Have No Shame (8 page)

The sun hovered just above the horizon, illuminatin’ the sky in beautiful shades of blue, purple, and pink. I had been waitin’ for Jackson, watchin’ the sun set, and was ready to give up when I felt, more than heard, him behind me. My heartbeat sped up and set my legs tremblin’. I turned around and my eyes lingered over his sweat-laden muscles pressin’ against his drenched t-shirt.  I felt a blush creepin’ up my cheeks, and I was powerless to move. The air between us was suddenly thick, uncomfortable.

“You came?” he asked in a low voice.

I nodded, feelin’ the heat of his gaze, the same longin’ desire I was tryin’ so desperately to hide. I turned away and sat down on a wide tree stump, hopin’ to quell the heat on my cheeks. He knelt at the creek bed and washed his hands in the fresh water.

“Did it go okay?” I asked.

He looked back and that heat of attraction hit me again. I smoothed my skirt, then patted my hair, worryin’ about if I looked pretty enough. I didn’t know what to do with the feelin’s I was havin’. The same heart racin’ excitement I’d felt for Jimmy Lee so long ago, only somethin’ deeper. I wasn’t only interested in Jackson’s looks, like I was with Jimmy Lee at first. I wanted to know everything about Jackson. I wanted to touch him, take my time, savor the feel of his hand, our fingers interlaced. I wanted him to whisper my name in my ear and set my nerves on end. I looked away, embarrassed. What I wanted was so wrong that it was even more excitin’.
What on earth was I doin’? 

“Your pop’s real nice,” he said.

My heart sunk.
My father will kill me
. 

“Albert should be back by next week, when I leave.”

Another kick to my heart. He was leavin’.

Jackson wiped his hands on his pants and sat on the stump next to me. My senses were in overdrive. Goose bumps rose on my arms. My hands fiddled like nervous fish in my lap.
Stop over dramatizin’ things
. Surely I was just mad at Jimmy Lee, confused, but I could not deny the desire to relax my shoulder, to let it touch his. Was I turnin’ into one of those easy girls Jimmy Lee talked about?

“How was the funeral?” I asked, tryin’ to stop thinkin’ about the richness of the color of his skin, the way it glistened with sweat, so smooth I wanted to touch it.

“Sad. My aunt was there, and no one bothered her. I guess they figured they’d done enough, killin’ her husband and runnin’ her out of town. And now she’s gone.”

Reality appeared in the form of Byron Bingham’s bloated face in my mind. I shivered, the former heat of attraction lost in reality. “Where will she live?”

He shrugged. “What does it matter? She’s lived here for thirty years, now she doesn’t.” He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw pulsated. “I think she went to Mississippi with my other relatives.”

“Then at least she won’t be alone.” I had the urge to soothe him. If he were one of the guys I had known durin’ school I’d probably have put my arm around him and told him it would all be okay, but there was an invisible line between us, and I was afraid to cross it.

He turned to face me, the sound of the water tricklin’ fell away, his breathin’ fillin’ each pulse of my heart. I was unable to resist the urge to be closer, if only by emotional pull. I turned my shoulders toward him and lifted my gaze. Our eyes held.

“True,” he said, wringin’ his hands.

I watched his lips move, heard his words, but my mind was workin’ what it might feel like to kiss him, what it might taste like. I stumbled over my words, finally askin’, “And Albert? How is he?” A tinglin’ sensation traveled up my arms again. I inched away from him, hopin’ to slow my racin’ heart.

“He’s hurtin’, but good. Scared. You know.” He sighed, a long, loud sigh, his eyes lookin’ at me, my own desires reflectin’ back. He pushed up from the stump, turnin’ his back to me like he, too, was fightin’ an urge more powerful than he could manage. “Life in Forrest Town. It is what it is.”

“So when you’re done, with the war, I mean, where will you go?” I spoke just above a whisper, afraid of the answer. “Will you come back here?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was more of somethin’ that I read to mean that he wasn’t stupid enough to come back, no matter what he might be leavin’ behind. “Not if I can help it. My friend Arthur invited me to New York, said he could get me a good job there. A real job, not in the fields or maintenance work, like what I could get here.”

He held his hand out to help me off the stump. I took his hand and stood, holdin’ my breath, not knowin’ if I should let go or hold on. I wanted to hold on. He withdrew his hand, and I swear his eyes lingered on mine for a second. Then again, my heart was beatin’ so hard I might have just imagined it.

We walked side by side along the bank of the creek. Each step measured, each breath calculated, so I could feel the energy that rode between us like an invisible tie.

“How’s your mama doin’. I can’t imagine what she’s goin’ through. My mama would be a mess.”

“She’s thinkin’ that she’s thankful that your mother is kind, even if your father is—” He wiped his forehead with his arm and sighed. “Even if your father is just like everyone else.”

“You know about that? About my mama?”

He put his hands on his hips and said, “Sure I know. I’m real thankful, too. Your mama is a really good person.”

Fear suddenly gripped my chest. “Oh no, who else knows?”

“No one who’s gonna say anything.”

I crossed my arms and paced, my skirt swished in the silence. “No one can know about my mama,” I said. “I can’t even think about what could happen to her.” My voice rose, my words tumbled out fast and harsh. “You don’t understand. If Daddy finds out, he’ll—”

He put his hands gently on my upper arms. Even through my sweater my skin warmed beneath his palms. He looked into my eyes and spoke just above a whisper. “Hey, hey. Did you forget who you’re talkin’ to? I
do
understand. If anyone does, I do. My brother, Mama, my aunt. We all do.”

I don’t know why I did what I did next. He didn’t pull me forward. He didn’t push me away. My body relaxed into him and it felt like the most natural motion in the world. I leaned into his chest, my head restin’ on his sweat-damp shirt. He smelled of hay and perspiration. His chest trembled beneath my cheek, his hands moved slowly around me, comin’ to rest, hot and sure, on my lower back. I closed my eyes, feelin’ his heart pound against my cheek. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. The warmth of his body and the tenderness of his touch were so different than when Jimmy Lee held me. With Jimmy Lee I was an afterthought, an imposition in his precious day, or a means to a climactic end. Jackson welcomed me, drank me in. He didn’t rush my need for comfort or push me away. He didn’t throw me down and push into me. He simply held me, as if I belonged right where I was.

Friday afternoon, Maggie pushed through the front door wearin’ clothes I didn’t recognize, and an expression to match. There was tension in her smile, and her normally laughin’ eyes were different, more serious. I rushed into her arms, and she swung me around.

“Pixie! Oh, how I missed you.” She set me down, held my shoulders, and pushed away from me, surveyin’ me from head to toe. “Girl, you are one pretty, little thing! Gosh, look at you, all grown up!” She pushed my blond waves from my shoulder and cupped my cheek. “When you were little, one bat of those blue eyes used to get you everything you wanted from Daddy. I bet now they worry him somethin’ fierce. Boys must look at you everywhere you go.”

My cheeks burned. “I missed you.”

She grabbed my hand and touched my engagement ring. She squeezed my hand and said, “You’re sure about this?”

“Waddaya mean?” I asked, wonderin’ if I was wearin’ the changes in my feelin’s on my sleeve. Could she see the difference in me as clearly as I could feel it?

“I haven’t seen you since you got engaged. Someone needs to look out for my little sister.” She squinted, “So, are you sure?”

I’d been meetin’ Jackson down by the creek for several days, and though we had never embraced again, I was fully aware of my growin’ attraction toward his gentle nature and his knowledge of the world, which was so much bigger than mine. I found myself sittin’ on the stairs listenin’ to the news on the radio in the evenin’s. I wanted to answer Maggie with the truth:
Not really. He’s different than he was, and my heart is pullin’ me toward someone else
. Instead, aware of our parents watchin’ us, I said, “Yeah, and Daddy says he has a promisin’ future.”

“Of course he does,” Maggie feigned a smile in his direction.

“Enough of this. Come over here and give me a hug.” Mama’s cheeks were plumped up, pink with happiness. She opened her arms wide, and Maggie sank into them. They could have been sisters. I wished I had the beauty that they possessed. I wasn’t ugly, but they had a certain somethin’ that shined through dirt, worry, and fatigue.
One day
, I hoped. One day, I’d find that beauty in myself.

“Pants?” Jake smirked.

“They’re all the rage in New York, little brother.” Maggie twirled in a circle, hands by her head. She looked down at her slim figure in cotton pants that tapered to the knee then flared at the bottom. “It’s a whole different world out there, Jakey-poo.”

Pants? Jakey-poo? It was like listenin’ to Maggie, only bigger—more outspoken than before—and she had an air of not carin’ what we thought. My eyes shot to Daddy, whose arms were crossed, his right hand rubbin’ his chin. I had a feelin’ that he was tryin’ to figure her out just as I was. I was definitely intrigued.

Mama had baked a meatloaf, fresh biscuits, and green beans. Maggie’s favorite.

“Tell me about New York.” I was excited to hear about the big city. She was so far away and all I could think about was how scared I’d be, movin’ away from Mama and Daddy and startin’ a life without knowin’ they were right around the corner.

Maggie’s eyes lit up. “It’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. There are a million people, and I swear the noise never stops.” Maggie poked at the vegetables. She had yet to take a bite.

“Do you have many friends?” I asked. Sometimes I wondered if it was easier to make new friends than to try and reignite friendships with those I’d left behind because of datin’ someone older. I wasn’t even sure I’d want to rekindle those relationships, given how much I’d changed. Reinventin’ yourself to be seen as the person you wanted to be, rather than the person everyone had known since the day you were born, sounded excitin’ to me—and terribly scary.

“Does she ever not?” Jake smirked. My parents gave him a
not now
look. “What? Well, doesn’t she?”

“That’s enough, Jake,” Daddy said. “Maggie, tell us about your classes. Are you learnin’ a lot?”

She nodded, drawin’ her eyebrows together, as if she were thinkin’. She looked at Jake and said, “I have lots of friends. Everyone is real nice.”

“That’s good, honey,” Mama said, and patted Maggie’s arm.

Maggie tilted her eyes toward Mama and smiled.

“How about your classes, Maggie?”

Maggie set her fork down. She looked at Daddy, pulled her shoulders back, and said, “They’re alright, Daddy.” Her words were flat. I detected a lie.

Tension thickened in the room.

“Grades? Are you doin’ okay?” he asked, starin’ into her eyes.

She held his gaze. “Yes, I’m doin’ fine.” Maggie picked up her fork again, droppin’ her eyes to her plate. I watched her draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly through her full lips. “There’s so much more to New York than school and grades, and there’s so much more to life, Daddy.”

The room grew silent. I watched Daddy’s face tighten. I looked at Maggie, flabbergasted. What was she doin’? I knew our parents had saved every penny to send Maggie to New York, and Daddy had fought sendin’ her “into the big city” with ferocity. Maggie had been too much for him. She knew when to turn on the charm, “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll make you proud,” and when to push, “Come on, Daddy, what’s wrong with a woman gettin’ an education?” In the end, I think Daddy got tired of fightin’ and let her go.

My father cleared his throat. “Meanin’?” he asked.

“Meanin’—” Maggie’s eyes danced around the room, much to my chagrin, they settled on me. I loved Maggie but I hated bein’ pitted between her and Daddy, and somehow, things always ended up that way. I played with my fork, holdin’ her stare. The air electrified between us. I knew nothin’ good was about to happen. Maggie’s lips spread into a wide grin. “There’s so much goin’ on out there. Music, clothin’,” she grasped the edge of the table with both hands, her voice risin’ in excitement. “People. The people are talkin’, livin’ like they love life, sharin’ time, information.” She turned to face our father, shakin’ her head. “This town, Daddy,” she laughed under her breath. “It’s…it’s way behind the times—”

“That’s enough Maggie,” he interrupted her.

Maggie stood up, then walked around the table and stood behind my chair, grabbin’ my shoulders with both hands. Her grip was strong, thrillin’. “Things are happenin’, Pix, big things. Things you could never imagine.”

“Like you losin’ your mind?” Jake laughed.

“Margaret Lynn, sit back down.” My father’s voice was calm, steady, forceful. Mama sat in silence, the edges of her lips slightly raised, her pride-filled eyes on Maggie, her napkin clenched in her hand. I shook in my seat, afraid of what Daddy might say. I had no idea what Maggie meant by the things she said, but I wanted to know so badly that I had to clench my teeth to remain silent.

Maggie walked around the table, swingin’ her hands dramatically from side to side, her chin tilted upward. “There’s a whole world out there. I know you’ve heard about it,” she lowered her chin and locked eyes with our father. “On the radio?”

“I said that’s enough Margaret.” If fumes could come from a person’s ears, the dinin’ room would have been filled with smoke.

“Civil rights,” she said, as if she were answerin’ her own question

Civil rights? Civil rights was not a topic discussed in the Tillman household. We knew what we heard on the radio in those moments before Daddy turned it off. Daddy was quick to shoot down our questions.
Things are just fine
‘
round here. We don’t need no trouble brought on by some trouble-makin’ coloreds. When somethin’s not broke, why fix it?
I knew there were marches and speeches goin’ on in other places, and Jake and I knew better than to ask questions or bring up what we’d heard in school or picked up by scannin’ the newspapers. Maggie was another story. She reveled in challengin’ Daddy.