Have No Shame (12 page)

Maggie didn’t ask me why I was cryin’, she didn’t try to fix what was wrong. She honored my sadness with patience, allowin’ me to lie against her beatin’ heart until my eyes were red and swollen, with no more tears to shed.

By mid-afternoon, Mama was already wrist deep in apple peels. The kitchen was alive with the aroma of cinnamon and baked apples. It was Wednesday and Jackson would be returnin’ to his military service on Friday. I needed somethin’ to keep my mind off of him leavin’. Three days had passed since Maggie returned to New York with promises of weekly letters and bein’ home before the weddin’. And it had been exactly four days since I’d seen Jackson. I just couldn’t muster the courage to sneak out after what I’d witnessed between Daddy and Maggie. My heart pulled and fought me to see Jackson again, and I cringed with sadness every time I thought of him lookin’ for my library books on the porch. He must hate me by now, I was sure of it. But after the rift between Maggie and Daddy became a fissure that I wasn’t sure would ever close, I knew I wasn’t ready to take a stance and chase away my Daddy’s love to be with Jackson.

Mama focused on the apple she was slicin’. She sighed, long and low.

I pretended not to notice, figurin’ she’d tell me what was wrong when she was good ‘n ready.

She finished corin’ and slicin’ the last apple, then removed the first batch of baked apples from the oven. I mixed the brown sugar, cinnamon, and honey in a big bowl, dippin’ my finger in for a taste of the sweet nectar before addin’ the butter.

While Mama mixed the apples and the sauce together, I leaned against the counter, lickin’ my fingers and wonderin’ what I could do to mend Maggie and Daddy’s relationship.

“Honey, wash your hands, please.”

I turned on the water and glanced out the window over the sink. Albert had come back to work, although he wasn’t workin’ in the fields yet. He and Daddy stood by the barn. My father pointed to the tractor, and I looked in that direction, catchin’ sight of Jackson comin’ in from the furthest field alongside several other colored men, their arms heavy with containers of DDT, their faces glistenin’ with sweat. Smiles lifted their lips as they chatted back and forth, throwin’ a rag like a ball between them. They stopped their playful banter as they neared the barn.

“Mama, shouldn’t we bring those boys some lemonade?” Seein’ Jackson opened the door to my heart that I’d closed out of fear.

“Your father has water for them.”

“But, couldn’t we bring them lemonade? On a day like today it might be more refreshin’.” I eyed the bowl of lemons on our counter.

Mama put her hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s probably best if we don’t.”

I spun around and asked her why.

For a long time she just looked at me, measurin’ her response. “Well, when you were younger, your father didn’t want you takin’ them anything, because he worried for your safety; but I think if we do it together, it’d probably be just fine.”

I made quick work of cuttin’ and squeezin’ lemons into several pitchers of ice water, dousin’ them with sugar, and makin’ sure the end result was sweet and refreshin’. We put the pitchers on trays and carried them outside just in time to greet the men as their day came to an end.

I didn’t trust myself bein’ too near Jackson for fear of blushin’. I knew Mama would see the desire in my eyes. Fifteen young colored men grabbed glasses of lemonade. I was too young to be called ma’am, and yet these men, some just about my age, with fatigue in their eyes and sweat on their brows, treated me as if they knew the place Daddy had spoken of so often—my
place
.

Some of the men were as slim as the day was long, holdin’ their glasses out for more of the cool drink. Their long arms bubbled with baseball-sized muscles. They gulped down a full glass worth in one swallow and set their glass back on the tray with a sincere measure of gratitude.

Jackson stayed a respectable distance from me, acceptin’ a glass from Mama’s tray with a generous thank you. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were cold and distant, locked on the fields beyond the house.
Our fields
, as I’d come to think of them. I swatted at a bug, awkwardness graspin’ at my movements.
What had I done?
Four days was too long. I hadn’t talked to Jackson since we’d made love, and now I worried that I’d never have a chance.

I coughed, played with my hair, spoke too loudly, and still he didn’t look over. I told myself that Jackson would never take a chance of bein’ caught eyein’ me, then worried that he hadn’t wanted to. There was no secret smile, no symbolic gesture, and the absence of even the smallest acknowledgment hurt like a paper cut, swift and deep. Today, my books were goin’ on the rockin’ chair.

As soon as the house was silent, I tiptoed to my parents’ room and peeked in. They lay still, Daddy’s arm arced over his head, the other across his stomach. Mama slept with her back to him. I made my way silently downstairs and out the back door. As soon as the night air hit my lungs, any hesitation I’d felt the days before turned to determination. I might not be ready to give up Daddy’s love, but the hurt I felt that afternoon when Jackson shunned me made me realize that I wasn’t ready to give him up, either.

The rows of plantin’s were thick and soft beneath my feet as I ran toward the creek. When I finally reached the end of the field’s grasp, I saw Jackson sittin’ on a rock beside the water, his back to me and his strong frame hunched forward. I ran to him, brushin’ his shoulder. He flinched beneath my touch.

“Hi,” I said, out of breath.

He nodded. He didn’t move toward me, he didn’t reach for my hand.

I crouched before him and touched his knee. “Hey, you okay?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “I missed you.”

He nodded again, then sat up tall. “I’m leavin’ tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s only Thursday. I thought you were leavin’ Friday.” It was too soon.
One day
. One day wasn’t enough.

He shrugged. “Tomorrow, Friday, what’s the difference?”

“A day. A full twenty-four hours.”

He stood and crossed his arms. “Right, and what’s the big deal about that?”

I shook my head. “What do you mean? Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Me?” he raised his voice. “Yes, I want to be with you, but you’ve made it clear how you feel. I haven’t heard from you in days.”

My stomach tightened. I touched his arm, desire warmin’ my throat. “I’m sorry.” It was the truth, I was sorry. “I couldn’t get away.”
I’m too weak.

“I’m sorry? Is that all it takes for you? Well I don’t know how you treat Jimmy Lee, but that’s not enough. We…” He lowered his voice and pulled his shoulders back, like he was recoverin’ from sayin’ Jimmy Lee’s name and bringin’ him into our conversation. “We were close, and then you disappeared. How do you think that made me feel? I look at your porch everyday, hopin’ your books are there, and everyday I’m shut down like a used-up mule.”

Hearin’ him say Jimmy Lee’s name was strange. I hadn’t thought about Jimmy Lee in days. I was too busy worryin’ about how to keep my family together, and the steps I needed to take to protect myself from losin’ them.

“I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I’ve been confused.”

“Yeah, well you’ll have four months to get unconfused, because that’s how long I’m gonna be gone, and when I’m out of the service, I’m goin’ straight to New York.”

“Wait, I thought we were goin’ to New York together?” I heard the falseness of my words as they left my lips. I wouldn’t run away with him and leave my family behind. I couldn’t.

He touched my arm, then, and said softly, “Alison, you’re not goin’ anywhere. You’re one of them. What we had—”

Hot tears fell down my cheeks. He wiped them away, and I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips. I kissed his palm, then rested my cheek on it. “I love you.”

“Maybe, but if this is how you love, it’s not enough for me. I’ve been oppressed my whole life, held back by the ropes of color. I want to love for real. I want to know that whoever loves me will love me regardless of my color, regardless of what others think, and you can’t do that, not here.”

“I could lose my family.”

“I know.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I grabbed his waist and held on. His words were true, but they didn’t stop the ache in my heart. The cool night air stung my lungs as I sucked in a deep breath, hopin’ to dislodge the lump from my throat. “I can do it. I do love you.”

“I know you do, but I watched you these last few days, avoidin’ the fields, avoidin’ me. I couldn’t think past your name, Alison. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. It’s killin’ me.”

Our bodies trembled, mine from the fear of bein’ without him, and his, I was sure, from the truth his words carried.

“No,” I cried, shakin’ my head and pullin’ away. “I want to be with you. Maybe I can do this.”

“Alison, you’re gettin’ married in a few weeks.
Maybe
means you can’t do this.”

“No,” I cried. “Be with me, I’ll show you. One more time, before you leave?”

He shook his head. “You’re not mine. You never will be.”

“It hurts too much. I want to be.” I wiped my eyes with my arm. “Will you write me? Through Albert? We can find a way, like my mama does with your mama?”

Again, he shook his head. I dropped to my knees, the harsh sting of rejection stealin’ my strength. “I just made a mistake. I should’ve given you a message. I should’ve met you. I’m sorry. I was afraid. My sister had a fight with Daddy, and I was afraid he’d tell me to leave, too, if he found out.”

“You’re right. He would have, and I would never forgive myself if he did. I love you. I will always love you. But I won’t steal you from another man, and I won’t be your hidden lover.” He came down on his knees. His lips met mine, soft and delicious.

When our lips parted, my eyes remained closed. I knew that the moment I opened them what we had would be forever changed.

“I don’t blame you one bit,” he whispered.

I opened my eyes and saw tears in his.

“Maybe I’ll see you when I visit Maggie?” I knew it would never happen.

“Maybe,” he said. He held my hand and we sat there, on the side of the creek, the tricklin’ water movin’ by like the past few days, sure and steady.

I touched his face, his eyes, his hair, his ears. I wanted to memorize every bit of him. His musky smell, his taste, sweet and ripe, the feel of his palms, soft like butter, yet peppered with callouses across the tops. I let my hands drop to his wide, solid hips. His hands moved down my shoulders, my arms warm beneath his touch. Moonlight streaked through the umbrella of trees, illuminatin’ the grass beside us. I wanted to fall asleep there beside him, and wake with his gentle caress. I wanted to make baked apples for him, and to take his mother a batch without havin’ to hide. More than anything, I wanted our love not to be forbidden.

He pulled me to my feet, our chests touchin’. I pressed into him and felt his desire firm against my hip. He kissed away my tears.

“You deserve a beautiful life,” he said. He turned and walked away, followin’ the creek toward town.

“Jackson,” I called after him. He turned, and our eyes met. Mine, pleadin’ for him not to go, his knowin’ he had no choice. I blew him a kiss. He reached toward the sky and caught it, then put his hand to his heart.
Run after him
. My legs were rooted to the ground by my Daddy’s love. He disappeared into the darkness, takin’ a piece of my broken heart with him.

The weeks before the weddin’ passed painfully slow, like molasses from a Mason jar. Each breath took an insurmountable effort to push past my feelin’ of loss. I had created my own darkness by pushin’ Jackson away instead of followin’ my heart, and God knew how much I loved him, but I held a mantra in my mind that it was the right thing to do.

I found myself longin’ for Maggie’s presence, but she hadn’t returned home from college at the end of her term. She stayed in New York to work as a secretary for a law firm. She’d written me a letter and confessed that she’d joined the Black Panthers, as she’d hoped to, and that the law firm that she was workin’ for was really into makin’ changes with civil rights. She made me promise not to tell Daddy. She said she was makin’ a difference, and I was happy for her, but every time I looked at her empty bed or brought up her name at the dinner table, a wave of despair settled in around me. Daddy wouldn’t even say her name, and in his silence, sadness pressed forward. The blue in his eyes dimmed with hurt. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have him feel that way because of me.

One day I snuck over to the side of the field where Albert Johns was workin’, and I’d asked him if Jackson had sent any letters for anyone. He’d taken two steps backwards, whippin’ his head around like we were doin’ somethin’ against the law—in a way we were, though the law was unwritten. Albert looked at me like I was crazy for talkin’ to him, and that’s when I knew there would be no letters. As much as I missed Jackson—and I surely did—I thought I’d made the right decision, no matter how sad it made me.

 With my love for Jackson put on hold, and without Maggie around to sidetrack my thoughts, I finally gave in and chose a light pink for our weddin’ invitations, which seemed to please Mrs. Watson. Jimmy Lee had graduated from college, and although I was too sick the mornin’ of his graduation to attend, I was proud of him. I had high hopes that once he returned and was a workin’ man, instead of a schoolboy, he’d stop his crazy antics and settle down.

The mornin’ of my weddin’ arrived with a bout of nausea. Mama said it was just my nerves, and Maggie, who’d arrived the evenin’ before, held my hair back as I threw up the previous night’s dinner. My father had yet to say two words to her.

“You’re sure about this, Pix?” she whispered when Mama left the bathroom.

“I’m not you. This is best for me.” The inability to see Jackson made it that much easier to convince myself to start fresh with Jimmy Lee. Even if I didn’t love him the way I loved Jackson, and maybe I never would, I knew it was best if I stayed in my safe cocoon of a life. I didn’t have what it took to be on my own the way Maggie did. The comfort I drew from Daddy’s warm embrace, and his conditional admiration, no matter how unrealistic, was somethin’ that I cherished. There was no doubt in my mind that I needed Daddy in my life.