
I sat for a moment listening to his footsteps going down the hall, then jumped up and hurried over to the door. There was no lock on it. A heavy leather chair was nearby. I pushed it over and jammed the top of it under the doorknob. After that, I had done the same every night before I went to bed. Rowland Tomlinson hadn’t come back for another file since that night, and I didn’t mention his coming to the den to Mrs. Tomlinson. I didn’t want to make something of what maybe could have been nothing, yet I watched myself around Rowland Tomlinson as I felt him watching me.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
After that first brief conversation initiated by Justine we went back to our daily acknowledgments of one another, my good mornings and her grunts. I was cordial, but I wasn’t going out of my way to make friends with her. It was now clear she didn’t like me, and the truth was I didn’t care much for her either. We mostly ignored each other until one day after Rowland Tomlinson had come from his office and stood next to me as he dictated a letter. When he left with the first draft of the letter, I glanced up and saw Justine watching me. I turned and went back to my typing. Seconds later I was startled by Justine, who had come over to my desk and was standing directly in front of it.
“You seeing anybody?” she abruptly asked.
I was totally not expecting such a question. “What?”
“You had a man, maybe Mr. Tomlinson wouldn’t be so interested in you.”
I was surprised that she had noticed Rowland Tomlinson’s attention toward me, but I said, “What are you talking about?”
“You ought to meet my brother.” She turned then and went back to her desk. I just sat there puzzled, wondering where all that had come from.
A few weeks later as the weekend neared, Justine approached me again. I was standing at a table close to the hallway, pouring a cup of coffee to take to Mr. Tomlinson. “I know you staying with the Tomlinsons,” she said, “and you working with that man too. Don’t he get on your nerves?”
I was not about to confide my feelings to Justine and get into an office mess. Mr. Tomlinson had done nothing to me except make me feel uneasy and I certainly didn’t want to say anything that could get back to him or Mrs. Tomlinson. “Justine, what are you talking about?” I said, putting the cup on a tray.
“Girl, you know what I’m talking about. I see him watching you. Like I said, you had a man and he knew you had a man, maybe he’d leave you alone.”
“He’s not bothering me, Justine.”
“Yeah, well, you just wait. I’ve seen men with that look before. You young and you pretty.” I was surprised by the compliment. That was the first nice thing Justine had said to me. She paused a moment. “You ought to meet my brother. He’s got a woman right now, but she’s not right for him.”
“And you think I would be?”
“You’re different.” Justine studied me as if to see my reaction to what she said. “He’s my baby brother, lot younger than me, more your age, just returned from the war not too long ago. Maybe somebody like you’d be good for him. I guarantee you’d like him.”
This was the second time Justine had mentioned her brother to me. She might have wanted me to meet him, but I certainly wasn’t interested in meeting her brother. If he was anything like Justine, I didn’t want anything to do with him. In fact, I didn’t want anything to do with anybody connected with Justine outside the office. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now, Justine,” I said, adding sugar and cream to the tray. “I’m just trying to make a living.”
Justine stepped away, then came back as I turned toward the hallway. “I got a sofa at my place you can stay on you ever want to get away for the weekend. I got two kids and my man, J.D., there, but I’ll see they don’t bother you.”
I smiled at her invitation, thinking that was the last way I would want to spend a weekend, but I said, “Well, I thank you, Justine, but really—”
“Just let me know,” she said, ending the conversation and walking away.
I tried to figure Justine out. She was gruff and unfriendly, yet she had extended this invitation to me. I wasn’t about to accept it, but I thought on it, and as my free weekend approached, I thought on it more and more. Thursday night made up my mind for me when there was a soft knock on the door and Rowland Tomlinson called quietly, “Cassie, may I come in? I need to get a file.” I said nothing. I was already in bed. The lights were out. I held my breath, listening as the doorknob turned. There was nothing more from him. I heard him walk away. I left the chair in place. The next day I rose early, tended to the chores I was to do on Saturday, and told Mrs. Tomlinson I would be away for the weekend.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
After work on Friday I went with Justine to her apartment. Outside stairs led to the apartment on the second floor. The apartment was cramped and not in the best order. Clothes and papers were scattered around the living room. Dirty dishes were on the kitchen table and pots from previous cooking were on the stove. Justine made no excuses for the mess, except to say she had two children and a man. She implied that cleaning the apartment was their responsibility. There were two bedrooms in the apartment. Her children, a girl, twelve, and a boy, five, shared one of the rooms and she and her man slept in the other. Her man, J.D., was in the apartment when we arrived. He was a scrawny-looking man and had little to say. The children were not there. They were staying with a friend of Justine’s for the weekend. Justine showed me to their room. The room had twin beds. Justine gave me some sheets, then announced that she and J.D were going out for the evening. She didn’t invite me to go with them. Justine said there was food in the refrigerator I could cook. After she and J.D. left, I realized that maybe staying at Justine’s was not the best idea, but I had committed to the weekend so I figured to make the best of it. I put the clean sheets on the bed, then went to the kitchen and got started on the dishes. I thought that was the least I could do to show my appreciation to Justine for her hospitality.
All the Days Past, All the Days to Come Page 14