Like One of the Family (6 page)

The next night my telephone started ringing and I don't have to tell you who it was…. That's right, Mrs. Lobster-Ham-Playroom herself, wanting to know could I come out on Tuesday evening. I explained how I had to work and thanked her nicely…. The phone starts ringing on Wednesday night, and I have to tell Mrs. Lobster-Ham-Playroom that I have club meetin' on Friday night…. The phone rings on Thursday and by this time, I'm tellin' one lie after another…. Oh, I made up some tale about my sister feelin' so sick that I'd have to help her out on Saturday…. Now get this, Marge! The phone rings again about a half hour later and this time Mrs. Lobster-Ham-Playroom wants to know about me comin' for Sunday dinner. I felt like something was closin' in on me and my back was flat to the wall. I closed my eyes and said, “No, thank you.” Mrs. Lobster-Ham-Playroom was quiet for a second and then she says, “Why?” … Marge, we go through an awful lot of suffering to avoid tellin' the truth and it suddenly struck me that these people were going to keep me lyin' for a long time to come, and I said real firm-like, “Because I don't care to come and would rather be doing something else.” All she said was “Well!” and then hung up on me, and again I felt free and relieved.

Go on, Marge, pour yourself some coffee…. The way I figure it, she needed somebody to dog around and show off in front of and I just wasn't goin' to be it. Right here and now

I'm tellin' you that from here on in, I'm gonna have the guts to say that blunt “no” instead of torturin' myself with a weak “yes” or a lie! Sure, life is too short and time is precious! And I ain't gonna squirm out of nothin' no more 'cause what kicks some people just bugs me and vice is versa!

I
SURE AM GLAD
we got a seat near the window, I'm that tired…. What do you mean by you thought I'd never stop walkin'? I like to sit in the back of the bus…. I certainly do, for many good reasons…. Well, the back is always less crowded, the air is better, it is also nearer to the exit door…. Why do I sound strange to you? … Marge, there is no way that you can compare ridin' in the back because you want to with ridin' there because you have to! … No indeed, I'll argue you down on that! … I've ridden both ways a whole lot so I can tell you the difference.

Well, for one thing when I walked to the back of this bus nobody was freezin' me up with stares. Have you forgotten what it feels like? All of them eyes that always have to follow you to your seat lookin' at you real mockin' like. Well, nobody pays us any mind and we didn't have to die a little on the inside because there was nothin' to this except findin' a seat. The next difference was the fact that when we took this seat it simply showed which one we had picked out and not which one was picked for us. Why don't you look around you and see who else is sittin' back here? … That's right, there's plenty of white folks too. Now, if they are from the South, it's probably the first time in their lives that
they
have had the opportunity to sit where
they
want!

… Why sure, they
can't
sit in the back down home and it seems that a lot of 'em think that's the best place to be…. No, I don't think of it in that way. Good, better or best, it's only the individual that can say which they like. Another thing, I get annoyed ridin' Jim Crow because you get a little more than just
separate seatin'
. You get rudeness, meanness and less for your money in every other way. There's been many a time when I was down home when the driver wouldn't stop when I pulled the cord, that is if I was the only one who wanted to get off, or if it was any other colored for that matter. I'd be so mad when he wouldn't let me off 'til we was four or five blocks past my stop. There's been many a time I've been left standin' with my hand held up to stop the bus and the driver would go whizzin' right on past. There's been other times when them drivers would go out of the way to splash a mud puddle on you…. Well, you know they was bein' upheld in everything they did! But the most miserable thing of all was when the back of the bus was full and the front almost empty. Yes, you'd just stand there and get madder and madder, especially when you'd be standin' by a colored mother holdin' her baby in her arms and look toward the front and see four or five white men and women ridin' along with about twenty seats between. I can tell you that although we knew it was the law, it didn't make anybody feel good to notice how the folks sittin' in the front would just go on readin' their newspapers and never even look up or feel the least bit self-conscious about us…. Oh yes, there are some places down South where the passengers are supposed to fill up from the front and the back as they come in, but I never liked that too much because if there were more colored we'd have to move back when the whites came on, and of course that was worse than bein' in the back in the first place.

… You are right, Marge, some people still think we want to sit with white people when they hear us talkin' about that Jim Crow ridin' and what they seem to forget is that there was never nothin'
equal
about those
separate
seats even though they were all on the same bus.

Watch where this white man sits when he gets back here. Well now, did you see that? He sat next to a colored man…. No, I don't think he especially wanted to or didn't want to. See how he's busy readin' his magazine? It is good to note also that the colored man never noticed him sitting beside him and went right on lookin' for his street. That's the way things
should
be—nice and easy like with no fuss or bother one way or the other. Sure, and when I feel like bein' exclusive, I take a
cab!

G
IRL
, I
WENT
all the way downtown and spent the whole afternoon buttin' around from one store to the other tryin' to find out where best to spend five dollars on Angie and her husband. I tell you, it was downright discouragin'…. Sure, there was lots of things, but Angie's got three children
and
a husband, and I was tryin' to get something that would sort of cover everybody at one blow…. No, I wouldn't get no candy because Angie's been tryin' to lose weight and that would be a mean trick to play on her since she dearly loves candy…. No, I didn't want to buy something just for the children because it seems a shame that people with children never get anything for themselves. After a while I decided to let loose of
ten
dollars, but even then nothin' was happenin' except my feet began to ache.

Finally I headed for home empty-handed and when I got out of the subway I went in the super-market to buy something for my supper. Marge, it is gettin' so that I hate to go shoppin' in the market because it turns my heart to see the women's faces…. Now, Marge, I know that I don't go in there to look at faces, but how can I help it?

Take today, for an instance, I saw a woman with two little children, and she was starin' at one of the little boxes of meat which is wrapped up in cellophane like it were a necklace or something, and her forehead was all frowned up because the tiny package of beef had a sticker on it that read one dollar and forty-seven cents and wasn't hardly enough to feed one of them children.

Well, the little ones looked at her hopefully, but she moved on and bought a piece of salt pork for fifty cents, then the poor children poked out their mouths so that the mother bought them a box of sweet biscuits. Marge, I followed her all around the store and saw her look long at the coffee and then buy a package of tea. She handled some of the fresh fruit and then bought a box of dried prunes. She stopped in front of the stringbeans and then picked out a rusty old turnip.

… Yes, Marge, I know we all have to do like that but it sure started me to thinkin' about Angie's present and I began to pick it out right then and there.

Well, first I bought her a big, beautiful sirloin steak because I know that hasn't happened to them in a long time; next I got a tin of the best kind of coffee, a box of mixed sweet biscuits and a carton of cigarettes. After I came out of the market I stopped in the five-and-dime and picked up three picture books full of puzzles, jokes, stories, cut-outs and pictures to color…. Yes, that will be for the children to go along with the biscuits. Girl, I'll bet this will be the best present Angie ever got, especially since it isn't her birthday or anything…. That's right, this present is just because they're always nice to me, and I want them to know that I think about them too.

I have also decided to give our superintendent a half a ham the next time I get some extra cash because I know he don't eat nothin' but neckbones and such on seventy-five dollars a month. When Mrs. Ames across the hall celebrates her baby's first birthday I am goin' to give her one dozen jars of that baby food she uses. On my sister's birthday I will give her a turkey which I shall roast myself, thus saving her a couple of days cookin'.

… No, I will not buy any of those glass beads and party diamonds nor will I be tricked into buyin' no sleazy, satin bedroom slippers. Since we feel we must give gifts, wouldn't it be nice if everybody's pantry shelf was full after it was all over?

… What? … Oh, that's mighty nice of you, Marge, you can just give me three pounds of coffee and five pounds of rice…. Yes, Marge, your friend Mildred would appreciate that no end. Thank you.

M
ARGE, AIN'T IT STRANGE
how the two of us get along so well? … Now you see there! Why do you have to get so sensitive? … No, I was not reflecting on your personality or making any kind of digs! … Well, if you'll give me a chance I'll try to explain what I mean…. I've known you for years and although you've got your ways … Yes, yes, I know I've got mine … but the important thing is that we go right on being friends … for example, remember the time you borrowed my best white gloves and lost them? … I know that I spilled punch on your blue satin blouse! … Now, wait a minute, girl! Are we goin' to have a big argument over how friendly we are!

I said all of that to say this. Today I worked for Mrs. M … and she is an awful nice lady when she wants to be, but she can get on my nerves something terrible…. No, I do not mean that you get on my nerves too, and if you keep pickin' up every little thing I say, I'm gonna get up and go on home…. Well, gettin' back to Mrs. M …, she can make me downright uncomfortable! … Yes, you know what I mean, she turns my workday into a real socializin' session, and her idea of socializin' is to ask me a million questions…. “What do you do after work, Mildred?” and “Do you have a lot of friends?” and “Are you married?” and “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “Do you save your money?” and “Do you like to read?” and “Do
you people
like this or that?” … By
you people
she means colored people … and I can tell you she can wear my nerve-cells pretty near the breaking point…. I know you know!

Well, at first I tried to get used to it because she is so nice in other ways … I mean like not followin' me around and dippin' into every thing I'm doing … yes, I appreciate that…. She lets me do my work, and then if anything isn't quite pleasin' to her she will tell me afterwards but it usually turns out that she's satisfied. Also I like the fact that she is not afraid of a little Work herself, and many a day we've worked side by side on jobs that was too much for me to handle all alone. Also she makes the children call me Miss Johnson…. Sure, whenever anybody has so many good ways, you hate to be pointin' out the bad ones…. But question, question, question … and it wasn't only the questions…. Honey, she could come out with the most gratin' remarks! … Honestly, she made such a point of tellin' me about how much she Eked and admired Negroes, and how sorry she felt for their plight, and what a
fine, honest, smart
, and
attractive
woman was workin' for her mother and so forth and so on and so forth until it was all I could do to keep from screamin', “All right, back up there and take it easy!”

Well, the upshot of it all was that I began to pick her up a little here and there in order to put her on the right track. For example, I'd say to her, “What's so strange about that woman being
honest
and
attractive?”
Well, Marge, she'd look so stricken and hurt and confused that I'd find myself feelin' sorry for her…. No, I didn't stop altogether but I'd let things go along a bit and then I'd have to pick her up on something again, and over a period of five or six weeks I had to jack her up several times…. Girl! all of a sudden she turned coldly polite and quiet and I can tell you that it was awful uncomfortable and strained in the house.

I guess I could have stood the strain but it began to tear me up when she'd say things like “May I suggest” and “Do you mind if I say” and “If it's all right with you.” … When I had my fill of that I came right out and asked her, “Mrs. M
…
, what is the matter, you look so grieved and talk so strange 'til I don't know what to think?” She looked at me accusingly and said, “I'm afraid to say anything to you, Mildred, It seems that every time I open my mouth something wrong comes out and you have to correct me. It makes me very nervous because the last thing I want to do is hurt your feelings. I mean well, but I guess that isn't enough. I try to do the right thing and since it keeps coming out wrong I figured I'd just keep quiet. I … I … want to get along but I don't know how.”

Marge, in that minute I understood her better and it came to my mind that she was doing her best to make me comfortable and havin' a doggone hard go of it. After all, everything she's ever been taught adds up to her being better than me in every way and on her own she had to find out that this was wrong…. That's right, she was tryin' to treat me very special because she still felt a bit superior but wanted me to know that she admired me just the same.