Authors: Lisa de Jong
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.
“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.
She pulls her hand away, and I step closer to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Gentry, that will be 35 cents,” I speak up. I want this piece of trash out of my house. Now. He doesn’t acknowledge me, just rakes his eyes over Mama.
“Are you raisin’ your prices on me, Sadie? You don’t need to get uppity on me now, even if you are the only seamstress in town. I send you a lot of customers, you know. Not many people want to come to a colored lady’s house. Even if she is the prettiest colored in town.” He snickers.
I inch closer to Mr. Gentry and glare him down.
Mama speaks softly, “And we appreciate all your business, Mr. Gentry. Remember I told you the other day that it would be 35 cents?”
“I’m just giving you a hard time, Sadie. No need to get your tail tied in a knot, boy.” His eyes gleam as he laughs at me.
I want to punch his face so bad, but I take deep breaths instead.
Mama walks to the door, holding out the receipt for the pants. Mr. Gentry pulls out his money and is still laughing as he leaves.
“Dammit, Mama, I wish you didn’t have to work for people like him!” I practically chew a hole in my jaw, as I watch Mr. Gentry walk to his car.
“You watch your mouth, Isaiah Cornelius Washington!” she yells at me. “Don’t you be lettin’ him bring you down to his level! If God wanted you to use that kind of language, your mouth would come equipped with soap!” she cries.
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, Mama.”
Mama doesn’t tolerate language.
“He’s harmless, Isaiah,” she says, after she’s cooled off, but I can tell she’s troubled by the visit.
She pulls out a book from our tall bookshelf and says, “Read to me for a while, son.”
Her smile calms me down, and I take the thick book from her hands. We may not have much, but we’re proud of our book collection. I’ve already read all the classics several times over. If there’s one thing Mama has instilled in me, it’s to be hungry for knowledge. Otherwise, she says I’ll never go anywhere in this life. And she desperately wants me to go
somewhere
, hopefully far, far away from Tulma. As long as I take her with me when I go.
Tulma isn’t a bad town; it’s a nice place. If you’re white, it’s a
wonderful
place. It may be small, but it has a charm all its own. The views by the river are beautiful and the weather is hot, but not nearly as hot as further south.
Mama has grown up here and it’s home, but she wants more for me. She wants me to go to college and not be held back by the small-minded people here. When she imagines leaving her family and her church, though, I can tell she gets sick at the thought. We’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess. Mama nestles beside me as I begin to read.
Chapter 5
Birthday Wishes
Today’s my birthday and the last day of school. I haven’t been back since everything happened, not quite a week, so I can’t say that I’m happy to be going on my birthday. Nothing like feeling conspicuous when there’s nothing you could desire any less.
And yet, I’m not ready for school to be over. No school means endless days of being alone. I think I might go mad with all the time I’ll have on my hands.
Last year on my birthday, my dad and I ate dinner together while my mother was out late for a work party. My dad got more and more drunk as the night went on. We still had a nice time together; for the most part, he handles his liquor pretty well. Except the times he doesn’t. But on my birthday, he seemed to try extra hard to be pleasant. He gave me a necklace that I’ve worn ever since. It’s a gold chain with a small, gold “C” on it. I never take it off.
My mother came in dressed up from her party, and she came over and patted my cheek. She pulled a cupcake from behind her back and gave it to me. I still remember exactly how it looked: pale pink frosting with a white daisy in the center. The frosting was delicious. I ate it slowly, so I could savor each bite.
****
When I get on the bus, Miss Greener is so happy to see me. She pulls me close as I step up the stairs of the bus. Her grey fedora threatens to fall off as I clumsily hug her.
“Caroline, how are you doing, sweetheart? I’ve been extremely concerned about you. How’s your hand?”
“It’s much better.”
“I’ve been wanting to come check on you, but thought I better just wait until you came back.” She looks at me, saying a lot with her eyes. “Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do?”
“Yes, I will. Thank you.” I take my seat and get my new book out to read.
“Oh, and Caroline—happy birthday.” Miss Greener beams at me and passes back a package of all kinds of flower seeds. The packets are tied together with a bright yellow bow.
“Thank you, Miss Greener! I can’t wait to try these...thank you.” I lean back in my seat, looking over each packet.
****
There’s a card from Isaiah in my locker. I save it until I have a quiet moment in study hall. The tears come with the very first sentence. I lay my head on the desk and read the rest with the card on my lap.
Dear Caroline,
When you were born, the angels stopped what they were doing and said, “I want to be just like her.”
God said, “There is only one Caroline. You will just have to be satisfied with watching over her.”
So that is exactly what they do. They watch over you night and day. Keeping guard over you as you sleep, smiling at the funny things you say, in awe of your beauty and wishing to be your friend.
And then there’s me, always here, standing just on the edge of wherever you are, but so happy for every time our worlds collide. When everything else blurs and it’s just you and me. You make me believe anything is possible.
Happy Birthday, Caroline.
I love you,
Isaiah
Besides being the sweetest words I’ve ever read, he
loves
me. Hearing him say that makes it feel like everything might be okay.
****
Clara Mae and her brother Thomas catch up with me as I’m getting ready to walk home.
“What are you doin’ the rest of the day, Caroline?” Clara Mae asks.
“I really don’t have any specific plans,” I tell her.
“Why don’t you come over to our house for a while? You can still beat your mom home, if you want,” Thomas says.
All the girls in town swoon over Thomas. I can see why they do. Every year in the Tulma High yearbook, he wins the student poll for Most Handsome and Most Popular. Guys like him too, since he’s a good football player.
I like him because he’s nice. He’s seventeen but has never seemed bugged by having me around. He’s crazy about Clara Mae, which endears him to me more. I’ve always been a little envious of their relationship. It would be nice to have an older brother.
Clara Mae hooks one arm through Thomas’s and another through mine. “Come on, we’re not taking no for an answer.”
I look over my shoulder and see Isaiah waiting around to see if I’m coming. In a single glance, I try to silently apologize. I want to tell him how much his card means to me, but it also sounds so good to have a place to go instead of home.
“What, you’d rather hang around school instead of coming to our house?” Thomas laughs. “I know we’re not very exciting, but it’s gotta be better than this!”
I look past Thomas and say loud enough for Isaiah to hear, “Sure, I’ll come over, but I have to be home by 5:30.” That will still give me time to talk to him before my mom gets home.
The hurt in Isaiah’s eyes is unmistakable. I immediately want to take it back, but before I can say anything else, they’ve turned me around and we’re marching to their house. I feel awful about hurting him, but they’re doing everything they can to make me laugh. Our arms still looped together, Thomas stops suddenly, making us all jerk to a stop. Just when we come to a full stop, he takes off, practically running, with us trying to keep up. He does the same thing over and over again until we get home, and by the time we’re there, I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
We walk into their sunny kitchen and Mrs. Owens, who asks me to please call her Miss Suzanne every time I come over, is just pulling cookies out of the oven. It really is that perfect.
We go outside with our cookies and eat them under the big willow tree in their backyard, and I wonder why I’ve put off this visit for so long. I always enjoy myself when I’m here. A few minutes into our conversation, I’m reminded.
“Do you have a big party planned, Caroline?” Thomas asks. “Your mother seems like she would throw big parties. I still remember the church carnival she put together last year. Do you remember that magician she hired? Where did she even find him?”
“I think he was from Memphis,” I answer, wishing I could change the subject already.
“Your mother seems really cool. When I went in the bank last week, she invited Clara Mae and me over to your house sometime for supper. I thought that was nice.”
“Yeah, that would be nice. You should come.”
Maybe she’ll even show up for you.
Clara Mae pipes up, “She is
so
beautiful. Has she ever shown you her dress when she won Miss Tennessee? My dad still talks about how pretty she was the night she won. I think it makes my mother jealous, though.” Clara Mae laughs. “Daddy says she was the prettiest girl this side of Texas, besides Mama.”
“Well, now Caroline is.” Thomas grins at me, his eyes bright.
“So what are y’all doin’ this summer?” Desperate to change the subject.
“We’re supposed to go on vacation in a month, but other than that, I think we should swim. A lot.” Clara Mae sticks her toes in the water. “The pool is ready. Next time you come over, we’ll go swimming.”
“That sounds great. You know I love to swim, but I’m still not very good.”
“Oh, I bet you are.” Thomas is looking at me in a different way today. I feel extra fidgety under his steady gaze.
“Do you have any new dolls, Clara Mae?” I wish Thomas would go inside.
“I do! Come inside, I’ll show you.” Clara Mae has a huge collection of porcelain dolls.
Thomas groans, “Aw, come on! Let’s go down to the river. That’s way more fun than those silly dolls! Don’t they scare you just a little with their eyes, all blink-blink and real-looking?”
“Come on, Caroline, my brother is trying to hog you as usual.” Clara Mae takes my hand and we run inside to her room.
The dolls are beautiful. I’ve never really played with dolls and feel that fifteen is surely too old to start, but I still appreciate Clara Mae’s collection. She has every kind imaginable. At first I’m afraid to touch them, but Clara Mae pushes one into my hands. I set it carefully beside me and watch as she takes one and plays with the doll’s hair. She’s really good, keeping me completely mesmerized with her twists and turns of the curls into an elaborate hairdo. Before I know it, Mrs. Owens is knocking on the door, saying, “Caroline, are you ready? It’s almost 5:30.”
****
I’m so glad I went—it took my mind off of things. I just hope Isaiah isn’t too upset with me. After I wave goodbye to Mrs. Owens and Clara Mae, I look down and on the doorstep is a small box. It’s wrapped in pretty lavender paper. I carefully tear the wrapping off and open the box. Inside, there’s a small wooden jewelry box. The wood is dark walnut and perfectly smooth. I rub it over and over, loving the soft finish. Inside the jewelry box, a tiny “I + C” is etched into the wood. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been given. This must be what Isaiah has been making. He has hinted several times that he was making me something, but I didn’t imagine it would be so special.