Full Circle (9 page)

“Well,” the delicate, dark face broke into a smile again, “what do you think of Jasmine House?”

“It's pretty, don't you think?” Tana still felt shy with her, but there was something appealing about the lovely girl. There was something raw and courageous and bold that stood out on the exquisite face.

“They gave us the worst room, you know.” Tana was shocked at that. “How do you know?” “I looked as we walked down the hall.” She sighed then and carefully took off her hat. “I expected that.”

And then she looked Tana over appraisingly. “And what sin did you commit to wind up rooming with me?” She smiled gently at Tana. She knew why she was there, she was the only token Negro to be accepted at Green Hill, and she was unusual, of course. Her father was an author of distinguished prose, winner of the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize, her mother was an attorney, currently in government, she would be different from most Negro girls. At least they expected her to be … although one could never be sure, of course … and Miriam Blake had given her oldest child a choice before sending her to Green Hill. She could have gone somewhere in the North, to Columbia in New York, her grades were good enough, or Georgetown closer to home, there was UCLA if she was serious about an acting career … or there was something important she could do, her mother said … “something that will mean something to other girls one day, Sharon.” Sharon had stared at her, not sure what she meant. “You could go to Green Hill.”

“In the South?” Sharon had been shocked. “They wouldn't even let me in.”

Miriam had glared at her. “You don't understand yet, do you, babe? Your father is Freeman Blake. He's written books that people have read all around the world. Do you really think they'd dare to keep you out today?”

Sharon had grinned nervously. “Hell, yes. Mama, they'd tar and feather me before I ever unpacked.” The thought terrified her. She knew what had happened in Little Rock three years before. She read the news. It had taken tanks and the National Guard to keep black children in a white school. And this wasn't just any little old school they were talking about. This was Green Hill. The most exclusive woman's junior college in the South, where daughters of Congressmen and Senators, and the governors of Texas and South Carolina and Georgia sent their little girls, to get two years of smarts before settling down with boys of their own kind. “Mama, that's nuts!”

“If every black girl in this country thinks like that, Sharon Blake, then a hundred years from now we'll still be sleeping in black hotels, sitting at the back of the bus, and drinking out of water fountains that reek of white boys' piss.” Her mother's eyes had blazed at her as Sharon winced. Miriam Blake thought that way, she always had. She had gone to RadcJiffe on a scholarship, Boalt Law School at UC, and ever since, she had fought hard for what she believed, for the underdog, the common man, and she was fighting for her people now. Even her husband admired her. She had more guts than anyone he'd ever known and she wasn't going to stop now. But it frightened Sharon sometimes. It frightened her a lot. As it had when she applied to Green Hill.

“What if I get in?” That scared her most of all and she told her father that. “I'm not like her, Daddy … I don't want to prove a point … to just get in … I want to have friends, to have a good time … what she wants me to do is too hard.…” Tears had filled her eyes and he understood. But he couldn't change either of them, Miriam and what she expected of them all, or the happy-go-lucky, fun-loving, beautiful girl, who was less like Miriam, and much more like him. She wanted to be an actress on the Broadway stage one day. And she wanted to go to UCLA.

“You can go there for your last two years, Shar,” her mother said, “after you pay your dues.”

“Why do I have to pay any dues at all?” she screamed. “Why do I owe anyone two years of my life?”

“Because you live here in your father's house, in a comfortable suburb of Washington, and you sleep in your nice, warm bed, thanks to us, and you've never known a life of pain.”

“So beat me, then. Treat me like a slave, but let me do what I want to do!”

“Fine.” Her mother's eyes had blazed black fire. “Do what you want. But you'll never walk proud, girl, not if all you think of is yourself. You think that's what they did in Little Rock? They walked every step of the way, with guns pointed at their heads, and the Klan itching for their necks every day. And you know who they did it for, girl? They did it for you. And who're you going to do it for, Sharon Blake?”

“Myself!” She had screamed before running up the stairs to her room and slamming the door. But the words had haunted her. Her mother's words always did. She wasn't an easy person to live with, or to know, or to love. She never made things comfortable for anyone. But in the long run, she made things good. For everyone.

Freeman Blake had tried to talk to his wife that night. He knew how Sharon felt, how badly she wanted to go to the western school. “Why don't you let her do what she wants for a change?”

“Because she has a responsibility. And so do I, and so do you.”

“Don't you ever think of anything else? She's young. Give her a chance. Maybe she doesn't want to burn for a cause. Maybe you do enough of that for all of us.” But they both knew that that wasn't entirely true. Sharon's brother Dick was only fifteen, but he was Miriam to the core, and he shared most of her ideas, except that his were angrier, more radical. No one was ever going to shove him down, and Freeman was proud of that, but he also recognized that Sharon was a different child. “Just let her be.”

They had, and in the end, the guilt had won, as she told Tana later that night. “So here I am.” They had been to dinner in the main dining hall, and were back in their room. Sharon in a pink nylon nightgown that had been a going away present from her best friend at home, and Tana in a blue flannel nightgown, her hair in a long silky ponytail as she watched her new friend. “I guess I'll go to UCLA after I finish here.” She sighed and looked at the pink polish she had just applied to her toes, and then looked up at Tana again. “She expects so damn much of me.” And all she wanted for herself was to be beautiful and smart and a great actress one day. That was enough. Except for Miriam Blake.

Tana smiled. “My mother expects a lot too. She's devoted her whole damn life to doing the right thing for me, and all she wants me to do is come here for a year or two, and then marry some ‘nice young man.’ “ She made a face which suggested she found it an unappealing idea, and Sharon laughed.

“Secretly that's what all mothers think, even mine, as long as I promise to crusade even after I marry him. What does your father say? Thank God for mine, he gets me off the hook whenever he can. He thinks all that stuff is a pain in the ass too.”

“Mine died before I was born. That's why she gets so excited about everything. She's always scared to death that everything's going to go wrong, so she clutches whatever security we have, and she expects me to do the same.” She looked strangely at Sharon then, “You know, actually your mother sounds more like my cup of tea.” The two girls laughed and it was another two hours before they turned off the lights, and by the end of the first week at Green Hill, the two girls were fast friends. They shared much of the same schedule, met for lunch, went to the library, went for long walks around the lake, talking about life, about boys, about parents and friends. Tana told Sharon about her mother's relationship with Arthur Durning, even when he was married to Marie, and how she felt about him. The hypocrisy, the narrow views, the stereotyped life in Greenwich with children and friends and associates all of whom drank too much, in a house that was all for show, while her mother slaved for him night and day, lived for his calls, and had nothing to show for it after twelve years. “I mean, Christ, Shar, it really burns me up. And you know the worst thing about it?” Her eyes smoldered like fiery green rocks as she looked at her friend. “The worst thing is that she accepts all that shit from him. It's all right with her. She'd never walk out on him, and she'd never ask for more. She'll just sit there for the rest of her life, grateful for all the menial things she does for him, totally unaware that he does nothing for her, while she insists that she owes everything to him. What everything? She's worked like a dog all her life for whatever she has, and he treats her like a piece of furniture.…”…
a paid cunt …
Billy's words still rang in her ears and she forced them from her head for the ten thousandth time. “I don't know … she just sees things differently, but it makes me mad as hell. I can't go around kissing his ass for the rest of my life. I owe my mother a lot, but I don't owe Arthur Durning a damn thing, and neither does she, but she just doesn't see it that way. She's so damn scared all the time.… I wonder if she was like that before my father died.…” Her mother often told her that she was a lot like him, and her face kind of lit up.

“I like my dad better than my mom.” Sharon was always honest about what she felt, especially with Tana. They had told each other countless secrets by the end of the first month, although the one thing Tana had said nothing about was the rape. Somehow she could never quite bring the words to her mouth, and she told herself that it didn't matter anyway, but a few days before the first dance was scheduled on Halloween with a neighboring boys' school, Sharon rolled her eyes and lay back on her bed. “So much for that. What do I do? Go as a black cat, or in a white sheet as a member of the Klan?” Girls were welcome to come to the dance alone, since it was to be held at Green Hill, which was fortunate since neither Sharon nor Tana had dates. Nor did they have any friends. The girls had all been careful not to get too close to her. They were polite to her, and none of them stared anymore, and all of the teachers treated her courteously, but it was almost as though they wanted to pretend that she wasn't there, as though by ignoring her, she would disappear. And the only friend she had was Tana, who went everywhere with her, and as a result, Sharon was Tana's only friend. Everyone stayed away from her too. If she wanted to play with niggers, she was going to find herself playing alone. Sharon had shouted at her about it more than once. “Why the hell don't you go play with your own kind!” She had tried to sound harsh but Tana had always seen through the ruse.

“Go to hell.”

“You're a damn fool.”

“Good. That makes two of us. That's why we get along so well.”

“Nah,” Sharon would grin at her, “we get along because you dress like shit and if you didn't have my wardrobe and my expert advice at hand you'd go out looking like a total jerk.”

“Yeah,” Tana grinned delightedly, “you're right. But can you teach me to dance?” The girls would collapse on their beds, and you could hear their laughter out in the hall almost every night. Sharon had an energy and a spunk and a fire about her that brought Tana back to life again, and sometimes they just sat around and told jokes and laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks and they cried. Sharon also had a sense of style which Tana had never seen before, and the most beautiful clothes she had ever seen. They were both about the same size and after a while, they just began to shove everything into the same drawers, and wear whatever came to hand.

“So … what are you going to be for Halloween, Tan?” Sharon was doing her nails a bright orange this time, and it looked spectacular against her brown skin. She glanced at the wet polish and then over at her friend, but Tana looked noncommittal as she looked away.

“I don't know … I'll see.…”

“What does that mean?” She was quick to sense something different in Tana's voice, something she had never heard there before, except maybe once or twice when Sharon suspected that she had hit a nerve, but she wasn't yet sure what that nerve was, or precisely where it lay. “You're going, aren't you?”

Tana stood up and stretched, and then looked away. “No. I'm not.”

“For heaven's sake, why not?” She looked stunned. Tana liked having a good time. She had a great sense of humor, she was a pretty girl, she was fun to be around, she was bright. “Don't you like Halloween?”

“It's all right … for kids.…” It was the first time Sharon had seen her behave like that and she was surprised.

“Don't be a party pooper, Tan. Come on, I'll put your costume together for you.” She began digging into the closet they shared, pulling things out and throwing them on the bed, but Tana did not look amused, and that night when the lights were out, Sharon questioned her about it again. “How come you don't want to go to the Halloween dance, Tan?” She knew that she hadn't had any dates yet, but so far none of them had. For Sharon it was a particularly lonely road, as the only black girl at the school, but she had resigned herself to that when she had agreed to come to Green Hill, and none of them really knew anyone yet. Only a few lucky girls had already won dates, but they were sure to meet a flock of young men at the dance, and Sharon was suddenly dying to get out. “Do you have a steady at home?” She hadn't mentioned it yet. Sharon thought it unlikely that she had held back, although there were some things they still hadn't shared. They had avoided the subject of their virginity, or lack of it, which Sharon knew was unusual at Jasmine House. It seemed as though everyone else was anxious to discuss their status as far as that went, but Sharon had correctly sensed Tana's reticence, and she wasn't anxious to discuss the subject herself. But she propped herself up on one elbow now and looked at Tana in the moonlit room. “Tan … ?”

“No, nothing like that.… I just don't like going out.”

“Any particular reason why not? You're allergic to men? … get dizzy in heels? … turn into a vampire after twelve o'clock? … although actually,” she grinned mischievously, “that might be kind of a neat trick on Halloween.”

In the other bed, Tana laughed. “Don't be a jerk. I just don't want to go out, that's all. It's no big deal. You go. Go fall in love with some white guy and drive your parents nuts.” They both laughed at the prospect of that.

“Christ, they'd probably kick me out of school. If old Mrs. Jones had her choice, they'd be fixing me up with Old Sam.” The housemother had several times looked patronizingly at Sharon, and then glanced at Sam, as though there were some kind of kinship between them.