New Boy (20 page)

The Braxtons lived in a new brick house on a corner lot with a two-car garage that housed a new Cadillac on each side. We found a parking space on the street and rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Braxton, a woman in late middle age with smooth olive skin, answered. Her hair, piled on her head in a bouffant style,
had a piece of mistletoe pinned on top, and she was wearing a low-cut pale green evening gown, with a long pearl necklace wound several times around her neck but with enough slack left to disappear into her ample bosom.

"Well, if it isn't the Garrett family! Happy New Year! And who's that handsome young man you brought along?" said Mrs. Braxton, batting her eyes at me. It was rumored that, years before she landed Dr. Braxton, she had been a showgirl in the entertainment world. Judging from her false eyelashes and heavily applied make up, I could believe it.

"How are you getting along up there at that school in Connecticut?" she said. "Have you met any nice young ladies since you've been there?" Her eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings and when she grinned, her frosted pink lipstick glowed in the darkened doorway.

"No, ma'm," I said. "We don't see too many girls."

"Well, I think we should do something about that right now," said Mrs. Braxton. Without hesitating, she plunged into the crowd with me in tow. We only managed to get a few feet before she was intercepted by one of her guests, a light-skinned woman in a slinky black dress. "
Latrice!
Where have you
been,
child? I haven't seen you in a world of time. I have to come out to your parties just to make sure you are
alive.
And who is that
gorgeous
young man you're holding hands with?" she said, looking me up and down before giving Mrs. Braxton a sly smile. "Latrice, have you been holding out on me?"

Mrs. Braxton barely acknowledged her. "I can't talk right
now, Dorothy," she said. "I got some business to attend to," and she yanked me deeper into the crowd. With Mrs. Braxton in the lead, we wound our way through the crowd to the other side of the living room, fending off additional attempts by guests to engage her in conversation until we reached the dimly lit sun porch. It had apparently been reserved for young people who had accompanied their parents to the party. Standing around on the porch was a group of teenagers, mostly younger kids I didn't know, listening to Lloyd Price singing "Lawdy Miss Clawdy" on a little forty-five record player.

"Hey, Rob!" said a voice I recognized, "what're you doing here? I thought you'd left!" It was Roosevelt, rocking back and forth on an aluminum lawn chair with a bottle of Royal Crown Cola in his hand. I had a feeling it was spiked.

"I'm going back day after tomorrow," I said.

"You know, Rob," said Roosevelt, "you been talking kinda different since you got back from that school you attending with those white boys. You starting to sound like you from
up there.
" He covered his mouth and laughed.

"Well, I'm glad to see you know someone here," said Mrs. Braxton, ignoring him. "But there is one young lady in particular I wanted to introduce you to. Now, let me see. Where is she?" and she peered around the shadowy porch, searching for the right face until she caught a glimpse of the young woman she was looking for. "Come over here, darlin'," she said, motioning to a slender girl who was standing by herself with her back to us. When she turned toward us, the first thing I noticed was her
glasses. They were black, with those cat's-eye frames, and it took me a moment to realize that it was Paulette who was wearing them. When I did, though, I smiled. She had on a red plaid dress with gold buttons and a white lace collar and a crinoline underneath, and she looked festive and bright. When she saw us, she quickly took off her glasses, folded them, put them in the pocket of her dress, and came over. She was smiling, and I could tell by her expression that she remembered me. Latrice Braxton took her hand and stood between us, holding my hand as well. By now the other kids on the porch sensed that something unusual was going on. The Christmas tree lights gleamed in their eyes, and they covered their mouths to hide their amusement.

"Now, Paulette Gentry," said Mrs. Braxton. "I want to introduce you to Rob Garrett. You both come from fine families. I know each of your parents well and I know they will be very happy to learn that you have made each other's acquaintance." She gave both of us a squeeze of the hand and a flutter of the eyelashes, smiling and swiveling her powdered face back and forth, and then she turned and disappeared into the crowd in the living room. As soon as she left the porch, the kids broke out in laughter.

"What y'all gonna do now?" said Roosevelt. "Get married?" and everyone hooted. Paulette blushed. Her right eye was slightly awry, drifting just a bit as it had at the meeting, but her face was so lovely.

"You want to get some punch?" I said. It was the only thing I could think of to get us out of there. Paulette nodded quickly and looked at me and, sure enough, her eyes were now as
aligned as the planets. We made our way into the dining room, crowded with adults, all of whom seemed to be staring at us. I squeezed in between several of them who were standing near the punch bowl and carefully ladled out two cups of eggnog.

"I don't know what these crackers expect," I overheard someone say, an older man with mixed gray hair and a red and green bow tie. "Are we supposed to lie down and take this stuff
forever?
"

"Yeah, but you don't want to get 'em too riled up, Fred. You know they can be hell on wheels."

"Well, I don't give a damn!" said Fred. "I'm tired of their crap.
Nigger
this.
Nigger
that. They tell you to make something of yourself, and when you do, they
still
treat you like a
nigger.
" His eyes were blazing and he glared at his companion as though he would take a poke at him if he said the wrong thing. I handed Paulette an eggnog and looked around for a quiet place to talk, but it seemed that every available space in the living room and dining room was occupied. Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open and a heavyset, dark-skinned woman in a wrinkled white uniform entered the dining room with another heaping platter laden with hors d'oeuvres, deviled eggs, little Smithfield ham sandwiches, and cheese puffs which she put on the dining room table, and when she backed her way through the kitchen door, I could see that the room was empty.

"Follow me," I said to Paulette. We slipped into the kitchen, where we found the back stairway and sat down next to each other on a lower step. In addition to the woman who had come into the dining room, there was another woman in the kitchen,
also dark-skinned but older than the first, with the same build and dressed in the same manner. They were both busily working at the sink, and it seemed they barely noticed us when we came in.

"So what's it like up there at that school?" said Paulette. It was a question that everybody had asked me since I had been home, but, except for my talk with Russell, this was the only time I felt I could be candid.

"It's like being in a foreign country," I said, "where you know a lot of stuff is going on, but you can't really be sure where you fit in because you don't speak the language and you don't know the people. I've been there since September and I've only made two friends, and one of them had to move out of the dorm because the other kids treated him so badly. All I do is work and try to stay on the honor roll. I figure that's the one language they can understand." I looked at Paulette. Her elbows were resting on her lap and her palms were under her chin, and her eyes were concentrating intensely on mine. "Do you know what I mean?" She nodded.

"Sounds pretty bad," she said. "I used to live in a foreign country." At first, I thought she might be kidding.

"Which one?" I said.

"Germany," she said. "My father was stationed there in the army. He was a surgeon with the medical corps. Our family lived there for three years. I can still speak some German, but I've lost most of it."

"What was that like?" I said.

"Lonely. I didn't really get to know any German kids, and they didn't seem to want to get to know us either. I guess they could still remember the war. And so could we. We lived in an apartment. We didn't live on the base, so we didn't see too many Americans either. I was glad I was there with my family, but even then it got lonely."

"I keep thinking I should leave. I'm the only colored student in the whole school. They never had one of us before."

"But if you leave, won't that make it harder for another one of us to get in?" I had never thought about it like that. Of course, I thought, that's the whole idea of being the first. It's so there will be a second and a third. Paulette's chin was still in the cup of her palms, but her right eye had strayed.

"I guess you're right," I said. "But if something comes of that sit-in we were talking about, I want to be a part of it and I can't if I'm at Draper."

Paulette sat up straight and looked surprised. "You think it would be worth it to leave school over
that?
"

"Why wouldn't it?" I said. "If it would help to end segregation."

"But you have an opportunity to get the kind of education that most of us dream about," she said. "Look, something may come of that sit-in, but suppose, just suppose it doesn't. Where does that leave you? Think about what you'll be giving up."

"Don't you understand?" I said. "It's not the education, it's the
life
of the place. I'm afraid I won't recognize myself by the time I graduate."

"I'll recognize you," she said, placing my hand in hers. I
wanted to kiss her when she said it, but I wasn't sure she wanted me to.

The cooks were hard at work carving the turkey and the ham and arranging the slices on a platter. The older woman had taken one of the pots from the stove and was draining it into the sink. When she had finished, she poured a steaming mound of black-eyed peas and ham hocks into a big serving dish. Then she drained the second pot and filled a large bowl with steaming gray pigs' feet. When all the dishes were assembled, the cooks took them into the dining room and placed them on the table. We could hear the guests on the other side of the kitchen door murmuring over the display of food. Despite the smells circulating in the kitchen, I wasn't hungry, but I thought Paulette might be. "Do you want to get something to eat?" I said.

"Not right now," said Paulette. "I may have something later. Do you want something?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Just fine," and I gave her hand a squeeze. The voices outside the kitchen were rising, some people even shouting. "It's almost time!" "It's almost here!" "Wheeee! This is it!" and then everyone started to count down in unison. "Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" and there were shouts of "Happy New Year!" The crowd started to sing "Auld Lang Syne," blow whistles, and crank noisemakers. In the kitchen, the cooks were dancing the jitterbug in the middle of the floor and hugging each other, and suddenly, the older one stopped dancing and turned to us. "Y'all sweethearts so quiet over there, like you talkin'
about somethin' mighty important," she said. "Don't y'all want a plate with somethin' to eat?" We both shook our heads. "Maybe later," I said. "But thanks anyway."

By now the crowd was roaring through another round of "Auld Lang Syne" and fireworks were crackling outside. The cooks had resumed jitterbugging, holding each other's hand and leaning back and twirling dishtowels in the air to celebrate the arrival of another year. I looked at Paulette and she looked at me, and I thought she was waiting for me to kiss her. She lowered her eyes in the shy way she had, and then she leaned toward me and so I did, I kissed her. I closed my eyes and I kissed her.

New Year's Day was my last day at home, and I spent the morning on the telephone. I called Paulette twice and she called me three times. Each time she called, my mother came to the door of my room. "There's a young lady on the telephone asking for you," she said, with a suppressed smile and batting her eyes. Toward the end of the day, I told Mom I was going out for a walk. She must have known I was going calling because I had on a jacket and tie, but she never let on. I caught a bus that let me off near Paulette's house. It was a large house, a two-story brick with a big magnolia tree in the front yard. I rang the bell and a slightly stooped old lady answered the door and looked me over carefully through the inner screen door.

"Yes?" she said, as though I should explain my presence. She checked the screen door to make sure it was locked.

"Good evening, ma'am," I said. "I'm Rob Garrett. Is Paulette at home?" She was still looking me over.

"Paulette!" she called out. "You got company." Paulette came quickly down the stairs and rushed to the door.

"It's all right, Grandma," she said, "I've got it." She opened the door to let me in as her grandmother hobbled into the kitchen looking mildly suspicious. Paulette and I walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa next to each other. It was the end of the day and the sun filtered into the room through the huge magnolia tree, covering us with soft orange light. As we looked at each other, I felt as if I would die if I had to leave her.

"I have to go back tomorrow," I said. I reached toward her and she gave me her hand.

"What time does your train leave?" she said.

"Seven in the morning," I said.

"I'll just be getting ready for school," she said with a light laugh, followed by a sigh.

"Will you write to me?" I said.

"Of course I'll write to you," she said. She took my hand in both of hers and held it against the side of her cheek.

"Will you wait for me?" I said. "Until I come back?" She looked at me with an expression of great seriousness, as though nothing else mattered in the world at that moment. She nodded her assent and threw her arms around my neck.

"I'll wait for you," she whispered in my ear. "Of course I will." We started to kiss, but there were footsteps approaching.

"Paulette, I need you in the kitchen to chop some celery," said a woman in a husky and commanding voice from the hallway. An attractive brown-skinned woman appeared at the entrance to the living room. She was wearing an apron and had a dishtowel in her hand. I stood up and so did Paulette, still holding my hand in hers. I was embarrassed, but Paulette spoke right up.