Finding Bluefield (7 page)

“A drink is good. We’ll drink to our baby.”

“You know there’s no drinking when you’re pregnant.” Barbara opened herself a beer and drank.

“This is going to be rough, but I can do it.”

“Does this mean you’ve been unfaithful to me?” Barbara said.

“I closed my eyes and thought about you the whole time.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Anyway, it doesn’t count with a man,” Nicky said.

“So I can have an affair with a man and you won’t mind?”

“I didn’t have an affair. I didn’t even tell him my real name,” Nicky said.

“What name did you use?”

“Yours.”

Barbara stepped back. “Did you tell him where I worked? Where we lived? Is he going to show up here looking for you and find me?”

“Relax. I said I lived in Philadelphia and he lives in California, and I only told him my first name. I mean yours. Your name was all I could think of. That’s kind of cool isn’t it?”

“What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nicky said.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“All that counts is that we’re going to have a baby.”

“Did you?” Barbara repeated.

“Sort of. I mean I knew why I was doing it. Funny, this time, he was real slow, real patient, and I was in a hurry.”

“The baby has his genes. It’s half his, you know.”

“I know, but the baby’s still half mine, and the part that counts is that we’re the ones who are going to raise this baby. Just like if we adopted, only better. Starting right now, this minute, we’re the parents. That guy, who was a nice guy, will have nothing to do with it and no one needs to know anything about him,” Nicky said. “I don’t even know anything about him.”

“You’re probably not even pregnant. I’ll do the lab work in a couple of weeks, and then we’ll see.”

“You doctors are all alike. You always need a test.” Nicky pressed her hands against her belly. “I can feel it.”

“If you’re pregnant, it’s too early for you to feel anything. There’s nothing going on yet.”

“Nothing?” Nicky said. “A baby is growing inside me. It started. Cells are splitting. A life is beginning. It’s incredible. My life, our lives, will never be the same, and you call that nothing?”

“What if she wants to know about her father?” Barbara said.

“It’s a little early to worry about that.”

“I could lose my job,” Barbara said. “People could try and take the baby. We’ll have to think about moving.”

“That’s the beauty of this. Everyone will stop thinking that we’re dykes, and instead, they’ll just think some guy got me pregnant and left me. We’ll be a couple of spinsters. Dykes are a threat, but spinsters are just sad. People know me here. They know my family. They like me and they’ll like my baby.”

“That’ll all change.”

“You can get pregnant next. Guys would be falling over each other to help you out with that.”

“I can’t have a baby,” Barbara said.

“I don’t mean now. After you’re done with your residency and have a practice going. You take a little time off and then go back to work because I know how you love your work. I’ll stay home with the kids. I’m going to be a great mom.”

“Let’s first see if you’re really pregnant,” Barbara said.

“I am.” Nicky yawned. “Let’s go back to bed. I need my sleep. It’s tiring being pregnant.”

*

The next morning, Nicky overslept and had to rush to work. Barbara was already gone.

“Damn,” Lucinda said when Nicky came into the kitchen.

“I’m not that late,” Nicky said, tying her apron.

“Stella says you went to DC.”

“Oh, that.”

“Went to listen to a bunch of niggers and kikes,” Stella added. She was filling napkin holders. “Tommy saw you.” Stella’s boyfriend stopped by the diner regularly when Stella was working.

Lucinda followed Nicky into the kitchen. “Is that why you needed the days off?”

“What’d he do, write down everyone’s name?” Nicky said.

“What’d you go for?” Lucinda asked.

“I went to see,” Nicky said, tying back her hair.

“What’re you going to see when King and that Malcolm get niggers all crazy and worked up so they forget their place?” Stella said.

Lucinda turned to Nicky. “Just be careful, Nicky. People like you here. Hell, I like you here.”

“If you’re done now,” Nicky said, steadying herself, “I’ve got work to do.”

Nicky was surprised by her surprise. Of course people would care. Of course people would talk. She placed a cigarette between her lips, turned the burner on, and leaned over the flame. Quickly, she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, threw it down on the floor, and squashed it under her cowboy boot. She went into the bathroom and locked the door. With both her hands on her stomach, she took some deep breaths. I can do this, she told herself several times. I can.

1964

The walk across the parking lot was enough to tire Nicky. She grabbed hold of the screen door handle and took a deep breath before entering the Bluefield Diner. The breakfast crowd had thinned, and preparation for lunch was underway. Nicky had made a habit of passing by once a week since she stopped working. Cooking had become both difficult and dangerous, and Lucinda was worried something might happen to the baby or Nicky. Her job, Lucinda promised, would be there for her after the baby.

Lucinda stepped out from behind the counter. “Let me see you, girl,” she said, taking Nicky’s hand. “You look like you’re about to have that baby any second. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ready. This is not fun anymore.”

Nicky moved to a booth where she lowered herself onto the bench.

“Selma,” Lucinda called, “bring us some coffee and some of that crumb cake.” She turned back to Nicky.

“Just some coffee,” Nicky said. She pressed out her cigarette. “I don’t have any room left for food.”

“How much longer?”

“Couple of weeks.

Selma placed the coffee and cake on the table.

“Have you decided on names?” Lucinda said.

“Still thinking.” Nicky tried some cake and wondered how much longer she could keep going over the same routine with Lucinda. Did she miss the place that much?

“Then Lucinda isn’t out yet?”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed, but I wouldn’t count on it,” Nicky said. “Anyway, I keep telling you, I think it’s a boy.” Nicky was going to go with either Paul or Paula. Folks would recognize the tribute to her father, and they would feel like they knew her baby. Paul Stewart. Paula Stewart. We know that name. We know you and your mama. We knew your grandma and grandpa. You’re from these parts. You belong here. You’re one of us.

“When you going to tell me who the father is?”

“When I want to tell the whole world,” Nicky said.

“You never told him?”

Nicky stuffed a large piece of cake into her mouth.

“Of course all that man would have to do is look at you,” Lucinda said. She shifted in her seat. “I see that George Wallace is challenging Johnson. I might have to vote Democratic for the first time in my life.”

Nicky stabbed at the cake. “The cake is good,” Nicky said.

“People have been asking for your pies.”

“I told you to let me train Leroy.”

“You haven’t heard?” Lucinda said.

“Heard what?” Nicky said.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Leroy was drunk and tried to rape Norma James.”

“Nobody rapes Norma. They just buy her a few drinks.”

“You’re talking about white boys,” Lucinda said.

“She’s always too drunk to remember what happens to her. Someone told her to say that. Leroy wouldn’t do that.” Nicky held on to her coffee cup with both hands.

“How do you know?” Lucinda asked. “He was so quiet here, but you can never tell.”

“I worked with him,” Nicky said. “You did too. You know he wouldn’t do any such thing.”

“He behaved here, but I paid him. I don’t know what he’s like outside of here. All I know is we can’t let coloreds go around raping white girls.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Don’t know. Tommy said they beat him real bad. No matter what happened, he doesn’t have a job here anymore. I don’t want any trouble here.”

Nicky pushed herself off the bench. “That was delicious,” she said. “Tired me out. I’m going to head home and rest.”

“Don’t be a stranger after you have that baby.”

Nicky began driving home and thinking about a long soak in the tub. A few blocks from the diner, she changed her mind and circled back toward the North End. Leroy wasn’t in the phone book and Nicky didn’t know his address, so she headed for the First Baptist Church. An elderly man was sweeping the steps as Nicky got out of her car.

“I’m looking for Reverend Peters,” Nicky called.

“You found him,” he said, looking up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

“Should I know you?”

“No. Maybe. I bought tickets to the King march from you. Doesn’t matter. I’m looking for someone I used to work with. Leroy Ellison. He works at the Bluefield Diner. Over by the hospital.”

“Did you try there?”

“He’s not there,” Nicky said. “They said he got badly hurt yesterday.”

“At work?”

“No. Something about getting beat up.”

Reverend Peters resumed sweeping. “How far along are you?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The baby. When are you due?” he said.

“Couple of weeks. Do you know Leroy?”

“Do you have others?” the reverend asked.

“Other children? No, this is my first.” Nicky shifted her feet; the baby was cutting off circulation to her legs. “Do you know where Leroy lives, sir? I just want to see if he needs help.”

The reverend stopped sweeping. “The thing is, Mrs.…?”

“Nicky. Nicky Stewart.”

“Mrs. Stewart, you’re pregnant. It’s not such a good idea for you to be driving around not knowing where you’re going, getting involved in things you don’t even know about. You go home to your husband and get ready for that baby.” He shifted his attention back to pushing the broom across the steps.

“Sorry to trouble you.” Nicky opened her purse and wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Reverend Peters. “If you see him, tell him I was asking after him. If there’s anything he needs, he should call me.” When she got back in her car, she started to weave her way around the unfamiliar territory of Bluefield’s North End. Even the smallest house, she noticed, had a garden, and it seemed like marigolds were in bloom everywhere. Nicky was not sure what she was looking for, only hoping something would turn up. She spotted a pool hall and pulled over. Several young boys sat outside on the porch, huddled in the shade. They followed Nicky to the door as she stepped inside. Fats Domino sang out from the radio. Nicky let her eyes adjust. The man behind the counter put down his cigar and turned off the radio. He hurried toward her. The crowd of only black men stopped their games and their chatter. All eyes turned toward her. Nicky considered turning to leave.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” He blocked the stairs leading down to the pool tables.

Nicky swallowed hard. “I’m looking for Leroy Ellison. He works over at the Bluefield Diner.”

“Did you try there?”

“Yes. He didn’t show up at work.”

“Sorry, I don’t know him.” He turned toward the first table where two men rested on their cues and watched. “Johnny, you know anyone named Leroy? He works over at…” He turned back to Nicky. “What’s that place?”

“Bluefield Diner. He’s a dishwasher.”

“I don’t know no dishwashers,” Johnny said.

“You don’t know no one who works,” someone called from the back, and several men laughed hard.

“Sorry we can’t help you,” the man in front of Nicky said, and opened the door for Nicky who didn’t move. “Watch out for those steps,” he said, still holding the door open, still trying to usher Nicky out. “They can be tricky. Can I give you a hand?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. But you be careful.”

Back in her car, Nicky caught her breath. What the hell am I doing, she thought. Driving calmed her, made her feel safe again as she continued to explore the North End. She spotted a small store and pulled in.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the white man behind the counter asked, getting up quickly and putting down his newspaper.

“Sure.” Nicky picked out some gum, some pretzels and some licorice, and a bottle of pop.

“I’m not used to white folks shopping here,” he said.

“Could I have a pack of Winstons?” she said at the counter. After Nicky took the cigarettes and lit one, she said, “You know a man named Leroy Ellison?”

“What did he do?” The man packed her purchase.

“Nothing. I used to work with him and I need to return something to him.”