Coffee Will Make You Black (19 page)

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And plus I think the natural looks good on some people.”

“Well, I've yet to see it improve anyone's appearance,” Mrs. Mathews said coldly.

Mama sighed, “I don't care for the natural look either.”

“My Afro-American History teacher, Brother Kambui, says that if the white woman can wear her hair in its natural state, the black woman should be free to do the same.”

“I thought the negro's name was Johnson.”

“His name used to be Mr. Johnson, Mama, but he changed it because he said Johnson is a slave name.”

“Honey, don't you listen to Brother Watusi …”

“Brother Kambui,” I corrected Mrs. Mathews.

“Whatever, anyway you keep right on straightening your hair, honey. Men don't want to be running their fingers through a bunch of naps, trust me.”

Mama nodded. “You sisters will be walking around here nappy-headed with rings through your noses and next thing you know Brother Kambui will be marrying some blonde.”

“Brother Kambui is a revolutionary, Mama.”

“Why do they let him teach at your school?” Terri sounded concerned instead of excited.

“Revolutionaries are the main ones who are talking black and sleeping white,” Mama whispered.

“What's sleeping white mean?” Kevin had sneaked up on us.

“Never mind. Here, get a big piece of your grandma's sweet-potato pie.”

“Terri, are you still planning to join the Peace Corps?”

“The Peace Corps? Why, I'd forgotten all about that. Boy, that seems ages ago.”

“Remember, we were going to teach in Africa? We couldn't decide between Kenya and Ethiopia, remember? I've still got my application.”

“Stevie, you haven't changed, you're still so … idealistic.”

“Terri's dad wants her to major in Accounting when she goes to college. He says that's where the money is. And he's with the IRS, he ought to know.”

“Mom, you know, I really want to be an airline stewardess and travel all over the world until I meet a rich man.”

Mom? Since when did Terri call her mother “Mom”? What happened to “Mama”?

“Stevie, what do you want to be now?”

“Oh, I can't decide between a newspaper reporter and an actress. I'm in the Drama Club at school.”

“Ray wants Jean to become a lawyer, he says
that's
where the money is.” Mama probably didn't want to be outdone, I thought, because Daddy wanting me to be a lawyer was news to me.

“Today, you can be anything you put your mind to. The opportunities are there like they've never been before.”

“Yes,” Mama agreed with Mrs. Mathews.

“Hey, when I grow up, I'm gonna be rich,” Kevin said, finishing his pie. “I'm gonna have me a place looking out over the ocean.”

“Which ocean?” Terri asked.

“The one we got right here in Chicago.”

“Boy, you know we don't have an ocean in Chicago!” Mama shouted.

“It looks like an ocean, I know it's not a sea.”

“Kevin, you mean Lake Michigan,” I said gently, not wanting my brother to feel like a fool in front of people.

“Oh, yeah, Lake Michigan,” Kevin mumbled, staring down at his lap.

“A friend of Terrence's sells encyclopedias; you might want to invest in a set. If you don't live in a neighborhood with good schools, an encyclopedia set can make all the difference in the world.”

“We have an Encyclopedia Britannica and a big Webster's dictionary,” Mama snapped at Mrs. Mathews.

Grandma wrapped her arms around Kevin and turned toward Mrs. Mathews. “I hear y'all's area is pretty much all black now,” she said, smiling. “It sure did change quickly, huh? Soon y'all will be right back in the ghetto again, huh?”

Mrs. Mathews cleared her throat. I knew Grandma's dig had gotten to her.

“So far we've been able to keep the lowlife out.” Mrs. Mathews raised her eyebrows. “I pray that we can continue to hold the line.”

Grandma cut her eyes at Mrs. Mathews. I knew that she wanted to read her chapter and verse, but she had to be polite since we were in the church.

“Kevin, baby, come help Grandma, I need somebody strong with muscles to carry the punch bowl to the kitchen.”

Kevin jumped up and made a muscle like Popeye and followed Grandma to the main table.

“Mother Dickens, your sweet-potato pie is screamin'!” A woman in a fur stole shouted from across the room. “You put your foot in it!” she added.

“Thanks, Sister Little.” Grandma beamed.

Telling a cook she'd put her foot in a dish was a very high compliment.

“I see Mrs. Little still looks and sounds like a Baptist,” Mrs. Mathews said, sighing.

Mama nodded.

“Stevie, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not really, Terri, do you?”

“Not yet, but I'm working on it.”

I glanced over at Mama. “I'm not allowed to date until I'm sixteen. Let's see, I've got eleven months, one week and how many days, Mama?”

“Now, Jean Eloise is just being silly, she's not really all that boy-minded. I'm thankful for that. I'd hate to have a daughter who was boy crazy.”

“Well, Terri Ann isn't boy crazy, I mean she likes boys, which is natural at fifteen.”

Mama cleared her throat, “Well, Jean Eloise likes boys, I didn't mean to imply otherwise.”

“Otherwise.” The word hung in the air like laundry with too much starch in it, I thought.

“Your Jean gives every indication of being normal. I think it goes without saying that we both want the best for our daughters.”

I let out a breath after being pronounced normal.

“I've always been impressed with Stevie, ever since she was a little girl,” Mrs. Mathews continued. “I was particular about who my children associated with from day one. That's why I'm about to go out on a limb now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mathews. I'm just sorry that Jean Eloise has never made another close friend that came up to Terri.”

I frowned at Mama.

“Please call me Regina. After all these years we should be on a first-name basis.”

“And call me Evelyn. Anyway, Regina, you were saying, about going out on a limb?”

“Oh, yes, you see, it's so important that young people don't get mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

“And these days it's more important than ever,” Mama added.

“Yes, well, to make a long story short, some of the girls in our area have formed a club …”

“It's called Charisma,” Terri interrupted.

“Yes, well, the girls are meeting to plan the first get-together, and I don't see why Stevie couldn't be included.”

Mama was grinning and nodding and Terri was smiling. Hey, maybe we could be tight again.

“Will the get-togethers be coed?” Mama asked.

“Yes, Evelyn, but the young men are all gentlemen. And there is always adult supervision. These are college-bound young people, all from good homes.”

“Is Reggie going to be at the get-together?” I asked.

“Of course.” Terri winked.

“Sounds good to me.” I winked back.

“Regina, I like the situation that you've described. Who knows, I might just be willing to lower the dating age, under the right circumstances.”

“Well then, it's set,” Mrs. Mathews said, reaching for her handbag.

The program was about to start. A large woman in a flowery dress was calling for everyone's attention.

“You remember Roland Anderson, don't you, Terri?” I asked.

“Yeah, he was always on the honor roll, wore glasses.”

“We've gotten to be friends.”

“Well, the whole family's gone militant. Roland and his sisters and brother don't even come to church anymore,” Mama whispered.

“Roland just loaned me
The Autobiography of Malcolm X.”

Mrs. Mathews shook her head, “And they used to be such fine people.”

“Well, all good things must end. Stevie, Terri Ann will be giving you a call,” she added.

“Cool,” I said, smiling. “I'll walk you all to the door.”

I stood on the church steps, waving goodbye and watching Terri and her mother pushing against the wind to get to their big, shiny car.

“Come on, Terri Ann, let's get out of here before dark. This is Boogaville, remember.”

I could have sworn I heard Terri say, “I sure hope she doesn't tell anybody her father is a janitor.” Or did the wind distort her words?

I stared at the setting sun. My stomach was in knots as I watched it change colors.

It was Sunday afternoon, and me and Mama were in the kitchen. I was washing greens in the sink and Mama was cutting up a chicken and listening to church services on the radio. The only music that could be played in our house on Sundays was gospel. “I'd Trade a Lifetime for Just One Day in Paradise,” Mama sang along with the tenor on the radio. She would listen to Baptist services all afternoon, even though she was a Methodist. The singing and the preaching were powerful enough to make a body want to know the Lord.

David walked into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. He'd shot up recently. He was only thirteen, but he was taller than me and Mama. He thought he was cute, too, even called himself liking this silly girl named Antonia Wilson. Mama said David must be smelling himself.

“Jean, I ran into Carla buying a hoagie and I said, ‘Hey, baby, what's happenin'?' And she said, ‘Tell Stevie, I got it!' I asked her, ‘Got what?' She said, ‘Nigger, just tell her what I said, she'll know.'”

“Oh,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“What did Carla get?” Mama asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, Mama.” I cut my eyes at David for not telling me in private.

“Humph,” Mama grunted, “you're not fooling me. I wasn't born yesterday.”

“Later, y'all,” David said, after gulping down a glass of milk and grabbing a handful of cookies.

I dumped the wet greens into a big pot and began filling it with water.

“Jean, you know, this might be a good time for you to inch away from Carla.”

“What are you talking about, Mama?”

Mama was shaking the breasts in a brown paper bag. Some of the flour was escaping and settling on her nose.

“Get rid of her, Jean Eloise!” Mama said, as cold as a gangster. “Carla was never friendship material, let alone best-friend material.” Mama shook the chicken hard. “It's time to call a spade a spade.”

I felt myself getting hot. I faced Mama with my arms folded and my mouth stuck out. “Mama, will you stop trying to run my life? Carla is my best friend and that's all there is to it.”

“Look, Jean, it was one thing when you were younger, but you're in high school now. You're fifteen, you'll be sixteen next year. It's time to cut Carla loose.”

“It's time to cut you loose,” I mumbled.

“What did you say?” Mama shouted with her hand raised. “Say it again so that I can slap you!”

“I was talking to myself.”

Mama threw the chicken breast into the pan of hot oil. She jumped back to avoid the splattering grease. “One day, maybe you'll realize who your real best friend is. I'm the best friend you will ever have.”

“Mama, how come you hate Carla?” I asked angrily.

“I don't hate Carla. I've always been cordial. Besides, I don't hate anybody. You know that I'm a Christian. It's just that you're at an age now where it matters who your friends are. You lie down with dogs, you should expect to get up with fleas. Who knows what kind of doors will open up for you if you get in with the right crowd. What do you need with somebody like Carla dragging you down for?” Mama set the legs and thighs in the pan.

“Especially now that you've got Charisma,” she continued.

I stirred the pot of greens. “Mama, the club has nothing to do with my friendship with Carla, unless she wants to join.”

“You've got to be kidding!” Mama said, shaking the chicken wings in the bag. “They wouldn't let Carla join Charisma in a million years. You're only getting in by the skin of your teeth, you know.”

I remembered Terri's remark about Daddy being a janitor. I wondered why she hadn't called yet, and if she ever would. The lump in my throat felt as big as the piece of salt pork floating in the greens.

Mama had called me to the phone and whispered excitedly, “It's Terri!” I had almost given up on her. It had been two weeks. I took the phone back to the ironing board in the dining room so Mama wouldn't be breathing down my neck.

“Guess what, Stevie? This is so cool you won't believe it.” Terri sounded happy.

“What, Terri? You met somebody fine?”

“No, Stevie, but I'm working on it.”

“I can't guess, just tell me.”

“Okay, we all came up with this really cool idea. Charisma's having a party a week from this Saturday. Are you free?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” I held the phone under one ear while I pressed Kevin's shirt.

“Now, here's the super-cool part. Okay, there's this one girl, Roberta, who's started wearing her hair in a natural. Anyway, none of the girls in Charisma have afros.”

“Is it a rule?”

“You just don't do it in Charisma, okay? Anyway, this one girl, Beverly, has a brother, Alonzo.… Anyway, Beverly had this really cool idea that nobody should ask Roberta to dance on accounta her hair. Alonzo told the guys and they are all for it. Roberta won't know why everybody's avoiding her like dog mange. It'll be fun to see how long it takes for her to figure it out. See, Stevie, isn't it going to be cool?”

I sat stunned. This was the stupidest thing I'd heard in a long time. I was almost burning a hole in Kevin's cowboy shirt. I set the iron upright. I decided to think before I spoke. I didn't know if cussing Terri out was the right thing to do. I found my voice.