The Girl on the Outside (6 page)

She jumped out of bed and rushed to the front of the house. The doors were closed, blinds still drawn, but her parents were not around. Her heart pounded. Where could they be?

A loud knock on the front door alerted her. Her heart seemed to stand still. Then it beat as though it would come through her breast. She could not answer. Again the loud knock.

“Yes,” Eva finally said.

“It's me, Eva.” Eva recognized the voice of Mr. Charles, her neighbor. “Your daddy asked me t' keep a eye out. Everything's all right. I'm right here.”

“Did they go to the store?”

“They been gone. But everybody on the block's lookin' out for y'.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eva said through the closed door. She sighed. Why hadn't her mother awakened her, she thought. Left her to sleep all that time. She was annoyed.

It was almost ten o'clock and she hadn't sewn a stitch. She must hurry if she was to finish her dress.

Quickly she put on her clothes and swallowed a glass of fruit juice; it was too hot for food. She put up the sewing machine, wishing she could find a cool spot. But even outside, the sun had already invaded every bit of shade.

After putting up the ironing board to press all the seams, she got busy threading the bobbin. As she watched the thread quickly fill the space, her mind was whirling fast from one thought to another. Tanya, hope she's all right. Maybe Aunt Shirley'll come by t'day. That Cecil! “… being white time.” She laughed.
White gravy, ugh!
Wonder what it's gonna be like … with people I don't know at all?

Suddenly she realized that she had never eaten in the same place with white people in her life. Not in a cafe, at a soda fountain, in a home, at school … no place.

She remembered the times she used to go into the drugstore downtown with her Grandma Collins for medicine. How many times she had seen people sitting with tall glasses of ice cream sodas, or frosty Cokes and dishes of sundaes. Her mouth would water.

“Grandma, let's git one of them in a tall glass,” she said one day.

“You don't want that old ice cream,” her grandmother said. “That stuff's not nearly as good as what we'll make when we git home.”

Now Eva threaded the machine, thinking how long it had taken her to learn what her grandmother didn't have the heart to tell her: that she could not have ice cream at that counter simply because she was Negro.

As she pressed open the stitched seams, she was thankful she did not have to wait for irons to heat like some people who still did not have electricity. Takes too long. And it's too hot. Her mind again flashed to her grandmother. What would she think if she were alive?—
her granddaughter going to Chatman and her son sitting behind the door with a great big shotgun
.

Eva could see her grandmother now as she used to look coming down the dusty road from working in people's houses. Eva would rush to meet her and take the day-old newspaper and other packages her grandmother often brought: dresses, not new, but still good, and special goodies—lady fingers, chocolate cherries, and sometimes ham and cheese. Often, while Grandma Collins rested, Eva would read aloud to her the day-old news.

Maybe her grandmother would not be scared. Then she remembered the first time she had seen Grandma Collins break down and cry. Her grandmother was worried because her youngest son, Eva's Uncle Joe, had been put in jail, accused of stealing a diamond ring from a hotel room in which he had never been. Could someone accuse her like that at Chatman? She felt prickly with fear.

Then Eva heard laughter and footsteps. She looked up and her Aunt Shirley and Tanya were at the door. Eva screamed with delight. “Oh, Aunt Shirley, you won't believe it, but I was just thinking 'bout you and Grandma Collins.” She hugged Tanya. “And I was hoping you'd come home t'day.”

“You act like y'been 'way from each other a year, and it's been no mo'en a day. What y' thinkin' 'bout me and y' grandma?”

“Oh, just hoping you'd come by; and wondering what Grandma would think of my going to Chatman.”

“She'd probably be proud and scared. But she was one lady who stood up for what she b'lieved. Took no tea for the fever … wore no crepe for the dead. Really had a mind of her own.”

“Grandma was a lotta fun, you know. Remember how she used to like to dance? She thought dancing released all the demons and left the body free and relaxed. She knew something about almost everything. Wish she was here t' tell me what t' do now.”

Her Aunt Shirley said, “Now, I know she'd tell y' this: ‘Don't you go there, now, lettin' 'em sand y' down, and come back here not knowin' whether y' fish or fowl. Y' won't feel good with y' own people, and the other sho' won't feel good with you. You'll have
no
place, then.' That's what she'd tell y', Eva, and I hope you'll remember that.”

“My goodness, I'm getting that message from all sides. All I'm doing is going to school. You'd think I'd decided to pass for white.” Her voice broke and she was surprised that she was so upset.

Eva looked at Tanya who was standing wide-eyed, listening. “Tanya, go out and play.”

“Too hot out there.”

“It's hot in here, too. Go on.” Then she softened. “And when y' come back we'll make some lemonade.” She put her hands on Tanya's shoulders and steered her toward the door. At the door she bent and whispered, “I promise, you can put as much sugar as y' like, okay?”

Tanya grinned and went outside.

“Oh, Aunt Shirley, if things keep up the way they're going, I'll be a nervous wreck before t'morrow.”

“You'd better calm down, girl.”

“It's too much. You should've seen Daddy last night sitting there with that shotgun. Talk of bombin's. All because of us going to Chatman. What's wrong with people? I'm trying so hard not to be scared.”

“It's hard
not
t' be. Remember when y' first went t' Carver? Y' musta been scared then, eh?”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“Whole lot. But everything we do that's a little different help us t' git ready for things that's a lotta difference. Ain't no harm in bein' scared o' somethin' y' don't know 'bout. But just make up y mind y' gonna go and do the best y' can.”

“I … just wanta learn.…”

“Oh, but y' gonna do some teachin', too. They can learn as much from you as y' can learn from them. Otherwise, what's the point o' this integration?”

Eva picked up the bodice of her dress and sat at the sewing machine. The silence between her and her aunt was somehow sobering. She sighed. “And to think, after I'd first made up my mind, I was so happy and excited.”

“It ain't that bad, now. Go on, stitch y' dress and I'll help y' fit it,” her aunt said with enthusiasm.

As the dress was being fitted, Eva stood still but her mind was on what she might have to face, not only at school, but at home as well.

Finally, she said, “Aunt Shirley, I'm glad I have you to talk t'. I don't want to upset Mama anymore than she already is. But I don't know what to expect at that school. I'm just wondering if I'll know how to act.”

“Honey, you don't have t'
act
. Jist be! Now, me and your grandma, we
had
t' act. I can remember when I used to work in a house that had little children. As soon as the little girls passed twelve, I'd have t' start callin' 'em miss-so-en-so. Now mind y', no matter how old I got, I was still Shirley. Well, when they got 'round ten or so, I'd pick out some kinda sweet name for 'em, peaches, honey-chile, anything, jist so long as I didn't have t' call 'em no miss.”

“Aw, Aunt Shirley,” Eva laughed.

“Yeah, I did it. But you don't have t' go through all that. Y' as much student as anyone o' them. Jist be y'self, that's all!” She stepped back and looked at Eva to see how the dress fitted. “Eva, honey, that's a nice dress. You gonna knock 'em dead, girl.”

As Eva sewed the markings, she thought, As the pieces of this pattern have fallen into place, so will everything else. A smile spread over her face.

Chapter 7

Later that morning, Sophia rode with Burt as he drove through the main street headed toward the outskirts of town. Already the sun was blazing, and the air blowing in the open windows was hot and humid.

Sophia hugged the corner and squinted her eyes trying to shut out the glare of the bright sun. The air shimmered in waves, and the heat made a mirage on the road in the distance that looked like black ice.

She glanced at Burt out of the corner of her eye and as always was amazed at his relaxed composure. His one hand loosely held the steering wheel and his body seemed to be one with the machine. Had he ever taken a girl down to colored town, she wondered as she looked at him. What would he think of Arnold—taking her down there? Her father would probably call a conference with Reverend Armstrong if he knew.

She sighed and slumped in the seat. She wanted to talk to Burt, to ask him so many things. How could he know so much about Negroes? Had he ever been in one's house?

Looking out at the passing cars, she suddenly realized that many of them on the road had out-of-state licenses. She took note: Mississippi, Louisiana, Tennessee, and Mississippi again, and again. “Lots of people from Mississippi in town today,” she said.

“Yeah, I'm afraid trouble's brewing. Those visitors probably feel we won't be able to take care of ourselves come tomorrow and the school integration.”

“Oh, Burt, can you think of nothing but integration … I don't want to hear it.”

Burt laughed. “Okay, what
do
you want to hear?”

Sophia flushed. The tone of his voice let her know that he knew there was little else she wanted to know about. She sighed.

Burt looked at her and asked, “What happened with you and Arnold?”

“What'd you mean—what happened?”

“Come now. This is a holiday and he'll be leaving in a few days. Why are you spending a whole morning with a horse?”

“Grit needs some attention.” She sat with her eyes on the road, tense and alert to control every muscle.

There was no sound except the hum of the motor and of the tires on the road. She felt more than the heat from the sun. Cold sweat poured down her sides from under her arms and her scalp tingled. What
had
happened with her and Arnold?

She thought of how she had listened for the ring of the phone, hoping he would call. Why hadn't he? He had insulted
her
. “Have you ever been down in South End?” she asked Burt. The words coming from her lips surprised her.

“Many times. My work carries me all over.”

“I don't mean like that. I mean … go there like to … you know what I mean.”

Burt turned to her with a quizzical look on his face. “No, Sophia, I don't know what you mean.”

“Well, like to church. To hear them sing.”

“Oh, yeah. I've done that.”

“Would you take a girl there?”

“Of course, if she were a close friend.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

She slumped in the seat and did not look at Burt. She wanted to tell him what had happened with Arnold, but she was so ashamed now of the way she had acted. But then Arnold had not told her, or even asked if she would like to go.

“Why do you ask that?” Burt asked.

“Oh … nothing.”

“You know, when May and I were small, Mom and Dad used to take us over to a Negro college to concerts.”

Sophia sat up and placed her hands under her thighs on the edge of the seat.

“I remember how dressed up the people were,” Burt said. “And it always surprised me how dark some of them were and how some were as white as us. They all were together really having a great time.”

“Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah, we went there a lot. But they never came to our school or our church.”

“And you weren't scared?”

“No. They welcomed us. But here lately, I've wondered why they did. But I guess they knew already what I had to learn the hard way.”

Sophia waited, but he did not go on. She looked at him. He was in the mood that he was often in these days—serious, almost solemn. “What did you learn?” she asked.

“That there are so few real human beings in this world that we can't afford to miss out on knowing one because his or her skin is a different color.”

The car entered the dirt road that led to the stables where Grit was boarded. Soon they reached the gate and Sophia got out to walk the distance to the horses. She waved good-bye, thinking of what Burt had said, wishing she understood her brother, knew what he was about.

As she walked up the road, her mind was in a state of confusion. “So few human beings.” What did Burt mean? The world is full of human beings, she told herself. Why does he think they are so hard to find? And there are at least ten whites to one colored. One can relate to just so many people at a time. Anyway, she thought, Burt's weird.

The sun blazed down and sweat poured off the side of her face. The cotton shirt she wore clung to her back. Her old twill riding pants absorbed the moisture and she felt the cool dampness around her legs and thighs.

It was nearing ten o'clock when she reached the stables. The place was busy with riders taking advantage of the holiday. The air was close, humid with the sour smell of horses. To Sophia that air was sweet. As she passed between empty stalls she was surprised that so many riders were already on the trail. When she neared Grit's stall she whistled softly.

Grit turned his head toward her and Sophia quickened her step. They met at the edge of the stall and Grit looked her over with his bold questioning eyes, then flung his mane and lifted his arrogant head high.

Sophia laughed. “Oh, Grit,” she said, stroking his velvety upper lip, “you sweet devil. We're going out for some fun.”