“She’s my friend,” Isaiah says.
“Yeah, she’s your friend,” Leroy laughs. “You think this girl is your friend? I bet she’s not your friend at school. Do you think she’s his friend at school, Les? Cause I bet she don’t even know he’s alive at school.” He shakes his head. “But this don’t look like no ‘friendship’... friends don’t hold hands and talk all lovey-dovey.” Leroy cracks up at himself again. “I have some issues to settle with her though. I need you to let me have her for a little while. She tripped me the other day. You better know, Isaiah, that I don’t take to that.”
“I don’t even know why you’re talking to her,” Les says. “She’s trash.”
“She’s pretty trash, though.” Leroy laughs and turns to Isaiah. “You need to get on out of here, boy, and let me handle this one.” He eyes me up and down.
“Her dad is expecting her home in a few minutes,” Isaiah says, taking my arm and walking around them.
It works. We quickly walk past and they take off on their bikes. Leroy yells, “I know where to find you, Miss Caroline.” Their laughs grate on my skin.
I rush home and lock all the doors. Isaiah calls me when he gets home, but we don’t talk long, the encounter has left us shaken.
I’M REALLY BEGINNING to wonder if Daddy is coming back when another two weeks have gone by without any word from him. Two teachers have held me after class to see if I’m all right. I’m distracted and can’t stop wondering where he is and if he’s okay.
Isaiah asks his uncles if they had heard anything about Daddy. They work construction on the other side of town. They thought he’d taken work in Memphis.
I am determined to find out what in the world is going on when my mom comes home tonight. My dad cannot possibly have left town without telling me. He’s left me to fend for myself a lot, but he’d never leave town this long without giving me warning. He knows my mother has it out for me.
I’m thinking about all of it as I sit in class trying to dissect a frog. I didn’t think I would like this at all, but it truly is fascinating to see any kind of creature’s insides. The knife is a struggle, though—it seems too big for this little frog. As I’m trying to open the stomach and figure out where my dad really is, the knife slips. Blood goes shooting everywhere.
I’m hurriedly sent to the nurses’ office and Cindy tries to stop the bleeding, but it just keeps gushing. She begins calling my parents; first their work numbers, then the house, then my grandparents. No one answers anywhere and I can tell she doesn’t know what to do next.
“Is there anyone else we can call?”
Miss Greener answers on the first ring and is there within twelve minutes. She says she’ll take me to the doctor to get stitches. We rush to the car with Miss Greener practically lifting me off the ground. She buckles me in and then proceeds to drive like I’m on the verge of dying.
“Whoa, Miss Greener, it’s only my hand!”
The blood has filled a towel, though, and I don’t know if it’s her driving or the cut, but I’m feeling greener than a toad. Guess that’s what I get for dissecting its kin.
Just when I think the ride will never ever end, we reach the clinic.
The doctor sees me right away and gives me nine stitches between the thumb and first finger of my left hand. Dissecting casualties.
On the way home, Miss Greener looks over at me. “Caroline, are you all right, honey?”
I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. I’m afraid if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.
“It’s okay to cry, you know. You’ve been through a lot today. I know your finger must really be hurtin’ and you haven’t even made a peep.”
I look out the window and focus on swallowing down the huge lump that has taken over my throat.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and leaves it there for the rest of the drive.
When we reach my house, there’s a grey car in the driveway. I’ve never seen it before. Maybe Daddy’s back and he bought a new car. This makes sense. He’s been talking about needing a car and there’s nothing nice to buy around here. He probably did go to Memphis just to get a good deal. I’m so ready to see him. So much has happened since he has been gone. I run in and he’s not in the living room. I hear a sound in the back bedroom, so I run back there.
It isn’t Daddy.
I stumble as I try to quickly back out of the room. Miss Greener is in the living room now and I run straight to her. Suddenly, I’m desperate to get her out of my house. I wipe my face and try to smile at her. The words start pouring out of me. Frantically.
“Thank you, Miss Greener. I’ll be fine now. I’m just going to rest for a while. Thank you so much. You were really so kind to take such good care of me today. I really appreciate it. I’m just gonna...I’ll just go lay down now.”
I take her hand and walk her to the door, just as my mom and Mr. Anderson come out of the bedroom. My mom is talking to me, but I can’t hear her. I just want Miss Greener to go home.
My mother is still buttoning her shirt when she sees our company. “Why, hello. Caroline, why are you home? Miss Greener, what brings you to my home in the middle of the day?”
Neither of us answers and my mom is thankfully silent for a moment. “Well, this is…” she trails off, smoothing her hair.
Miss Greener is flustered and red, but she calmly says, “Caroline got a pretty bad cut today. She had to have stitches. Nine. Of. Them.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Caroline, why didn’t you let me know?” My mom is at my side, holding up my hand, not noticing me wince.
“The school tried every number they have for you, as well as your husband’s numbers.” Miss Greener glances at Mr. Anderson as she says this. “Cindy also tried Mr. Carson’s parents but wasn’t able to reach anyone. We had to act quickly.”
“Yes, well, thank you. We’ll take it from here. Thank you, Miss Greener.” My mom dismisses her.
“Caroline, are you all right? Do you need anything else from me?” Miss Greener asks.
I want nothing more than to say, “Take me with you.”
But I don’t.
“Thank you, Miss Greener,” I whisper.
“Anytime, dear. Just let me know if I can do anything else,” she whispers back as she hugs me goodbye.
When she leaves, the room is quiet. The tension is so thick you could get up in it and crawl around. I want to scream and kick and cry and say mean things to my mother. Instead, I sit and wait for her to speak.
When she does speak, it’s to Mr. Anderson. “You should leave, now, Grant,” she says.
Grant?
I guess when she’s been doing what I just saw them doing, she can call him Grant.
Yes, you can leave now, Grant, I mimic in my head. My dad will be home soon.
“Are you sure? Is she all right?” He nods at me.
At this, I jump up, take his arm, and drag him out the door. “She is fine! Now leave!”
Mama grabs me. “Caroline, stop this instant.” Her voice is as sharp as that stupid knife. “That is no way to speak to Mr. Anderson. You apologize right now!”
“I will not. You—get out of my house!” I run to my room and slam the door.
A few minutes later, I hear the car start and he peels out of the driveway. My mother walks back into the house, pauses by my door, and keeps walking to her room.
I sit on the floor by my window, the fields coming in and out of focus. I try to ignore the hate that’s churning.
IT’S DARK WHEN I come out of my room again. The bathroom is calling; otherwise, I would have stayed in my room forever. My mom is sitting in the dark, drinking the alcohol she berates my dad for drinking. When I walk by, she lifts her head. Her words have a slight slur that I’ve rarely heard from her. I’m used to this from my father.
“When you’re my age, you’ll understand this, Caroline. Your father...he has never appreciated me. Ever. Do you hear me, Caroline?”
She takes another swig and looks at me. ?
??You’re a pretty girl. Used to getting plenty of attention. You just wait. One day, people won’t notice you anymore. You just wait.” She laughs bitterly.
I go over to the coffeepot and begin making strong coffee. She continues to talk, and I pour a cup of coffee when it’s ready. Her head begins to get heavy. I walk over and take the bottle out of her hand, giving her the coffee. She takes a sip and reaches up to smooth back a wavy strand of hair that has gotten loose.
She really is beautiful, I think. If her insides didn’t make me cringe so much, maybe I could appreciate her pale, creamy skin and her Elizabeth Taylor eyes.
“I deserve better than this dump. Do you know that President Kennedy came through one time and noticed me? He did. He flirted with me and made your daddy so jealous. Have I told you that before?”
I nod. I’ve heard it many, many times.
“I was gonna get out of here. Your daddy had big dreams.” She laughs, tears running down her face. “Look at where those big dreams got him. He’s a drunk, Caroline. Nothing but a filthy drunk.”
My heart feels like a hard rock. It beats, but it’s dead. I can’t listen to her. I’ve played out this same story with her one too many times.
I’m not sure if she notices when I leave the room and go to bed. I stay awake all night, unable to even close my eyes. When the sun comes up, I close them and sleep the long sleep of someone who has known grief and recognizes it for what it is.
I OVERSLEEP THE next morning too, and since my hand is screaming at me anyway, I stay home. After Mama leaves for work, I go out to the living room. There’s a row of bottles by the couch. It seems my mother has taken over where my dad left off with the drinking, and by the looks of things, she’s able to keep up with him in that department. I make some promises to myself to stay away from alcohol, since it seems to turn the people I love into idiots.
Then, I’m ashamed of thinking that of my parents.
In the afternoon, I go sit by the pond past the Talbot house. My journal gets the brunt of all my wrath. I write until the lead in my pencil breaks and then I just sit and stare at the water. I hear a rustle in the tree behind me and Isaiah walks through the clearing.
“I thought I might find you here,” he says with a grin.
“How did you know?” I can’t help but smile back. It feels strange—my face has been almost taut with not smiling for so long.
“I just listened...a little bird told me where you were.”
He pulls a wildflower out from his pocket and puts it behind my ear. Squished and all, it’s beautiful.
“I’ve been worried about you. Is your hand okay? I tried calling last night and when I didn’t see you at school again today, I knew I had to come find you.”
“It’s feeling a little better.”
He waits for me to say more, his eyes pulling me in.
“I...I think my dad isn’t coming back, Isaiah. My mom and Mr. Anderson…”
Isaiah puts his arm around my shoulder, and I begin to cry. He sits there and lets me cry, holding me for a long time. I realize once I stop that he doesn’t seem surprised.
“Did you know about my mom?” I pull away.
“It’s a small town, Caroline, you know how people like to talk around here. I didn’t want to think it was true, but I’ve heard some things.”
“It’s true. I saw them. It was awful, Isaiah. The day I cut my hand, I saw them. I’m so mad; I can’t even look at her—I think I hate her.” It all comes rushing out.
Isaiah has never heard me talk like this, but he doesn’t seem bothered by my words, just that I’m going through the feelings. “I don’t believe that you hate her.”
“I do.”
“I’ve never seen anyone love their mother so much. Even when—” he stops.
“Even when what?”
“Well, even when most people wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to wonder why I ever did.” The tears well up again, but I’m done crying. I get up and pull Isaiah up with me.
“Let’s go get our bikes or something.” Now that I’m cried out, I’m ready to move.
“I have to get home and help Mama with supper,” Isaiah says. “She didn’t want me to stay out long. I told her I needed to check on you since you weren’t at school again today.”
“And she let you come?”
“Yep. She just made me promise to hurry back. So I better go.” He touches my face as he says it.
Isaiah has never touched my face like this. My heart beats fast. Everything else goes still. He leans over and kisses me. Right on the lips. It’s over so quickly; I barely blink. But it’s still really nice.
I didn’t know it was possible, but Isaiah blushes. He waves and runs off before I have a chance to say anything.
Later, I’m still standing in the same spot, wondering if it felt good to him too. And...I wish I could have at least puckered up a little bit.
I FEEL LIGHT as I jog home from Caroline’s, like I could run for miles and not even be winded. I can’t believe I kissed her. I have to hold back from laughing when I think about my nerve. I think I shocked us both.
I’ve been drawn to Caroline from the first time I talked to her in class. I could tell she was an old soul like me. I’m a little older than her and have always had a lot of responsibility since I’ve never had a dad around. Every black boy I know without a father has either grown up fast or gotten into trouble. Even though Caroline doesn’t know what any of that’s like, she has also had to grow up before her time.
I wish she had parents who were there for her. She deserves that. She needs someone to love her and take care of her, and I’d like that person to be me. I know we would come against it—there would be hell to pay for us to really be together—but I can’t let her go. I love her too much.
I had hoped it wasn’t true about Caroline’s mother. For a long time now, everyone in town has whispered of an affair going on between Mrs. Carson and Mr. Anderson. You just can’t keep something like that a secret in a small town. I wonder if she wanted to get caught.
Caroline...thinking of her makes my heart ache. She’s so beautiful. So good. When she told me about her life at home the first time, and every time since, I wished I could take her out of there and bring her to my mama. Sadie Washington, my mama, is the finest woman I know. She knows how to truly love and cherish someone. But Caroline has never spoken a bad word about her parents until today, and even then, I know she didn’t really mean all that. She just needed to let it out to someone. She seems like the parent most of the time.
Opening the front door, I call out, “Mama, I’m home.”
“Hey there, Love. Supper’s ’bout ready. How was Miss Caroline? Did you find her?”
I pause and try to tone down any excitement in my voice. “Yes, ma’am, I did. She’s had a really rough couple of days.”
“Bless her heart, that child has more rough times ahead of her, I’m afraid.”
I stand in the doorway and Mama turns and smiles at me before going back to slicing tomatoes.
“Mama, did you know about her mom and Mr. Anderson?”
She stops in mid-slice. “Does Caroline know? Oh, child. I do wish she didn’t have to know all that.” She shakes her head and arranges the tomatoes on a plate. “That girl has a sadness about her that breaks my heart.”
Caroline has a ready smile for everyone, but her sadness is always right there, just beneath the surface. The first time I made her laugh, I felt like I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Me and Superman, together. It became my goal right then to make Caroline Carson happy. I want that more than anything.
“What’s gonna happen to her parents?” I ask, knowing she probably doesn’t know, but wishing she had any good twist to put on the situation.
“Well, you just never know. Just never do know, son.”
“Do you ever wish you were married, Mama?”
I lean over on her shoulder then, as she stirs the cornbread batter.
&nbs
p; “Me? Oh, Lawd. I have enough to handle with the likes of you.” She laughs and turns around, placing her hands on my cheeks.
“Look at you. You’re way up there now, gettin’ so tall! You, my man, you’re going to meet a wonderful woman one day and that will be that. You’re going to be a good husband and a good father. I can see that in you now. You have the right stuff in you.”
I’ve already met her—I think it, but I don’t dare say it. I smile at Mama, wishing I could tell her how one day I will marry Caroline, but I know she wouldn’t really believe me. I want her to take me seriously, but the thought of her son marrying a white girl is just not imaginable.
I kissed her today. And I can’t wait to kiss her again. Those thoughts wind through my head as I set the table; everything else blurs. When Mama finishes up with supper, we sit down and eat. While we’re laughing and talking about the little, everyday things, I wish Caroline could be as lucky as me.
AFTER THE TABLE is cleared, I finish my homework while Mama sits at the sewing machine. She’s considered the best seamstress in town. She used to only see black folks, but when Miss Ellen moved further south, Mama got the white folks’ business. It helped her business more than double when white customers began knocking on her door.
She hems Mr. Gentry’s pants and watches the clock. I hope he’s not the one picking them up. Mr. Gentry is the owner of the funeral parlor in town and while he would never even speak to Mama if they ran into each other on the street, in private, he seems to take every chance to make her uncomfortable. She’s finishing the pants as the doorbell rings, and I answer the door.
Mr. Gentry steps inside, nodding at me and then looking at Mama.
“Are those pants ready yet, Sadie?” He walks over by her and manages to make even that question seem dirty.
“They are, Mr. Gentry.” She holds the pants up for him to take.
“How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Fred,” he says softly, holding onto her hand underneath the pants.