An Elderberry Fall (5 page)

We moved from side to side to the music.

“How do you feel?” Simon asked me.

“Good, just a little nervous.”

“What's wrong?”

“I've never danced in front of anybody,” I whispered to him.

“I like how you dance.”

We swayed cheek to cheek. It was warm. Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. I was dancing for the first time alongside bankers and educators, and strangely, I was shy.

As we turned to walk back through the crowd to our seats, I noticed Pearl gazing down at us, and when I glanced up at her, she grinned. I didn't know how to act. It was a warm and cold feeling. The warmth came from seeing someone you know perform in front of an ignited crowd, with cheeks blushing with jubilation. I felt proud. The cold came from the reputation folk back home prefaced her with before speaking of her. Folk in Jefferson County were like that.

The dimly lit room was the perfect setting for the sounds she delivered. The shadows of bobbing heads reflected along the wall. After Ms. Pearl had bellowed out the final tune with a thunder of applause, she sashayed down the stairs past the sophisticated crowd and came right toward us. She got to the table so fast that when I looked up, there she stood as straight as an arrow smiling down seductively at Simon and me.

Simon hopped up. “Hi, Ms. Pearl. Won't you have a seat?”

“Hi,” I said, my eyes fixated on her oval face and flawless beauty.

“What are y'all folk doing up here, in Richmond?” she asked.

“We live here now,” Simon answered.

The folks at the table beside us peered from across the way at her as if she had more importance than Mrs. Maggie Walker. We seemed to gain some of that importance by association. Ms. Pearl knew they were watching too, because she waved cunningly at the staring man, and grinned. His wife smiled too.

“So y'all done moved away from Jefferson…that place is for old people and folk with no desires,” she jokingly said.

“We like it here,” Simon told her.

“I like it too. But it is just a stop on my way to New York City,” she stated with authority, still standing, towering over our table. As we looked up, we could see her large breasts oozing out of her dress. She was provocative, her top almost as skimpy as the young vaudeville singer everyone was talking about, Josephine Baker, who was gaining fame from dancing in shows all across the Midwest.

“We are going to be here awhile,” Simon commented.

“Richmond is nice, and I love it in Jackson Heights, but Washington is the place with all the money.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, trying to add to the conversation.

“You don't have to call me ma'am. I ain't that old.”

I smiled knowing anybody in their thirties was old to me.

“How's that baby of yours?”

“He is good; just growing so fast.”

“Does he favor his daddy?”

A frown rolled over Simon's face, and I sucked my teeth.

Simon didn't wait for me to answer her. He said, “He looks just like us.”

“Good, because that son-of a bitch didn't deserve a child.”

If he was so bad, then why did you sneak around with him? He was a married man
. The thoughts were there, but the words wouldn't come out. I held my lips tight.

“Look, I want y'all to come back to check me out. It is nice to see familiar faces in the room.”

“We'll be back,” Simon said.

As she turned to walk away, her husband, Willie, walked over to the table.

“Who is this?”

“They are from Jefferson,” she answered.

“How's everybody doing?” he asked, and shook Simon's hand first and then mine.

I had heard Ginny say he was a stunningly handsome man, and he was a big chocolate man with a beautiful smile and dark eyes. He appeared strong, but he dressed like a lot of the men from Jefferson. He was in a dark suit with shined brogan boots. It was as close as he came to being a city man. They were an attractive couple. It was unfortunate she had spent most of her time in the arms of Herman Camm, a selfish man who did not care for anyone, but himself.

“Now I want to see y'all back here soon. I am going to be performing here every Saturday night.”

“We will be back,” Simon replied.

I didn't say anything because I had hoped to get away from Ms. Pearl, Herman Camm, and all the memories of Jefferson County. Now, I was wondering if I could ever put the past behind me. Would I always run into people like Ms. Pearl?

“Let's go,” Simon said.

When we turned to walk away, I felt at ease. We left the handsome couple standing at our table. Just before we left the building I took one last look, and Ms. Pearl was already doing what she did best, titillating the crowd, leaning over the tables, smiling, and mesmerizing everybody around. Willie was not beside her anymore, but was standing off to the side watching her every move. As always, the men were hypnotized by her beauty and stature, and the women were sucking in their teeth because she'd once again stolen their husband's or boyfriend's attention. She even had that way with Simon. I was glad we were going home. She was a dangerous woman.

S
imon was already undressed and lying in between my thighs before I remembered the vinegar sponge Mrs. Hall had given me. It was my security. Getting pregnant was not an option for me, since Simon was traveling around with the Colored League, and I had decided I couldn't raise another child alone. Tonight had happened too fast. With each kiss, he inserted his tongue deeper down my throat. After that, his tongue panned over my body, landing on my heavy breasts. The sensation was so heated. When his lips touched my neck, and then my breasts and belly button, I was lost. I trembled all over with pleasure, and my body locked with intensity. His eyes fixated on my bare body, my full breasts dancing with the rhythm. And I gazed at him, staring at his beautiful body, his manhood erect and thick. He was hungry. I let him have his way with me touching and thrusting inside me, and then I rolled on top and galloped uncontrollably until he was full on me. As he placed his lips on mine, I swallowed, my memory became foggier, and it took my breath away.

I knew he'd be going away soon, and perhaps it was the reason I didn't get up early the next morning. Instead I sank myself comfortably into Simon's warm arms until Robert let out a desperate cry. After Robert was fed, he played on the pallet I'd made for him
on the floor. When Simon started putting his things together in a duffle bag, I knew he was about to leave.

“It is time, isn't it?” I asked him, watching him neatly pack his shirts and pants into the bag he'd gotten downtown.

He glanced over at me. “Why, Carrie, do you say this every time?”

“I just hate it when you leave.”

“One day it won't be like this. I'm a country boy chasing a dream.”

His comment got to me. I felt the heat on my scalp, so I locked my lips to prevent from lashing out at him. It had been three months since Simon had spent more than a few days with us.

“I'm a country girl in the city trying to raise a baby all by myself.”

“Come on now—you are not alone.”

“You are not here, Simon. The folks around here don't know me. They just help out because they feel sorry for Robert and me.”

He kept folding his clothes, but with the tightening of his face, I could see he was getting annoyed, so much so that he didn't look my way.

I continued, “I want you to stop with the Colored League. Don't anybody care about a league of colored boys traveling from place to place. White people will not come to see colored boys play.”

“I care! And, so should you.”

I had struck a nerve. Simon and I never argued about anything, but time after time, I'd pushed back tears and held my tongue when he was walking out of the door. Afterward, I felt hurt and sorry because I had not let him know my feelings. Things were about to change.

“I care. I just don't want to be here in a strange city alone.”

“All of us colored boys are gone from home. I miss you too, but you know how much I love the game. I am going to play with Pete Hill one day and some of them other colored greats.”

When the Independent Team came to Richmond, the whole Jackson Heights community went over to the park to see them play. Simon performed that day. He hit a ball over everybody's head and straight out of the field. The ball came close to hitting one of the white people standing in the road watching. I recall a man sitting behind me saying, “Now that colored boy can play some ball. He might be as good as Pete one day.” Some of the other men agreed. I stuck my chest out and an uncontrollable smile rippled across my face. Now I couldn't help myself. I wanted him home more than I wanted to see his dreams fulfilled.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“Is that all you can say, Carrie?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I was hoping you'd say you support me and understand.”

“I do.”

He stood gazing at me in disappointment, his magnetic smile completely absent from his face, and our little Robert staring at us from the pallet on the floor as if he knew something was going wrong.

“I really do understand,” I assured him. It was the same yearning I had to become a teacher. I'd wanted to teach from the very first time I stepped foot into the one-room schoolhouse in Jefferson County. I admired how Mrs. Miller stood in front of the classroom demanding we grasp the proper English language and applauding us when we learned. I so much wanted to be like her. She cared about people. Everyone in her family had been educated. If Papa had lived, I would have had a different life. I was convinced of it.

Simon read my scorched heart, and came over to me. He put his arms around me, but I couldn't do the same. I couldn't give in to his notion. “Carrie, it will get easier with time. Pretty soon you are not going to miss me this way.”

After a moment, filled with emotion, I gazed into his eyes and softened. I loosened up, and slid my arm around his waist.

“I'll be all right. I guess I have a lot to learn about being married.”

“You already know about it. It is hard for me too.”

As he reached down to pick up Robert, I couldn't help wondering if he meant it was hard because he had more responsibility with me and Robert, or that getting the leagues attention was tough. Whatever the case, I was going to be the one left alone to raise Robert. Seemed to me I was growing up too fast.

Simon always held Robert in his arms and played with him before he left. Perhaps he felt embarrassed about leaving him. Robert cooed and held tight to his shirt. At times, Simon appeared to want to say something to Robert; however, he was too young to understand. He'd stare at him—straight in the eyes. Robert would just smile. It was a stressful day for me. Two days home and Simon was back on the road.

When he and Robert went into the bedroom, I knew exactly what he was doing. As usual, he was stuffing a wad of money under my bed pillow. It was always enough to pay the rent, buy food and a little extra, which I put away in a cigar box underneath the bed for a rainy day.

When Simon was done packing and stashing money like he'd done every trip, he put Robert back on the floor and took my hand. We sat down on the soft davenport.

“Everything I do is for us.”

“I know,” I said, “just don't like to see you leave.”

“Carrie, you know I love you. So why is this so hard to deal with?”

“Because I don't want to raise Robert alone.”

“I'm with you, girl; just can't be home all the time.”

“I know, Simon,” was my only response.

Simon got up from the davenport, and again grabbed my hand. He pulled me so close my chest heaved for air. He placed his lips over mine and kissed me so deep, I could feel the moisture.

“I'll be back in a week, Carrie. Be strong. Remember we didn't come to Richmond to fail.”

He picked up his duffle bag, and moved toward the door. I walked alongside him, keeping pace with his long strides. The closer we got to the door, the harder it was to hold back the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. After he kissed me goodbye, I stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the stairs into the street. Tearfully, I sat in my large bedroom-window seat and my eyes followed his car all the way up the street and into the brush of trees and out of sight.