Apron Strings (11 page)

Plumb worn out, I fell asleep on the cot in the storeroom back of the kitchen without even botherin’ to take off my filthy clothes. Miz Pansy shook me awake a few hours later. “Git on outta here, girl, I need to git off these feet. You best be gettin’ on home. I ‘spect they gon’ need you. Tell yo’ sister Roberta git on up here, an’ you stay wit’ yo’ mama, hear?” I nodded. “Well then, move.”

If I live forever, I don’t expect I’ll forget the dreadful sight at home. The room smelled of burned meat and blood. Mama looked a hundred and ten. Cy was lyin’ in the middle of the room on a board held up by two sawhorses, his leg still bleedin’. There was no mistakin’ that he was dyin’, and Mama, by her look, weren’t far behind ‘im. Wilson, my sister Alberta said, had only just passed out from exhaustion. “Thank the Lord, too,” she said. “He ‘bout drove us all mad with his carryin’ on.” Then she added, a little more softly, “Poor soul lost his father and most likely Cy, too.” She shook her head slowly back and forth.

“Miz Pansy say Ro best be gettin’ up to the big house. They gon’ need her ‘fore long,”

“Hmmph, we ain’t no slaves! They jest gon’ have to do wit’out,” Roberta sniffed.

Alberta said, “We don’ need to be runnin’ ‘round all the time fo’ them, no way.”

Roberta’s face darkened like the sky befo’ a storm. She nodded toward Cy. “You see this? Po’ boy don’ even rate no aspirin, and we s’posed to keep slavin’ for them? Ya’ll heard ‘em, ‘Here boy, bite down on this stick, we gonna take yo’ leg off.’” She shook her head again, and her eyes lingered on Cy.

“Ro,” I said, “you know good as me he was out cold when they cut off dat leg. Stop all the time lookin’ at what you ain’t got.”

“I tell you what
you
ain’t got,” Alberta started in. “You ain’t got the sense of a canary, and po’ Mama ain’t got no sleep and she ‘bout worn out. She won’ let nobody do nothin’ for ‘im, like she can keep the po’ soul livin’ on the strength of her will.
That
’s what you got, Ethel, but you ain’t gonna have Mama or that boy, neither one, if we don’ do somethin’ for Mama quick.”

“Ro, go on up to the big house,” I said. “Find the doctor or Miz Bess and axe ‘em if we can have one a ‘em powders they give Miz Ginny. I’ll see if I ken talk some sense into Mama while you gone.” Roberta took off at a dead run.

“Mama,” I said. “You got to try to rest.” She wouldn’ even look at me. Roberta was back in no time. “Miz Pansy was in the kitchen lookin’ dead on her feet when I gots there. I told her I needed one a ‘em powders like the doctor give Miz Ginny for Mama. She reached in her apron pocket and pulled out two packets and tol’ me to put it in some warm water. She say, ‘Tell Miz Bertha I say drink this, and if’n she don’t listen, ya’ll tell her I’m comin’ down there my own self and makin’ her.’ Den she say, ‘I best be gettin’ back up ta da house cuz Miz Bess can hardly stand up herself.’”

It would’ve been easier to dose a mule than it was ta get Mama to take the powders Miz Pansy sent. Poor Cy died afore we could get anything down her. By then she was so spent she just laid her head down on that boy’s chest and cried herself to sleep. Alberta took the sedatives and fell asleep soon as she stretched out. I tried my best to clean the place up a bit. Sam was laid out in the bedroom, so after a while I laid down on the floor next to Alberta and tried to rest.

The Stuart boys come back from camp, and with all the runnin’ and fetchin’ I had to do for them boys and Miz Bess, I didn’t see Miz Ginny. Mista Gus didn’t last a month before he was gone, too. I caught sight of Miz Ginny at the funeral. Then, at the end of the summer, she was sent off—along with her brothers—to a boardin’ school up north, just like Miz Bess always wanted.

Things changed right smart after that. Mista Gus had been up to his eyeballs in debt, and when the Depression hit Miz Bess didn’t have any choice but to sell off most of the farm. She rented out the Annex so the two older boys could go to the university, and let go all the help but Mama, who she kept on part-time since Miz Bess was livin’ in an apartment in town. I heard Miz Ginny got a job at a shop in town and Mista Dennis disappeared after he left school. I went back to work for Miz Dupree at the boardin’ house. I didn’t hear much about Miz Ginny or
her family except on the rare occasion when Mama would say somethin’ she thought might interest me.

I stopped thinkin’ about Cy and Miz Ginny and all that mess, and life seemed normal again; workin’ and relaxin’ with my sisters. Roberta, Alberta, and me use’ to love to dance. Roberta was always goin’ out with her boyfriends to juke joints and dances all ‘round town. When we was together she’d teach us the latest steps she and Luther, or some other fool she hauled ‘round by the nose, had come up with. Roberta was some kind of dancin’ trick, and she loved nothin’ more than to show off her moves. But it would have been easier to herd cats than for Alberta to get her legs and arms under any kind of control. What she lacked in rhythm she made up in frenzy. Roberta had more music in her toenail than Alberta did all together. The thing about Alberta, though, she didn’t give a hoot what nobody thought, long as she was havin’ some fun; and she did have some fun. Roberta would show us a step and Alberta would mimic her ‘bout as well as a worm mimics a racehorse. It was comical. Thank the Lord I took after Roberta in the dancin’ department. I truly loved to dance.

Just after Early and me took up with each other, we was at a juke joint down near the river. We’d been dancin’ up a storm. The fact that Early liked to dance like I did was probably what put the icin’ on the cake. That man could tear a rug
up
. After a while people stopped dancin’ just to look. They was standin’ ‘round, tappin’ their toes, and clappin’ in time to the music. Early and me was dancin’ the “black bottom.” If you have any little bit of competition in yo’ blood, the black bottom could wear you out. Early was feeling no pain and it made him bold. He’d dance a phrase, then slap himself on the hind parts and stamp and clap while I danced the same one. Then I’d do a new one of my own, tryin’ to outdo his. The place was goin’ wild as Early and me hopped, jumped, and gyrated all
over
that dance floor. When the music finally stopped, I had to get me some air.

Early went to fix us a drink and I stepped outside in the cool night air. People was pourin’ out of the place, pattin’ me on the back and tellin’ me what a fine job I’d done. They said they ain’t never seen any couple dance as good as me and Early. As the crowd thinned out, I noticed a
white couple standin’ over in the shadows. The girl took after somebody but I couldn’t think who.

“Ethel, that was wonderful!” The girl clapped her hands together and gave a little hop as she stepped up closer to me. Her friend hovered a little ways behind. “I had no idea that you could dance like that!” she said.

“Miz Ginny? Is dat you?” I asked. “Lord, I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t said somethin’. Look at how you done growed.”

“Golly, Ethel, you’d think you were Mother’s age the way you go on. There can’t be much difference in our ages.”

“I ‘spect not. What ya’ll doin’ here? I bet Miz Bess don’t know.”

“And Bertha knows you’re here?” She laughed and twirled around. Miz Ginny looked happy, and I was glad for that knowin’ that the Stuarts had fallen on such hard times. “Ethel, I would love to be able to dance like that,” she said. “Would you teach me?”

“Miz Ginny, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. All I know is when the music starts, I can’t keep my feets still. But Roberta, now, she be a mighty fine teacher. She done taught me near all I know ‘bout dancin’, and most other thangs besides.”

“Come on, Ethel, I bet you could.”

Now, I ain’t never been able to say no to Miz Ginny. We had us a date to meet at Miz Bess’s apartment that next Wednesday while Miz Bess was at her garden club meetin’.

“Make sure Miz Bess ain’t gonna be there. I ain’t even gonna try to imagine what kinda mad she’d be if she walked in and seen me teachin’ you dis here jive.” Miz Ginny giggled as she waved goodbye.

“Can’t wait until Wednesday,” she called as she and her beau disappeared into the night.

Outta nowhere that delivery boy CL come down the path. I don’t know if he’d been sneakin’ after Miz Ginny or sneakin’ after me. He bumped right up against me jest after Miz Ginny left. With a curled lip he snarled, “Makin’ sure that ol’ bitch ain’t home so’s ya’ll can steal her blind, I ‘spect. Girl, you…” I turned tail and walked away like he weren’t even there though I felt like somebody done walked on my grave..

Wednesday arrived soon enough. As I was comin’ through the kitchen of Miz Bess’s place, I ran straight into Mama.

“What yo’ doin’ here, girl?” she asked.

I hemmed and hawed and hemmed some more until Miz Ginny come into the kitchen. “Oh Lord, what are you doin’ here, Bertha?” she asked.

“Well now, I’s jest ‘bout ta ask you what you was up to when dis here fool rounded the corner,” Mama said, pointin’ to me. Then she gave us both a good hard stare.

“I didn’t know you worked for Mother on Wednesdays,” Miz Ginny said, ignorin’ Mama’s question.

“Has been fo’ da last three years,” she said flatly. “I know it ain’t none of my bid’ness what you be up ta, but dis here girl is mine, so I’s gonna axe agin. What ya’ll got cooked up?”

“Ethel is going to teach me how to do the black bottom,” Miz Ginny said, like we was goin’ to study Bible verses.

“Now, dis I gotta see,” Mama said, and she followed as we made our way into the sittin’ room. Miz Ginny had an old Victrola set up in the sittin’ room and all the furniture pushed up against the walls. She had a Bessie Smith record that both Mama and me had a giggle over later.

Miz Ginny was a good deal better at pickin’ up the dance moves than I thought she’d be. She was passable at copyin’ me, but she couldn’t, to save her life, do a move of her own. Mama sat cacklin’ at us as we slapped our bottoms and hopped back and forth. I was tryin’ to show Miz Ginny how to shimmy and both she and Mama ‘bout fell out.

Mama said, “Honey, yo’ ain’t got nothin’ to shimmy, and if Ethel gets ta shimmyin’ much more, she might loose control of dem girls! Lord have mercy, where would we be then?”

Miz Ginny looked down at her little flat chest and then at my great big breasts going ever’ which way, and she couldn’t stop laughin’. Mama and me laughed about that dance lesson for years. And when we got through laughin’ at what did happen, we’d start up again thinkin’ on what would’ve happened if Miz Bess had come home.

After that Wednesday, a good few years passed before I heard anythin’ at all about the Stuarts. Mista Jimmy did his level best to help out his mama. He went to North Carolina to sell her beach house and came back later with a fortune he had made in real estate, a wife, and a new name. He had grown from Mista Jimmy to Mista James.

After that, Miz Bess moved back to the Annex and Mama was hired again full time. I helped her fix Thanksgivin’ dinner for the entire family; except Mista Dennis. Nobody had heard word one from him in eight years. Fact was, the family was feelin’ rent apart in all directions, and it was hard to be thankful in those days. It had been a rough time for all of us.

I liked Mista Joe the minute I laid eyes on him. Tall, blond, and good-lookin’, he could have passed for one of Miz Bess’s own children. He had a real easy way ‘bout him. He even could make Miz Bess laugh. All the years I’d known her I could count on one hand the times I heard Miz Bess laugh. Mama noticed, too.

Miz Ginny didn’t seem to pay Mista Joe much mind at Thanksgivin’ dinner; or so much as say a peep to anybody else, for that matter. She didn’t even look at me as I passed the potatoes and vegetables. As far as I could tell, Mista Joe was just one of Mista Gordon’s school friends and that was all there was to it. But anyone could see he was already head over heels crazy ‘bout Miz Ginny. He made sure to sit next to her every chance he got. And even if they wasn’t talkin’, he was cuttin’ looks her way.

Mista Joe didn’t have any sense at all how thangs was done. When I was servin’ round, he talked to me like I was sittin’, eatin’ with the family.

“Hi, I’m Joe,” he said, takin’ the bowl instead of allowin’ me to serve him. He stuck out his hand to shake. “What’s your name?” It made me so nervous, I liked to have dropped the bowl when he handed it back. When I didn’t take his hand, he put it back in his lap. Round the table I saw every fork stopped somewhere between a plate and a mouth. They was slack-jawed, starin’ at Mista Joe like he’d sprouted horns right smack in front of them.

“Ethel,” I croaked. I moved on fast as I could.

After dinner Mista Joe came out in the kitchen to thank Mama and me just as we was havin’ a little taste of the leftover wine. Quick as a jackrabbit, I dumped mine in the sink and acted like I was washin’ up.

“Hi, I understand you’re Bertha,” he said to Mama, holdin’ out his hand. “I’m Joe Mackey. That was the best Thanksgiving dinner I have ever
had. Thank you so much. My mother isn’t much of a cook, and I don’t know when I’ve had so much good food.” He took Mama’s hand and shook it. She stood there lookin’ at him, dumb as a post. Turning to me, he said, “Thank you, too, Ethel. I’m sorry I embarrassed you out there. I didn’t know. I didn’t grow up with servants.” I kept both my hands in the sink so he wouldn’t take hold of one of ‘em and shake it like he did Mama’s.

Mista Gordon called from the door, “Come on, Joe. We gotta get back.”

As he left, Mista Joe turned back to us and waved. “I hope to see you both again soon, ladies.” Then he said to Mista Gordon, “I can’t go yet. I haven’t had a minute to woo that beautiful sister of yours.” They both laughed and disappeared behind the swinging door.

After the first of the year, I saw Mista Joe on my way home from work. He was walkin’ down the street toward the boardin’ house where I used to work. He looked like he was lookin’ for somethin’. I wasn’t too surprised to see him since lots of university students lived in the boardin’ house; that was, until he spoke to me.

“Oh good, Ethel, I thought I was going to miss you again,” he said.

I stood there looking at him like he was from the moon. Finally I blurted out, “Why you lookin’ fo’ me? I ain’t done nothing!”