Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White (30 page)

Miles said he was going to get some things to make me more comfortable.
I’m glad he’s gone. I need to process.

Maybe I overreacted. Would Miles have raped me?
Rape
is a very strong
word. Miles wants to marry me. We could be married within days. Men that
marry you can’t rape you, can they?

God, what in the world is going on?

Am I in love with Nicky Parker?

I am, aren’t I?

I’m not sure. I’ve never been in love before. What does it mean if I can’t
stop thinking about him? Or if I relive kissing him over and over? And if
Miles’s kiss was totally disgusting?

The buzzer sounds. He’s come back way too soon. I hoist myself off
the ground and shuffle over to the door to buzz him in. I open the door
and wait, but it’s not Miles and his stuff that meets me. It’s Linda and
Billie.

I don’t know how I feel about this at first. I’m still a little leery of my
white brethren and sistren. But they keep showing up for me. Where is my
own family? Has anyone told Zoe or the twins? What is my mother thinking?
I think about the words of Jesus.

Who is my brother and sister and mother?

There’s Ms. Pamela and her widow’s mite. And now Miles has gone
shopping. Maybe all of this will end soon. I don’t know.

They’re carrying flowers. Linda has calla lilies. She’s wearing some bright
Mexican-looking skirt and peasant blouse and looks like a little less stylized
version of someone Diego Rivera would paint. Billie is beside her. She’s got
a bunch of Shasta daisies, in completely unnatural but wonderfully silly
rainbow colors. They hold the flowers out to me like they’re some kind of
peace offering.

“For me?”

And Billie is so blunt. “Yeah. We were hoping you don’t hate whitey
now.” Then she laughs. “Hey, do you remember that Garrett Morris skit
from
Saturday Night Live
where he’s this convict? And he did this audition or
something, he sings this song that goes—” and Billie actually starts singing,
“‘—I’m gonna get me a shotgun, and kill all the whiteys I see.’ And then they
dragged him off.” She cracks up. “Remember that?”

My mouth flies open. I know it only because I saw my father watching
a rerun and laughing hysterically, but I’m not sure I should admit finding it
funny in mixed company.

Linda turns beet red. She speaks to her compadre like she’s a small child.
“Billie. Please don’t. And I’m sure that was before Zora’s time.”

Billie waves it off. “It was funny, and it’s from a
comedy
skit. Now I can
name a few people singing that and it wouldn’t be funny. But Garrett made
it funny.”

“Billie.”

“Okay. Sorry, Zora,” she said. “We’re supposed to be reconciling, and
here I am inciting hate crimes. Can we come in?”

“Sure.” I step aside. Billie really is funny. I can’t help but find her
interesting. It’s like she missed some important social-skill-gathering phase
in her life, but her inappropriateness, even though she’s old enough to know
better, is somehow hilarious.

“I’d offer you a place to sit, but as you can see, not much has changed.”

“That’s one reason why we’re here,” Billie says. “Oh, yeah, read the cards
on your flowers.”

I slip out the first card tucked into the green tissue paper holding the
lilies. It says, “Not all whites are bad.”

I groan. “That’s cute.”

Linda smiles. “I’ve got a box of white towels and washcloths, white
pajamas, a white terry-cloth robe, a white china tea cup, and some white tea
in the car for you. And we have some other things too.”

“Now read mine,” Billie says.

I can’t imagine what hers will say. I find it tucked between an electric blue
and hot pink daisy. She kept it simple. “We love hue. Don’t leave us because
of this.”

“Richard sent you a box too. It’s in the car.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I can’t take any more surprises today. Nicky gave me more than
enough.”

Linda looks reluctant.

Billie looks bored. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just tell her.”

Linda shakes her head. “I can’t.”

Billie howls with laughter. “Richard sent us to Zingerman’s Deli for you.
We got you, like, ten different kinds of crackers. He said to tell you ‘not all
crackers leave such a bad taste in your mouth.’ And we got you some tasty
spreads, cheeses, and jams to go with the crackers.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. Boxes of crackers. I laugh so hard that I start
to choke. Billie bangs on my back until Linda says she’s going to beat me to
death, and then I can’t help myself, I start to cry. Just as quickly, Billie’s arm
draws me to her and she holds me like she was my mama.

“Aw, sweetie. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m feeling totally white-people weary right now.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Linda says. “What Nicky’s
grandfather said to you was horrible.”

“And that’s not all. Nicky ended up kissing me.”

“We heard about that, too.” Billie says, with way too much enthusiasm.
“Is he a good—”

Linda clears her throat. “You were saying Nicky kissed you.”

“And I ended up kissing him back. And I sorta lost my head because I had
never kissed anybody before. Not even my boyfriend. And …” I’m talking
too fast. I sound like a lunatic. “Are you supposed to feel numb and tingly at
the same time? Or get chills and warm—well, maybe
warmer
than warm?”

“Yeah.” Billie grins at me. Linda gives her another look.

“Anyway,” I say, “I didn’t think I should have enjoyed it so much,
considering, and then when I got home, Miles showed up.”

“Did you tell him you kissed Nicky?”

“No. Not yet. It kinda creeped me out. No offense, but Nicky is … you
know. He’s not like me. His grandfather made that clear. Should I have told
Miles?”

Billie shakes her head vigorously. “No! I don’t see any need for you to add
that drama to your life right now. Anyway, what else happened?”

“I ended up trying to make Nicky’s kiss go away. I mean, I feel kinda
guilty telling you this, but I just didn’t … I don’t know. I’m confused. It
wasn’t supposed to be Nicky giving me my first kiss. What am I supposed to
do with that?”

Billie can’t seem to help herself. “Get another one! Nicky’s a doll! Are you
nuts? And he loves Jesus. He’s a mess, but you can work with him.”

Linda seems to have the patience of Job. “Billie, Zora has to find a job
so she can keep her apartment. She really doesn’t need the complications of
adding Nicky Parker and a confusing interracial romance to her life right
now.”

“It’s always time for romance. Unless you’re married or something and it’s
just wrong, but she’s not married, and neither is he.”

Linda says, “What about Miles and Rebecca?”

“They both need to be deleted,” Billie answers.

Linda sighs deeply. “What else happened, Zora?”

“I kissed Miles. A lot. And he just doesn’t kiss the way Nicky does. And
he doesn’t … he doesn’t taste right.”

“That’s because you’re in love with Nicky now. Did you know that
biologically speaking, only the people you’re compatible with taste good to
you?”

Linda shakes her head. “Billie, can you bring something helpful and
Christlike
to this?”

She gives Linda her own annoyed glance. “This is Christlike. Jesus wants
her to dig Nicky. It’s obvious. And I’m not afraid to say so.”

“You’re not afraid to say anything, Billie.”

“This is true. Go on, baby.”

I shake my head at the two opposites. “Anyway, I got Miles all excited,
and he said he would make me feel good.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Billie says.

Linda just lays her hand on her heart.

“He started touching me all over my body. He had his hands all over my
… I feel so ashamed. I have to marry him.”

“Oh, no, baby. I don’t like him for you. You can’t marry him. He’s an a—”

“Billie,” Linda says, raising her voice without raising it.

She shoots a frustrated look at Linda, and then gives her attention back
to me. “Okay. I’m going to try not to cuss because I’m working on that, but
he’s a jerk. You know that, I’m sure. You’re smart, Zora. Your instincts have
gotta be telling you he’s not right for you.”

She releases me enough that we can have a conversation. “I know.”

She plops down effortlessly on the floor. “Sit down, baby. Let me tell you
about my man.”

This I have to hear. Linda sits down with us. She crosses her long legs
and swings her hair behind her back. She’s a crazy hippie, and I just love her
despite my misgivings about white people.

Billie starts her story with, “I was a hooker, sweetie, with a drug habit and
a bad man. I wasn’t a high-end call girl, either. I was workin’ the streets for
this idiot named Rodney, and believe me, I was a bigger idiot than Rodney if
I was workin’ for
him
.”

I look in her face. She’s beautiful. I mean, really pretty. I wondered how
long ago this was. As if she could read my mind, she told me.

“This was years ago, when I was about your age. I was twenty-three. And
I meet this guy. He’s passing out condoms and sandwiches to us girls. And he
called us ‘ladies.’ He was just plain good to us.”

I nod. What kind of guy passes out sandwiches and condoms to hookers
and means it when he calls them ladies? Her eyes light up with love and
memory.

“One night, it was freezing. Rodney didn’t make enough money that
night because it was thirty below or something crazy. Three of his girls had the
flu, and I was one of them, but they were throwing up and had high fevers.
I could still stand up. So he put me out on Woodward Avenue to do what I
did.”

I shake my head. Imagining a young, wisecracking, cussing Billie freezing
up and down Woodward.