Authors: Lynne Bryant
Tags: #Mississippi, #Historic Sites, #Tour Guides (Persons), #Historic Buildings - Mississippi, #Mississippi - Race Relations, #Family Life, #African Americans - Mississippi, #Fiction, #General, #African American, #Historic Sites - Mississippi, #African Americans
"Oh, yeah ... Gracie," he
says, charming her with his smile, "how 'bout it?" Zero rolls his
eyes in exasperation. This is obviously not how he planned this, but Grace, as
usual, puts everyone at ease.
"Yes, I'd love that," she
says, placing her arm through Junior's. "Let's eat."
Zero offers his arm to me and we
walk over to get in line behind the old folks and our parents. I glance over at
my mama and realize she's watching me. Grace and I are eighteen years old now,
and the boys are twenty. Both her grandma and my mama keep telling us that we
need to act like young ladies around these boys. They don't want folks talking.
We fill our plates and find a spot
under a gnarly old oak tree that's particularly shady. We're mostly quiet for a
while except for making small talk about how good everything is. The boys lay
into their plates of food like they haven't eaten in a week. Gradually we begin
to talk about last night's show and how great it was for Junior to play with
Mr. Armstrong. I'm feeling so grown-up today, sitting here with our beaus under
this big old spreading oak tree. And Zero even offers to bring us more food. I
decide that's definitely courting behavior. Of course, Junior, my stupid
brother, is starting to fall asleep. Poor Gracie! I don't know why she puts up
with him. But it does give us a chance to talk while Zero's gone.
Grace and I are giggling over how
much chicken and dumplings Junior has consumed already. He's leaning against
the trunk of the oak tree we're all sitting under, rubbing his belly and
groaning. Zero is headed back over to the long tables spread with food.
"Oh, and
Zero ...
get me some more of your grandma's
fried chicken, please," I say. I bat my eyes at him and give him my
prettiest smile. Zero is looking particularly handsome today in his white
Sunday shirt and gray serge pants. He takes such particulars with his clothes,
you would never know it's the only good set he has. The only other clothes he
owns are work overalls.
"And I need one of Miss Mamie's
fried apple pies," Grace calls before Zero takes two steps away. He shakes
his head and grins, working his way through the groups of folks scattered
around the grassy riverbank on blankets and under trees.
"Lordy, how do you girls eat so
much?" Junior asks. "I ain't going to be able to do any singing this
afternoon. I got to have me a nap." He slouches down and puts his hat over
his face.
"You always say that,"
says Grace, leaning over to knock his hat off. "And then you end up
singing louder and longer than anyone else."
"He does," I say and
laugh. "And he also reads music better than any of the rest of us."
Junior picks up his hat and puts it
over his face again. "Y'all wake me up when it's time to sing."
"Zero's not talking so much
about going to California these days," I say to Grace as we watch him stop
to help one of the elderly ladies out of her chair.
"I know." She nods.
"And I think the whole reason he's changed his mind is you."
I blush then, feeling a little
quiver of excitement. "Do you think so?"
"I do. I think he's smitten
with you. And he knows you don't want to leave your mama and daddy."
"You're right. I don't." I
squeeze Grace's arm as I say, "Oh, Gracie, I hope it's true. You know Mama
married Papa when she was eighteen."
Grace frowns and pulls away.
"But what about nursing school? What about how we
said
we were going to be different from
these other girls around here?" Junior snorts and turns his head in his
sleep. Grace is temporarily distracted from fussing at me. She bats away a fly
that's buzzing around Junior's face. "He wouldn't be so tired if he hadn't
stayed up all night talking with those musicians," she says.
"Of course I'm going to nursing
school," I say. "But, to tell you the
truth ..."
I lower my voice to a whisper.
"I would marry Zero today
if I could ...
so I wouldn't have to worry about
being such a good girl
anymore ...
if you know what I mean."
Grace's eyes get big and she looks
at me like she's shocked. "Why, Adelle Lee Jackson, you little hussy!"
"Shh, now," I say,
grinning at her. "Here comes Zero."
We sit up and act all innocent as
Zero passes around the food he's brought back. We munch contentedly, watching
the people milling about laughing and talking. When
we've
finished eating,
Zero
stands
up,
stretches, and looks down at me.
"Um ... Grace, if you'll excuse
us ... Adelle, I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk down by the river
before the singing starts?"
I'm startled by this, since Zero
knows how strict Mama is about me being alone with a boy, even him, now. As I'm
figuring out how to answer, he says, "I did ask your daddy's permission.
He and your mama said it was
fine, as long as we stay in
sight."
Grace turns to me and grins, giving
me a little wink. "You go ahead, Addie. I'll stay here with Mr.
Sleepyhead."
Zero and I walk along the bank of
the river, mostly in silence. I'm still a little off balance by how different
things feel between us today. What happened? I find myself more conscious of
his shirtsleeve against my arm and his hand against my back when he says,
"Let's stop here for a minute."
We look out across the Tombigbee
River, at the calm brown water, and I imagine us coming here with our children
someday, letting them play in the mud on the riverbank. Zero stoops down and
picks up several rocks and begins skipping them across the water. I watch and
think how graceful he is.
"You know that I'm saving money
to go to college as soon as I can?" he asks, not looking up.
"Yes, I know," I say,
feeling my heart start to beat faster, wondering where he's going with this.
He squats again
for
another rock and pauses there,
staring at the river. "And then I'm going to medical school."
"Yes."
"I can't let anything stop me.
And, well ..." He seems a little flustered, but I let him sort it out. He
stands and turns to me. "It's just that I have to do this, Adelle. I want
to be able to support my family. I want my kids to have a house like your daddy
provided...."
"I understand," I say. Why
does he look so worried? I've never doubted for one minute that he'll do
everything he's planned.
"What's wrong, Zero?"
He stands and glances back toward
the church folks. I look, too, and I can see his grandma deep in conversation
with my mama. Mama lifts her hand and motions for us to come back. I ignore
her.
His words come out all in a rush as
he stands up and comes over to me. "It's just that I'd like us to have an
understanding...."
My heart is in my throat now as he
takes my hands and turns so that his back is to our people, shielding me from
their view. "I was hoping that when I'm done, and when I'm ready to
provide
for
us, that you and me
could
...
get married." He pushes the last words out as if he's been holding his
breath.
I don't know whether to laugh or
cry. It seems like such an impossibly long time. College, then medical school.
I'll be so old by then. He must see the confusion on my face. He drops my hands
and thrusts his hands into his pockets.
"Will you at least think about
it?"
I realize then that he
thinks I'm hesitant. I laugh at the thought that he can't see I'm crazy for
him. He starts to turn away.
"No, wait." I
reach for his arm. "Yes, Zero. That's what I want, too ... to marry
you." I take a deep breath. "I'll wait as long as you need me
to."
Mama's calling my name
now. Zero and I both turn and shout, "Coming!" at the same time. When
we see our folks start to pack up the dinner, Zero grabs my hand and pulls me
behind a huge tree near the riverbank. He gently places his hands on either
side of my waist and leans down for a kiss. It's a sweet kiss, full of promise.
"I love you, Addie
Jackson," he says.
"I love you, too,
Zero," I say, throwing my arms around his neck.
As we start back to join
our families to prepare for the afternoon filled with singing, my heart is
about to burst with joy. I feel like it will be obvious to everyone that Zero
and I are truly a couple now. I'm so preoccupied
with my own
thoughts that I don't
notice anything strange until Zero suddenly stops.
"I'll see you at
the singing," he says, and he's gone, walking toward a group of men I now
notice are standing apart from the women, who are busily packing boxes and
baskets with leftover food. All the contentment
I was feeling is
instantly replaced with a sharp sting of fear. My papa and Mr. Morris are
talking to two white men. In the distance I can see a truck parked on the road.
Two white boys are sitting in the back of the truck. I find Mama wrapping
leftover corn bread in wax paper.
"Mama, what's going
on?"
She looks up at me, then
glances in the direction of where Papa stands quietly listening as the white
man shakes his finger near Papa's face. The look on her face matches the
feeling I have in my stomach.
"That's John
Davenport from the mill, and A. W. Spencer from the bank. They're having a word
with your papa," she says, as if this is an everyday occurrence. But I can
tell from the way her hands are shaking that she's not as calm as she's trying
to look.
"A word about
what?"
"I don't know,
child,"
she
says
sharply. "Here, help me pack this food." She hands me a cake to wrap
and I take it, still watching the men. Zero has joined the group now and, as I
watch, he walks over near my papa, looking defiantly at the white men. Papa
never takes his eyes off John Davenport as his arm comes out and gently pushes
Zero back.
"Where's
Junior?" I ask, thinking that he should be there with Papa, standing up,
like
Zero, to these white
men.
"He and Grace left
already to help get the hymnbooks ready over at the church."
I finish wrapping the
cake and help Mama carry the boxes to our car. The truck with the white boys in
the back is parked nearby, and as Mama and I approach, the boys whistle and
make rude comments.
I start to say something
and Mama stops me. "Just ignore them," she says.
"But, Mama, they
shouldn't be talking to us that way."
"I know it, child.
But sometimes it's better to keep your head down and your mouth shut."
Everything inside me
rebels at this statement, but I trust my mama. So I stay quiet and feel all of
my earlier happiness and excitement draining out of me through the big hole
that's opened up in my perfect day.
"So what were those men talking to your lather
about?" asks Roxanne.
"I overheard Mama and Papa later that evening when
we got home," Adelle replies. "Papa said that John Davenport had
somehow gotten wind of Papa and some of the other colored businessmen trying to
get more colored folks to vote. He told Mr. Spencer and they decided to come by
and have a talk with Papa."
"About what?" Roxanne asks. She hasn't caught
the irony in Adelle's voice.
I decide to jump in. "You see, Roxanne, those
white men didn't want the colored folks to start voting, acting like we had
rights."
"But they couldn't stop you. What did they
say?"
Adelle answers with a sigh. "It was just another
of those thinly veiled threats. I remember that night how Papa almost spat out
the words when he told Mama what they'd said. 'We wouldn't want trouble stirred
up in our little community, now, would we, Dr. Jackson?' I was afraid for Papa
after that."