No Crystal Stair (5 page)

“Oh, I didn't say I wouldn't marry him. Just that I can't stand him. A girl would be a fool to turn him down. But take my word for it—he ain't the marrying kind.”

All eyes swung to Ann Elizabeth. She looked up and smiled.

“Hey,” she asked, “is anybody going to eat this other hot dog?”

June 1942

 

T
he debutante ball was held on the Roof Garden of the Odd Fellows Building, an impressive ten-story structure housing the offices of many black professionals. It was located on Auburn Avenue.

Auburn Avenue was across town, but as familiar to Ann Elizabeth as the West Side neighborhood in which she lived. How many times had she traversed the marble foyer of the Odd Fellows Building and mounted the marble steps or boarded the rickety old elevator to her father's office on the third floor? She'd run up and down the hall to visit and receive candy and gifts from the secretaries of other professionals. She'd enjoyed the soda fountain in Yates and Milton's drugstore on the corner of Butler and Auburn, stepped across the street to the Citizen's Trust Bank to make deposits for her father, learned to swim at the Colored YMCA, the neat little building where her father often played bridge with his cronies. She had dined at Mrs. Sutton's Café farther up Auburn and been sent flowers from Sanson's Florist shop. The Herndon Building, another site that housed Negro professionals, was across the street from the Odd Fellows. It was named after Norris Herndon, a family friend of the Carters. Ann Elizabeth seldom had occasion to visit the place, but in the next block stood the shiny new sandstone structure of the Negro Atlanta Life Insurance company, founded by Herndon, where Ann Elizabeth had once had a summer job. Nearby was the office of Atlanta's Negro daily newspaper, the
Atlanta World.
On the corner was Big Bethel, the imposing edifice that housed the largest colored Baptist congregation in Atlanta. She had spent many hours in Bailey's Royal Theater, the only white-owned business in the area that catered exclusively to colored. Farther up Auburn at the colored branch of the Carnegie Library she had immersed herself in
The Five Little Peppers
,
the Secret Garden
and many other children's books. On her way to the library Ann Elizabeth passed Ebenezer, another Baptist church, not as large as Big Bethel, where the Reverend Martin Luther King Sr. preached the gospel.

This was Sweet Auburn, the center of Atlanta's bustling black business district, on a Saturday night in late June 1942. Prominent Atlanta Negroes in formal attire took the elevator to the top floor and climbed the few remaining steps to the Odd Fellows Roof Garden for the debut.

Debut. Beginning. But this was no beginning. Ann Elizabeth thought. More like an end. An end to nineteen years of organized girlhood. The debutantes, all twelve of them, had been just out of the toddler stage when their mothers organized the Doll Club. Carefully selected girls from families of similar backgrounds, they had come to those first meetings clutching their mother's hands and dragging their porcelain dolls with blond curls. They ate cookies and sipped chocolate from tiny china cups until they tired of playing ladies. Then the dolls lay abandoned while their owners rollicked in games of hopscotch, jump rope and hide-and-seek. In high school they called themselves the Sophisticated Ladies and played bridge at their meetings, and danced to popular record music with specially chosen young males at Saturday-night socials under the watchful eyes of chaperoning parents. Now they were debutantes and this was their debut.

The Roof Garden, usually quite bare, really looked like a garden this evening, with branches of flowering dogwood and
banks of flowers. The hors d'oeuvres table featured a centerpiece of summer blooms, set under the flickering light of tapered candles. In one corner two younger girls presided over a crystal punch bowl and a couple of waiters served champagne. The debutantes, looking like a rainbow in their different-colored formal gowns, stood in line from five-thirty to seven to be presented to people they had known all their lives.

Helen Rose, in a green crepe-de-chine dress that cleverly camouflaged her plump figure, surreptitiously slipped her foot out of the green satin pump and whispered to Ann Elizabeth, “How long, dear Lord? How long?”

Ann Elizabeth glanced at the tiny watch on her wrist. “Take heart, fellow sufferer. Only twenty minutes more.” Then she stretched out a white-gloved hand to Colonel Dalton. “How nice to see you. I'm glad you could come.” Had he really been a colonel? she wondered. An honorary title because he was lawyer? A trick to confuse those who would never address him as Mr.? Funny, she hadn't thought of that before.

The receiving line was thinning out now. People were gathering in small groups to talk and sip their champagne. The band had arrived and instruments were being set up. The dancing was to begin at seven.

“There's Randy!” Helen Rose said.

“Oh, good. I was starting to worry that he wouldn't get here.” Ann Elizabeth looked toward the door. Randy, his drab green officer's coat standing out against the black tuxedos, was bending over his mother.

“He's so handsome.”Millie, on Ann Elizabeth's left, had also noticed his arrival.

“Yes . . . He's changed.”This was the first time Ann Elizabeth had seen him in his officer's uniform. He
had
changed. From clowning carefree Randy into a serious second lieutenant, William Randolph Carter, Jr., pilot, U.S. Army Air corps. A tug of sadness pulled on the pride. Something else was ending.

Another man, similarly clad, was with Randy, his eyes sweeping the room curiously as he waited to be presented to her parents. Ann Elizabeth saw her mother, elegant in pink chiffon, greet Randy's friend. Nudged by Helen Rose, Ann Elizabeth turned her attention to a late-arriving Mrs. Jamison. The lady oohed and aahed for several minutes, reminiscing about the time Ann Elizabeth had danced for her women's club

“Such a darling tiny ballerina in those pink tights and pink ballet shoes. My, my, how the years do fly!”

So Ann Elizabeth missed the progress of her brother and his friend along the line of debutantes. She was rather startled when the officer appeared before her. Randy gave her a hug and told her she looked very pretty. Then he turned to his friend.

“Robert Metcalf, meet my sister, Ann Elizabeth.”

So Ann Elizabeth missed the progress of her brother and his friend along the line of debutantes. She was rather startled when the officer appeared before her. Randy gave her a hug and told her she looked pretty. Then he turned to his friend.

“Robert Metcalf. Meet my sister, Ann Elizabeth.”

Ann Elizabeth glanced up—and up. He was slender but she was aware of taut muscles under the uniform. It was the face that held her—smooth chocolate-brown, as dark as her father's. His nose was straight, his hair black and close-cropped. He was smiling at her and his teeth were remarkably white against his dark skin. It was a strong face, she decided. But when he smiled dimples in both cheeks recast the face in a boyish mold. He bent toward her with an athlete's easy grace, and she wasn't sure whether his quizzical smile was admiring or mocking.

She stood mesmerized, able only to utter the same words she'd been repeating all evening. “How nice to see you. I'm so glad you could come.”

For some reason this made him laugh, a hearty uninhibited laugh.

“Didn't I tell you?” Randy asked.

“You did. You did. You were right.”The mocking yet admiring eyes still held hers.

She wanted to ask him what he'd been told. But then she saw Dan coming across the floor to claim her for the first dance which was for the debutantes and their escorts only. Dan exchanged warm greetings with Randy and his friend. Then, as the music started, he placed a possessive hand at Ann Elizabeth's waist

“Our dance. Please excuse us. We'll talk later, Randy.” Dan nodded to the two men and led Ann Elizabeth onto the dance floor.

She felt the stranger's gaze following her. She was glad that her lilac chiffon gown was so flattering to her figure, clinging to the knees, then cascading in full accordion pleats that swirled around her high-heeled sandals as they kept pace with the tempo of the music.

 

 

Another pair of eyes watched Randy's progress across the floor. Sadie Clayton held her breath. Of course he'd go to his sister first. But then... would he seek her out? Would he even know she was here?

Maybe I
shouldn' t
be here, she thought uneasily as she watched him, laughing and talking, so much at ease with them—those “high-yellow gals with white folks' hair.”

She straightened. Of course she should be here. She'd received an invitation followed by a phone call from Ann Elizabeth. “Be sure to come. It's going to be fun. And,” she'd added enticingly, “Randy's going to try to make it.”

Randy. Once he had called her beautiful. A long time ago, but she'd never forgotten it. In her whole life, no one else had called her beautiful. Not her, with the kinky hair and very dark skin.

It wouldn't be so bad being a Negro, she told herself, if Negroes, like white folks, were mostly all the same color and had the same kind of hair. And if she wasn't the darkest anybody could get, shunned by both races. The guys all wanted girls with light skin and good hair. Downtown it was the high-yellow girls who got the best jobs—waiting tables at the tearooms or running the elevators. Only job she could get was cleaning rest rooms.

Not anymore! With a proud lift of her head she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She was now a professional—a registered nurse. Thanks to Mrs. Washington, she thought with a touch of bitterness. Randy's snooty mother had done it not for her, but to get her out of his reach. The plan had worked. While she emptied bedpans, Randy went on to college, frat dances and other women.

The flicker of pride diminished. Something painful caught in her throat as she saw Randy bend toward Millie Thompson and playfully tug one of her curls.

Okay. She hadn't come to see Randy. It was for Ann Elizabeth that she'd trudged through the streets alone in her long dress.

Ann Elizabeth. The first day at Washington High, when she walked in straight from her highfalutin private school with her smart clothes and prissy manner, everybody in their home room was all set to give her a hard time. Thing was, she didn't know it. Just kept acting like she was queen of the May, so sweet and polite, asking the way to the lab, borrowing and lending. “Need a pencil? Here's one.” Couldn't help but like her, though Sadie didn't really get to know her ‘til the next year, when they had to share a locker. They'd been standing in the hall by their locker that day... Like a hot tide, the memory flooded through Sadie, shutting out the people around her, taking her back.

Randy. Blue slacks. Heavy blue sweater with the big white W emblazoned on it. Randy, tall and handsome with that
one-sided grin, his blue eyes inspecting her, speaking to Ann Elizabeth. “Sister dear, who is this little back beauty?”

His words had cut like a whip and she'd spun away. She remembered as if it were yesterday how she'd run along the hall, down the steps, out of the school building. She was on the street before she'd realized that his long legs were keeping pace. He didn't say anything until they'd passed the throng of students.

“Hey, what's wrong? What's your hurry?”

She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat. She rushed on, eyes blurring

“Just wait a cotton-pickin' minute.” He stepped in front of her. She tried to step aside. He blocked her way. Every time. Laughing. Like it was some kind of game. “What's wrong? What did I do?”

“You know damn well what you did.? And you've got no right calling me names. You're a nigger, too. And funny-looking. Those blue eyes don't match your black face!”

“Touché! You hurt my feelings.” But he didn't seem hurt. He was laughing.

“Well, you look funny as hell.” She spit it out,
wanting
to hurt him.

“And you've got a chip on your shoulder as big as a brick.”

“Get out of my way.” She tried to move on, but the blocking continued.

“Hey, wait! Why are you so mad? I didn't call you names.”

“You did so. You said I was black.”

“You are black.”

“You didn't have to say so.”

“And you're beautiful.”

That stopped her cold. What had he said?

He seemed to be studying her. “Black as coal. Smooth. Lovely.”

She stared at him, trying to untangle his words. Was he making fun of her?

He bent toward her. “Don't you know how beautiful you are?”

She stepped back. Gulped. No one had ever called her beautiful. Not ever. Not in her whole life.

He touched her cheek. “So smooth and even. I love the color of you. What's your name pretty lady?'

Barely audible she managed a weak ‘Sadie.” At the same time she was sifting his words, still wondering. Beautiful.
Was
he making fun of her?

“Well, come along, Sadie. I'll walk you home.”

That was the beginning. He had walked her home many times after that, even after he'd graduated and started college. Never minded if her mama had the ironing board up in the living room. Always polite to her papa, even if he was barefoot and in his undershirt. He was the only boyfriend she'd ever had. The only person who had ever called her beautiful.

Sadie sighed. They'd gone their separate ways and she'd seen him maybe twice in the past two years. But...

Yes, she confessed. She had come hoping to see him. She leaned down to touch the skirt of the turquoise dress that had cost her a fortune. Randy had taught her to wear color... “Why do you always stick to black or dark brown?” he'd asked. “You need color!” She hadn't believed him until he bought that pale blue scarf for her one Christmas, wrapped it around her throat.

“See how it brings out the radiance of your complexion!'

No one had ever called her complexion radiant.

“Here you are! Why are you hiding off in a corner by yourself?”

Randy! She'd been so immersed in her thoughts that she hadn't seen his approach. “I'm not hiding, I was just... just...” Speech failed in the whirlwind of emotions engulfing her. Joy set her heart pounding, her pulse racing. Randy. So handsome in his officer's uniform. Blue eyes so striking against his dark
skin. Looking down at her with that lopsided grin. Exultation. He had sought her out.