Have No Shame (18 page)

“Whoa, Pix, you can’t tell Daddy what you’re doin’. No way.”

I knew she was right. “I know, okay. I didn’t mean that literally. Sheesh, he and Jimmy Lee would kill me.” Jimmy Lee’s name slipped out before I could catch it, and Jackson looked away. “I meant that I want to do this. I’ve been a coward with all of the important aspects of my life, and I don’t wanna be anymore.”

Maggie ran her eyes over my belly, then gave me a look that said she was proud of me, but also…that it might just be too late. I twisted the weddin’ ring I wished I wasn’t wearin’
.

On the way out the door, Jackson hugged Maggie, and then she went to the kitchen to wrap up a piece of cornbread for him to take home. Jackson pulled me close and whispered, “Even with his child inside you, I still love you.”

Too shocked from the embrace to reciprocate, I stood there like an idiot, paralyzed by his admission. Maggie returned and handed him the cornbread. “We should do this again,” she said.

I couldn’t tell if the tiny flutter in my belly was caused by butterflies or the baby.

“There’s a get together Thursday night. A bunch of people are holdin’ a live performance of enactin’ desegregatin’ America.”

Jackson caught my worried look. I saw him searchin’ my eyes for a response to his confession, but I had no words to say. They were tethered to my achin’ heart and refused to break free.

“Don’t worry, the word isn’t out,” Jackson finally said. “There are just about thirty of us and it’s in the projects. There’s music, but there’ll be no words. I'd love for you to come see it.”

“What are the projects?” I had so much to learn.

Jackson lifted one eyebrow, and smirked. “It’s like Division Street back home.”

“Is it safe?”

“Safer than Division Street.” Again, his sarcasm cut me like a knife.

“I promised to work late Thursday night—big court day Friday. But you should go, Pix. Jackson, will you take good care of her?”

“No, really. I would feel funny.”

“Nonsense. I’ll pick you up at eight.” His tone left no room for negotiation.

“You’re goin’ tonight, Pix. This is good for you, to break out of that small town fear. I was scared the first time I went, but really, Jackson will take good care of you.”

That’s what I’m worried about.
Maggie wasn’t buyin’ my fake sick routine. She was goin’ to work and I’d have all day to stew over bein’ alone with Jackson.

“Besides, remember when we used to walk by the church near Division Street on Sundays and the gospel just pulled us in? Remember how we moved to the music, and if anyone drove by we’d pretend we were just messin’ around? You don’t have to do that anymore. Now you can enjoy it. I promise you, you’ll return a changed woman.”

I think I already am
.

The knock on the door made my heart leap into my throat. My hands trembled as I reached for the knob.

I pulled the door open.
I can do this
. Jackson stood before me in a dark-green t-shirt and jeans. His eyes met mine, and I swear a current of electricity passed between us.

“You look radiant,” he said.

I looked down at my maternity blouse and skirt, feelin’ like an overgrown balloon, and turned to hide my blushin’ cheeks. “Let me grab my bag,” I said.

Jackson came inside and closed the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, respectfully givin’ me space.

“I’m glad you agreed to come.”

“Mm-hmm.” My voice was caught in my throat. It took all my courage not to fall into his arms.

“Listen, we should talk,” he said. “The way we left things, I’m really sorry. I understood where you were comin’ from. Things were too dangerous for us.” He paused. I listened with my back to him as I put Maggie’s house key in my purse. “You did the right thing. I’m happy for you.”

“Don’t be.”
Oh, my goodness, where did that come from?
  I spun around and fumbled for words. “I mean, don’t be happy. No, not that, it’s just…oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

Jackson took a step closer to me. I could smell his aftershave, a different, sexier scent than the smell of him after he’d worked all day.

“What is it?” he asked. He placed his hand on my upper arm, and my heart swooned with its warmth, incitin’ memories of his tender touch as we dropped to the field months before. I could still feel his body tremblin’ under my hands, his muscular thighs bare against my own.

I looked down at the floor, hidin’ my blush. He lifted my chin with his finger. “Alison, you can tell me anything. I won’t think poorly of you. I won’t try to take you away from the life you have.”

“But—”

“I meant what I said, that I love you even if you are carryin’ Jimmy Lee’s baby. I haven’t been with another woman since we parted, and I don’t want to. It’s you who touched me with your open heart.”

He touched my cheek, and I closed my eyes again, relishin’ in his touch. When I opened them, he was smilin’.

“I believed what I told you, that things needed to change. I was goin’ in this direction anyway, but I didn’t really have the courage then to do what I’m doin’ now. You gave me that courage. You made me realize that no matter what I thought in my heart, no matter what I might have felt, this issue was so much bigger than that. Love can’t conquer all.”

“I was afraid to lose Daddy,” I explained.

“Shh,” he said, and dropped his hand. I wished he hadn’t. “I understand. Your father, your family, that’s your world. My world isn’t backwoods Arkansas. My world is everywhere. I want to know that anywhere I go, I can go with the one I love.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You helped me to understand myself better. I know I can’t have a partial relationship.” He rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans, then said, “Alison, there was a big Supreme Court case in June, and it, combined with our boycotts and protests, has the ability to change everything.”

“What do you mean? Martin Luther King tried to change everything and Forrest Town is still segregated.”

“Come, sit.” He guided me to the couch. “The Lovings, they’re an interracial couple who married in ’57 in Virginia.”

My eyes grew wide. “That was ten years ago.”

“Illegal, right? Well, they were sentenced to a year in prison in ’59, but it was suspended for 25 years if they agreed to leave the state. Mildred, the wife, she wrote in protest to Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy. Kennedy referred her to the American Civil Liberties Union, and that’s when everything started to change.

“The ACLU filed a motion on their behalf, and a slew of lawsuits followed, eventually reachin’ the Supreme Court. Get this, five years later, the Loving’s case still hadn’t been decided, so they began a class action suit in the D.C. district court—and even that was shot down.”

“I really don’t understand all this legal stuff.”

“What it comes down to is that they didn’t give up. They appealed, and in June, the 12th of June to be exact, the court overturned their convictions, dismissin’ Virginia’s argument that the law was not discriminatory because it applied equally to, and provided identical penalties for, both white and colored people. The Supreme Court ruled that the law against interracial marriages violated several clauses in the Fourteenth Amendment. They won. They won, Alison, and they’ve opened doors for more interracial couples.”

“But what does that have to do with Arkansas?”

He grabbed my hands. “Things are changin’. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but they are. Look around you. You’ve seen how different New York is from Arkansas.”

“Yeah, it scares me a little,” I admitted.

“It scared me, too, when I first got here, but I can’t ever go back to livin’ how it was in Forrest Town.”

I tried to process what he’d said, but Mr. Bingham’s dead body kept floatin’ into my mind.

“I can’t imagine Forrest Town ever bein’ any different.”

“Baby steps. That’s all we can do. We can try, and if we fail, we fail.”

“But what if failin’ means you get killed?” The reality of that possibility loomed between us, thick and uncomfortable.

“I fought for this country. Doesn’t it make sense that I’d fight for my hometown, where my family lives?”

We walked through the dark streets of the projects, passin’ old men and women sittin’ on the concrete steps, cigarette smoke cloudin’ around them, open bottles of alcohol by their feet. Children moved about, carefree and seemin’ly undaunted by what I found desolate and depressin’. There were small clusters of young colored men and women hootin’ and laughin’. I grabbed Jackson’s hand, then wrapped my free arm around my belly protectively.

Jackson leaned into me. “Don’t worry, nothin’s gonna happen.”

We turned down an alley and entered a courtyard with a small, grassy area. Eight or ten men and women were performin’, their arms swayed in the air and they jumped about with great, dramatic flair, but they didn’t speak. I had never seen such a performance. Some moves were as graceful as a dancer’s, while others were sharp and angry. The crowd moved to a strange musical rendition of guitars and tambourines.

People sprawled on blankets on the grass or leaned against the buildin’. Many held cigarettes, and I recognized the same sweet aroma that I'd smelled at the meetin’, which Maggie explained was marijuana. The moon shone down on the performers like a spotlight, and we sat on the grass and watched the performance unfold. It seemed everyone held either a can of beer or a bottle of alcohol, and it reminded me of the night that Albert was beaten, further confirmin’ my desire to be part of the Forrest Town desegregation efforts.

Darla came and sat next to me, pullin’ me into her thin chest in a deep embrace. “So glad you made it, Pixie,” she said with a coy smile. “I hope you don’t mind, Maggie shared your nickname with me. I love it. It suits you perfectly.” She touched my belly. “You’re such a tiny, little thing.”

“I don’t feel so tiny,” I answered. I wasn’t used to people touchin’ my stomach. I’d lived such a solitary life with Jimmy Lee that my shoulders relaxed, the knot in my stomach loosened, and it felt good to let Darla in. It had been so long since I’d had a friend, that I was almost afraid to believe in it.

“Aw, come on. You’re a pixie. It suits you.” Darla sat next to me and began swayin’, her arms held high above her head. I turned to find Jackson starin’ at me. He nodded, and then put his own arms up in the air. I followed, tentatively, lettin’ the soothin’ guitar rhythm move me.

“Pix, you made it! Groovy to see you!” I opened my eyes to find Marlo, yellow teeth and big hair, crouched in front of me. His stringy arms hangin’ by his side.

Darla shrugged. “I said Pixie suited you. So I shared, shoot me.”

“It’s okay, Darla,” I said, coverin’ my blushin’ cheeks.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. Know why they call me Marlo?”

“Uh, it’s your name?” I said.

“Are you kiddin’? My parents would never call me that. My name is Martin Riley Logan, after my pop. Never been called Marlo ‘til I met these fine folks. They gave me an identity all my own.”

I liked that. Maybe it was time I had my own identity.

“Right on, sista’,” Marlo went off to greet another friend.

I turned toward Jackson. “Thanks for bringin’ me. I’m really glad I came. This is so different than anything I’ve ever been around.”

“This is the new world, Alison.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, withdrawin’ his arm. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just got too comfortable.”

I looked at Darla, worried she’d seen and would think I was some sort of loose woman. Her eyes were closed, her hands wrapped around a beer bottle. She swayed back and forth, seemin’ly oblivious to the rest of us. Completely absorbed by the music.

“I overreacted,” I said. “I just don’t want to cause undue trouble. That’s all.”

In protectin’ my own emotions by tryin’ to remain at a distance from him, I’d hurt his feelin’s. I reached for his hand. To hell with what others thought. Jackson was my friend, and if this wasn’t someplace we could show that, there would never be a time or place where we could. Even if for only a few minutes, I wanted to feel the sense of bein’ with him, alive, in public. Jimmy Lee was so far away that it was like he existed in some dream I’d conjured up long ago.

After the performance Jackson and I held hands as he walked me home. My back and legs were tired, but I felt free from the shadows of the past. Strangely, I didn’t feel as though I was cheatin’ on Jimmy Lee by holdin’ Jackson’s hand, and the worry of what Daddy might think was fleetin’ rather than all-consumin’. I did wonder what Mama might think, if she saw me now. She’d be disappointed, of that I was certain. Not because the color of Jackson’s skin, but because of the vow that I had taken with Jimmy Lee.

We stopped at a coffee shop, and I waited out front at a small, round table while Jackson went inside to grab two cups of hot chocolate. Car horns honked as they passed. How different New York was from Forrest Town. If I were home, I’d be sleepin’ beside Jimmy Lee, waitin’ for the next uneventful day to unfold. A cool breeze wrapped itself around me.
Jimmy Lee
. I was havin’ his baby. What was I doin’ here with Jackson? I watched him through the glass storefront, payin’ for the hot chocolate. He looked over and smiled. I turned away. Why was life so complicated? Why had I not stood up for what I felt back home, all those months ago? How would I ever get out of the pickle I was in? Maybe I couldn’t. I’d chosen my life, what right did I have to try and change that now?

“Here you are,” Jackson said as he set down the hot cocoa. “You alright? You look kind of, I don’t know. Sad?”

I sipped the cocoa, lettin’ the warmth of it soothe my worries. “I’m alright. This is all so new to me.”

“That it is,” he said, and reached for my hand.

I looked around. No one there knew me, no one would run back home to tell Jimmy Lee that they’d seen me, but I worried about Maggie—what would she think? I withdrew my hand.

 “Alison, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m not tryin’ to take you away from your husband.”