The Sweetest Thing (22 page)

———

On a Saturday in early December, I went to the club with my girl friends for lunch. The main ballroom had an enormous Christmas tree in it, and I took several splendid photos of the tree with its blazing candles and glittering ornaments. We finished our meal by discussing the Christmas tea and how much it would mean to the residents of the Alms Houses. The waiter came with the bill, and we each gave him our club number so the club could charge our meal to our family account. When the waiter brought back the cards to sign, he looked at me and said a bit apologetically, “Miss Singleton, Mr. Jones would like to speak with you.”

I felt those spots on my cheeks appear, giggled a little self-consciously at my friends, and followed the waiter out of the restaurant area and down the hall to Mr. Jones's office. He was the manager of the club.

“Hello, Miss Singleton,” Mr. Jones said. He was a formidable man in his forties, handsome, broad shouldered, his hair jet black. “Please have a seat. This will only take a second. You see, we have not received your family's dues for the month. I'm afraid that your mother has chosen not to renew your club membership.”

I stared at him completely speechless. Finally, I found my voice. “We're not club members anymore?”

“I'm afraid not.”

I bit my lip to keep tears from pouring out of my eyes. “I'm ever so sorry. I didn't . . . My mother didn't . . .” I reached for my purse. “I can pay you cash.”

He smiled patronizingly. “No, this lunch is on the club. Don't you worry about a thing. And I'm sure that times will get better, Miss Singleton.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

Somehow I got out of the plush chair and ran down the hallway to the women's lounge. I burst into tears, staring at myself in the gilded mirror. The walls were covered in expensive wallpaper, and monogrammed little white hand towels sat beside the marble sinks. Every inch of the club spoke of comfort and grace and money.

My family didn't belong to our club anymore! I lived just down the street, and I didn't belong. It was one more thing that I had lost and would have to get back.

I sat on a pink satin stool in the lounge for a long time. Finally Mae Pearl came and found me. “I can't go back out there,” I cried. “I have a horrible stomachache. I'm afraid I'm coming down with something.”

“Oh, Perri. I'm terribly sorry. Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No, no. It's okay. It always passes after a little while. Go on with the others.”

“If you're sure.”

“Positive.”

As I watched her leave, I told myself I hadn't lied to Mae Pearl. I
had
come down with something. A horrible case of shame.

I walked home from the club, fury pulsing in my temples. I lit into Mamma as soon as I walked into the house. “Why didn't you tell me you'd canceled our membership to the club? I've never been so humiliated in my life!”

Mamma looked up at me, and immediately I regretted my outburst. “Perri dear, I'm so sorry. I honestly just forgot to tell you.” She let out a forlorn sigh. “Bill Robinson gave me some more bad news a few weeks ago.”

My throat went dry, and I mumbled, “I am so tired of Mr. Robinson giving us bad news.”

Mamma nodded. “Yes. Me too. It seems we have other outstanding debts that must be paid. I didn't want to sell the car. We need it. And I wanted you and Barbara to continue at Washington Seminary. I decided to withdraw our membership for this year. It will save us quite a bit, and hopefully I can get this new debt paid off.”

“What new debt is Mr. Robinson talking about? We've been over Daddy's books dozens of times! He's wrong.”

“He showed me things. Apparently, your father had been gambling.” She said this in a choked voice. She looked so fragile and miserable that I took her in my arms.

“Oh, Mamma. I'm so sorry.”

“I would have told you right away, but you were so busy with the photography, and I didn't want to distract you. You're doing good work, Perri, and helping us get by.”

As I left the dining room, I clutched my throat. It felt as if I were slowly being choked to death. I realized that I could never get everything back that we'd lost. I was trying my best, but no matter how much I did, there was a horrible noose around my neck, just like there had been for Daddy.

Alone in my room, I took out
Patches from the Sky
and turned to the page where I had stored Daddy's note to me. I thought of him, desperate and gambling away money we didn't have. It didn't make one bit of sense. I collapsed on the floor, my back against the bed, and closed my eyes . . . remembering . . .

It was a late summer afternoon in August 1932. Daddy had just gotten home from the office. I hurried downstairs to see him and found him in his study, his head resting in his hands, elbows on the desk.

“What's the matter, Daddy? A hard day at work?”

He looked up at me, ran his hands through his black hair, and said, “Yes, sweetie. Very hard.” Then, “I had to let three of our employees go today.” He began massaging his temples. “Three good men with families, little kids to feed. Goodness, Perri, I wish I could give them something. Help them in some way.” His face was pale, and I thought he actually might have been crying.

I could not imagine my father, who loved his job and his employees and his family, gambling our money away in a fit of despair. That was not how Daddy acted in the midst of his morose moods. Mr. Robinson knew Daddy perfectly well. Surely there was another explanation. I needed to talk to him. Alone.

———

Mr. and Mrs. Robinson lived in a fashionable house right on Peachtree Street. On Sunday afternoon, I told Mamma I was going out and drove to the Robinsons' house and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Robinson answered. “Perri dear! How lovely to see you. Is your mother with you? Barbara and Irvin?”

I shook my head, and she noticed I wasn't smiling.

“Is something wrong, dear?”

I felt my eyes tearing up, but I said quickly, “No, nothing new. But . . . but I was wondering if I could talk to Mr. Robinson about . . .” I swallowed twice. “About Daddy.”

“Oh, goodness, my dear. Of course. Have a seat there in the living room, and I'll go get him.”

She disappeared down a hall.

Mr. Robinson came into the living room, greeted me as he always did, looking almost timid behind his thick glasses, and took a seat across from me. “Perri, Patty said you wanted to talk to me?”

I had to say it quickly. “Yes. About Daddy. Without Mamma here.”

“I understand.”

“It's just that, well, you knew Daddy so well, and Mamma said you found more outstanding debts. That he'd been gambling before . . .” I cleared my throat, closed my eyes, and whispered, “Before he died.”

“Perri dear, I didn't know Dot had told you.”

“She only just did, and I can't believe it. You knew him. He'd never spend money he didn't have. What could it have been?”

Mr. Robinson removed his glasses, ran his fingers around his eyes, and glanced down at his hands. He looked more timid and uncomfortable than ever. “Perri, of course your father would never do those kinds of things.”

I felt a huge surge of relief.

Then he added, “Under normal circumstances.” A sigh. “But things hadn't been normal for a long time, and your dear father, well, I believe he was trying everything he could think of to keep you all solvent. He worried himself crazy over it. Sometimes, in desperate times, people do desperate things.”

“Like gambling to try to get money back?”

Mr. Robinson nodded. “Yes, among other things.”

I could not look at him when I asked my last question. “You think he gambled our money away and then felt so bad about it that he . . .”

“Perri, your father was a wonderful man. You remember that. Don't think about the rest.”

I left their home barely able to make my legs move forward, wishing in that moment that I could disappear. I drove to Oakland Cemetery and stood by Daddy's grave until the sky turned gray and then dark, until the statues and gravestones surrounding me looked like ghosts in the dusky light. The only words I spoke out loud, over and over, were, “Daddy, why did you say you didn't do it? What didn't you do?”

Dobbs

Perri was absolutely devoted to her photography work, and she missed several dances with Spalding. One evening, she was only halfway through the washing process, and we were supposed to be at a party at the SAE house. “You go on, Dobbs. I'll finish up here. I've already told Spalding I can't make it.”

“I'm happy to stay with you. You know the parties don't mean much to me.”

But she insisted, and I had the feeling she just needed to be alone.

Andrew Morrison was my date at the dance, and the evening sped by with other boys cutting in on me time and again, twirling me around to the music so lively and happy. Several commented on my short hair and said I looked stunning. I kept thinking of Hank, remembering what he'd said— “
Dancing is just fine as long as you do it always and only with me.”

I kept looking for Spalding, but he didn't show up during the whole party. I figured he was pretty miffed at Perri. Near the end of the evening, I went to find the toilets, which were behind the bar area. Coming back out, I walked through a storage room piled high with old files and several dilapidated pieces of furniture. One of the frat guys was lying on an old sofa, his arms wrapped around a girl with blond hair. I tiptoed past, feeling embarrassed, even though they were so involved in their actions they surely didn't notice me.

Then I saw it. The Madras pants and the white leather shoes. Spalding! I tried not to gasp and hurried to the door, but as I turned the handle, the door squeaked, and he looked up and saw me.

I had to tell Perri.

CHAPTER

20

Perri

I could not bear to tell any of my friends that we were no longer members of the club. Fortunately, since Spalding often took me to the Piedmont Driving Club on the weekends, I had a perfect excuse for why I wasn't at our club. Every Phi Pi, except Dobbs, envied me for having nabbed a college football star, anyway.

On a chilly Saturday night ten days before Christmas, Spalding drove to our favorite “parking spot,” as he called it. We made up for the times I missed a party because of a photo shoot by going parking. Part of me was ashamed of the things we did in his car and part of me enjoyed it. But the part that felt ashamed could not win over the other shame I was carrying, of all that my family had lost.

On that night, Spalding had a little wrapped gift for me.

“What is it?”

“An early Christmas gift. Go ahead and open it.”

Inside the little box, I found his SAE pin. “Are you serious? You're giving me your pin?”

He nodded.

“Oh, Spalding. How wonderful.” I was at an absolute loss for words. Being pinned was a serious affair, meaning that girl was taken. Often a proposal for marriage followed after.

“I thought you'd be pleased,” he said, gently pushing my hair back out of my face so that he could kiss me again. “You know what this means, don't you?”

I nodded.

“It means you're mine. All mine.” He said it with a smile on his face and desire in his eyes. He took me in his arms again, and I honestly could not tell if my heart was beating in its rapid, fluttery way because I was terribly excited or terribly afraid.

———

The next day after church, I drove the Buick to the Chandlers' and found Dobbs up in her room, sitting at her desk.

“I'm pinned to Spalding, Dobbs! Isn't it wonderful? Why, that means we're practically engaged.”

Although I wanted Dobbs's approval, I wasn't surprised by her reaction. “Oh no, Perri. It's too quick. You're too young. There are loads of other swell boys out there. Like Philip. I think it's a big mistake.”

I plopped down on her bed and stared straight at her. “I knew you'd say that! I just knew it.”

“I can't pretend that I think he's the right guy for you. You know I'm no good at pretending.”

Irritated, I raised my voice. “You always think you have the right answers—for yourself and everyone else. I don't have time to wait on your God to somehow miraculously provide for my family. It's not going to happen!” I fingered the SAE pin. “Spalding will provide for us all! He'll do just fine.”

“But you don't love him.”

I ignored the fluttering in my chest, cocked my head, and said, “What in the world does love have to do with it? We're congenial; he's rich; we make a handsome couple. We'll be well thought of in all of Atlanta.”

Dobbs's face fell. She didn't say a word but turned her head down.

“Dobbs, I'm out to save my family. However I can.” When Dobbs didn't answer me, I asked, “You think I'm crazy, don't you.”

“No. Not at all.” She lifted her head and met my eyes. Hers were filled with a mixture of hurt and love. “I think it is a very noble cause, and I wish you well. But not with Spalding. That can't be the best way.”

“What in the world do you really know about Spalding and me? You made up your mind the first time you met him that you didn't like him. Why do you always have to be such a stick-in-the-mud?”

Dobbs frowned. “I just think that marrying a guy for his money is dangerous. You should aim for something higher.”

“Oh, like what? Religion? I've told you what I'm aiming at, Dobbs Dillard. It's very simple: survival. That's my goal. And Spalding fits in with that plan perfectly.”

Dobbs rarely looked angry, but that afternoon she did. “I feel sorry for you, Perri. You live by the invisible rules of your society, and you're afraid to step one toe outside of that perimeter. You're desperately trying to go back to how things used to be. But you can't ever get that back.”

Her words stung, and I lashed back at her. “I just wish for once you could be happy about something good that has happened to me. You're a great friend when I need sympathy and condolences in hard times, but you are a pretty awful friend when I need congratulations. That's all I wanted to hear from you tonight, Dobbs. I just wanted to hear you say, ‘Congratulations.' ”

I left her standing in her bedroom and hurried out to the Buick. I drove to Club Drive with my heart hammering in my chest. Dobbs was the best friend I had ever had precisely because she refused to play our society games. She had tried to tell me the truth, and sadly, I would not listen.

Mamma's reaction to my being pinned was the complete opposite of Dobbs's. “Why, that is wonderful, darling. He's such a fine young man.”

Barbara begged me to let her hold the SAE pin, and Irvin put a record on the Victrola, and we danced and laughed and celebrated. No one mentioned engagement or a wedding, but I knew Mamma was thinking that at least one of her children would marry well and be cared for.

Later that night, I went to tuck Irvin into bed, as had become my custom. “You like him an awful lot, don't you, Sis?” he asked.

“Yes, quite a lot.”

“But you won't run off and marry him yet, will you? You'll stay here with us for a while, won't you?”

I hugged him tightly. “Oh, Irvin. Of course. I'll always be here for you. Always.”

I tiptoed out of his room, feeling that familiar weight of responsibility on me. I found Mamma in the kitchen.

“Mamma, you think Spalding's a fine boy, right?”

“Yes, I've been impressed with him. He has impeccable manners and was a great help to us during the move.”

Finally I said, “Mary Dobbs doesn't like him. She thinks he's all wrong for me.”

She reached over and patted my hand. “Perhaps she's just jealous. You took her under your wing and helped her find her place in Atlanta. She's probably just afraid of losing your friendship, or having it be diminished because of your time spent with Spalding.”

“But, Mamma, usually Dobbs has a lot of insight.”

“Everyone makes mistakes in judgment, Perri. Mary Dobbs is no different.”

“Why do you say that?”

Reluctantly Mamma told me about the stolen items that Mary Dobbs claimed to have seen in my father's toolbox and of how she told her aunt about this. “But when Josie and I found the toolbox—right where Mary Dobbs claimed it had been—it only contained your father's tools.” Mamma cleared her throat. “It was such a strange thing, Perri. I've wondered if she took those things from the toolbox and sold them for her poor family. But if she did, why would she have told us about them? And the fact that she found them there would mean that someone else had stolen them and hidden them in your father's toolbox. I tend to think she made that story up to try to help out the Chandlers' servants.” She sighed. “I'm sorry to tell you, Perri, but I'm afraid I don't trust her. That's it. I can't imagine why she would make up such a story, especially when you two are such good friends.”

When Mamma said that, I shivered. Maybe I could not trust anything that Mary Dobbs Dillard had told me in the past.

Then again, maybe I could. And that's what worried me the most.

Mr. Robinson had said that desperate times caused people to do desperate things, like gambling. “
Among other things.”
He had pronounced those words, and suddenly I wondered if “other things” could mean stealing. Could Daddy have stolen things to get money?

I hurried out to the little garage, not even bothering to put on a coat. On shelves to the right side of where the Buick was parked, Mamma had stored some things of Daddy's that she couldn't part with—like the toolbox. I found it there and knelt down on the frozen pavement—teeth chattering and my fingers shaking from cold and fear. I lifted the lid, removed the top tray, and stared down at the tools underneath. Daddy's tools. Nothing more.

I thought back to the day when Dobbs had helped clean out my father's closet, tried to remember her reactions, tried even to imagine seeing pearl-handled knives and jewelry lying inside this very box. My father stealing things from the Chandlers was as unthinkable as his gambling away money we didn't have.

But the things Dobbs supposedly saw were not found later. Was Dobbs lying? Was Mamma?

I shut the lid on the toolbox, returned it to the shelf, and left the garage, feeling absolutely numb and confused.

Dobbs

On the last day of school before Christmas break, Perri showed off her SAE pin with great flourish and pride. But every time I saw that pin, I thought of Spalding in the room necking with another girl and I felt sick to my stomach. The way I saw it, Spalding wanted to have the prettiest girl in Atlanta as his girlfriend, but he had no intention of remaining faithful to her.

I had to tell Perri what I'd seen. I waited until she was working in the darkroom that evening.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“You better believe we do,” she replied. Her green eyes were flashing. “Mamma told me that you made up a story about finding all the stolen stuff in Daddy's toolbox! Oh, Dobbs! Why would you do that to us? Does some colored woman you barely know mean more to you than me and my family? Is that it? I don't understand you, Mary Dobbs! I don't understand you at all.”

Perri was more worked up than I had ever seen her. She didn't even let me respond but continued her diatribe. “Why do you have to keep making up stories? I never did believe all those stories you told us. But this is the worst! You want to ruin my family's good name!”

“Perri, I've never made a thing up. I promise they're all true. Even about the stolen items. Don't you know me well enough to see that the only reason I didn't tell you about the toolbox was to spare you further pain?”

She didn't answer me, and I couldn't tell if she believed me or not.

I didn't want to tell Perri the other thing I had seen, but I loved her too much to keep my mouth shut. For as much as I had felt a conviction that she didn't need to know about the toolbox, I was certain she needed to hear about Spalding.

“Spalding's not right for you, Perri. He's a womanizer. I've seen him being intimate with another girl. He'll only make you miserable. Please, Perri. Please, listen to me. I promise I'm telling you the truth.”

To my astonishment, she threw down the photos she was holding in her hands and actually screamed at me. “Quit telling me the truth, Mary Dobbs Dillard! Do you understand me? Leave me alone! I am tired of hearing the truth.”

Distraught, I said, “But, Perri, this is your life. You're throwing it all away for the sake of appearances. You can't do that. You are so much . . . so much . . .”

“So much what?” she spat. “Better? Deeper? Than that? Than my society? Well, you're wrong. I'm not! I hate the way you come waltzing into my life and criticizing everything that matters to me. Stop telling me that my life is wrong and bad.”

“I've never used those words. I'm just pointing out the inconsistencies in your life. You have the potential to do so much more with your life than just becoming a society lady. I think you want more.”

“Well, you think wrong! I know exactly what I want, and I'm going to get it. And I don't trust you anymore. Please, please leave me alone!” She rushed past me, out of the darkroom and the barn, slamming the door shut behind her.

I felt as if she had yanked the little rug I was standing on out from under me and I'd fallen flat on my face. Anne Perrin Singleton had made her choice, and I was not a part of it. I had the desperate feeling that this was the end of our friendship.

Perri had left the darkroom in a mess, running out to the Buick and not looking back. I began cleaning it up, thinking of Perri's accusations as I did and feeling completely exhausted. Parthenia found me there. “I's done finished all my chores, and Papa said I could come see you. Kin I take a peek at all the photographs?”

Parthenia often came to see the new photos Perri had taken. Perri had, in fact, begun to show her how to use the camera, which pleased the little girl immensely. Normally, it warmed me inside to watch her examine them, her little face intent and studious.

“Of course. Just don't touch anything, you understand?”

She nodded. Slowly she walked around the room, peering at the black-and-white photos hanging by clothespins from a wire.

I was busy leaning over the vat, finishing the last batch of negatives, when Parthenia let out a blood-curdling scream. She startled me so much that I dropped the negatives in the solution and twirled around.

“What in the world is the matter, Parthenia?”

Her eyes were wide with fright, but she said, “Nuthin'.”

“Parthenia, something has upset you. Tell me what's the matter.”

She turned her head down, not looking at me. “I know what I seen. I jus' knowed it.”

“What are you talking about, Parthenia?”

She grabbed me around the waist and buried her head in my chest. “I know it ain't proper for a colored girl to be hugging a white lady, but my mama ain't here, and I's afraid.”

“
Shh,
now. It's okay.” Wondering what had given her such a fright, I sat down on a bench and held her in my arms. “Are you afraid of something you saw?”

She nodded, her head still buried in my lap.

“A mouse? Did you see a mouse? Or a rat?”

She shook her head.

Then I had an idea. “Was it a photograph that scared you?”

Immediately, her head went up, and she nodded, “How'd ya know?”

“I
don't
know, Parthie. But tell me.”

“Kain't or it'll be worse and worse for my family.”

“Why?”