The Girl on the Outside (5 page)

How would she manage, not seeing Cecil every day? She recalled the old saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” The way all the girls made eyes over Cecil, his heart could grow fonder, but for somebody else. What with all the talk about bombs and the thought of losing Cecil, she wondered if she would have signed if she had known then what she knew now?

She finished pinning the skirt and started in on the dress top using solid white cotton. She sighed, thinking somebody has to integrate schools sooner or later. Might as well be me
now
. Would it really make the difference her mother and Cecil thought it would? I'll show them, she vowed to herself. I'll not let going to Chatman swell my head and make me forget who I am.

Finally, all the dress pattern pieces were placed on the cloth. She called, “Ma, come check this before I start cutting, please.”

Her mother looked at the layout. “Eva, I don't think your skirt front is on the straight of that cloth.” Her mother quickly measured from the arrow printed on the pattern out to the edge of the material. “No, no, no! Unpin this. Do it right.”

“Aw, Mama,” Eva cried.

“Don't y' want that skirt t' hang right?”

“It'll hang all right. I don't wanta do all that over.”

“Listen, I won't have y' showin' up at Chatman lookin' tacky. Now, y' do it the way I showed y'.”

By the time the checkered skirt and the white bodice for the dress were cut out, the children had deserted the street, neighbors were settled for the night. Eva, feeling drained from the heat, started on the tedious work of basting. If only she had more time.

Her mother's friends departed and her mother went to bed. The house creaked in the silence. The cuckoo clock on the wall ticked loudly and Eva wondered when her father would be coming home from the store.

The lone saxophone player started in again. Eva felt the loneliness in his music as she basted the pieces together. The clock struck eleven. Why doesn't he come, she asked herself.

At last she heard her father's footsteps moving fast, almost running up the walk. He burst into the room and Eva was frightened by the look on his face.

“Turn off the light,” he said sharply as he closed the door and pulled the blinds.

“What is it, Daddy?” Eva cried.

Her father did not answer, but went on through to the back of the house. Eva followed in the dark. Her father rushed back up front and peeped through the blinds. “There a lotta cars in the streets. All with outta state licenses. I was followed by a carload from Mis'sippi,” her father whispered as Eva came back up front.

The clack-up, clack-up of her father loading his shotgun made a weird sound in the darkness. Eva's heart beat wildly with fear.

“Where's y' mama?” her father whispered.

“She's sleep. Should I get her?”

“No. Everything's all right.”

They listened in the dark. The long shotgun lay menacingly across her father's knees.

Finally, her father said, “You go on t' bed, now.”

“Lemme stay with you, Daddy,” she pleaded.

“Do what I tell y', now,” her father whispered firmly.

Eva lay in her bed listening to the sounds of the night. The sound of cars in the distance alerted her. She could not breathe freely until she was sure they were not nearing her door. In the stillness a lone mosquito zing-zing-zinged near her ear. She worried about her father, sitting in the darkness alone. Then she thought of Tanya. She was glad Tanya did not have to see their father with a shotgun on his knees. Even though the night was hotter than most she had seen, she lay shivering in the dark.

Chapter 5

Monday dawned. The morning light seeped through the open window of Sophia's bedroom. The curtains were not drawn, but not a bit of air coursed through. Another hot day aborning.

Sophia stirred, tossed about, then woke feeling the ill effects of troubled sleep. Desegregation, Burt's attitude, and now Arnold lay heavily on her mind—like the weight of a sleeping cat. She stretched and sighed, feeling sorry for herself.

She lay looking at the ceiling, her hands folded under her head, elbows near her ears, recalling how she'd been nasty to Arnold. The television had been on in her father's study and she had hoped to escape to her room unnoticed. She was not so lucky. When she reached her room her mother was there with quilt pieces spread over Sophia's bed.

“Back … so soon?” her mother asked.

“This heat tires me out, Mother,” Sophia said, trying to keep her voice and manner even, normal.

“Where's Arnold?”

“Home, I guess.”

“You should have asked him in for some of the ice cream we made.”

Sophia said nothing and slumped into a chair with her legs outstretched.

Her mother went on laying the pieces to determine how many more were needed to finish the quilt. She glanced at Sophia. “You all right, dear?”

“I'm fine, Mother,” she said drawing herself upright. She smiled. “That's going to be the prettiest of all the quilts you've made. Wish it were mine.”

“It's for your dowry. Hope we'll have time to get it finished.” She looked at Sophia, winked, and laughed.

Sophia flushed, “Aw, Mother, girls don't have dowries, anymore. You know that.”

“Well, for your hope chest, then.”

Now Sophia turned onto her side. Hope chest, she thought, and grimaced. Her mind wandered to the things she had been collecting since she was sixteen. They were stored in an ebony cedar-lined chest: two silk sheets, hand-embroidered pillow slips, imported linen luncheon sets and a fine lace tablecloth … all carefully stored to be unpacked only after her wedding in her own house. And that Arnold! It could have been a perfect evening. Suddenly she felt angry. Then his face above the white collar of the choir robe appeared in her mind's eye as it had been when he asked, “At seven?”

It was not going to be easy. Why couldn't I have gone into that church? she asked herself. But he had no right.
If only he had told me
. She remembered the warm gentleness and the look in his eyes when he had said, “I've never come here with anyone else before.… I care about you.…” Her heart leaped and she went cold at the thought of living with her feelings about Arnold. Oh, I was a fool not to trust him, she cried to herself.

Anxious and miserable, she turned out of bed and stood by the window looking into the distance. The stillness of the house blended with the quiet of this Labor Day morning. The pale sky, almost silver, had a smattering of feathery, salmon-pink clouds forecasting the rising sun. Dew sparkled on the grass, refreshing the morning, forestalling the heat of the coming day.

The whole of yesterday crowded in on her and she remembered crying on Arnold's shoulder. Again the words “I care about you …” pushed all other thoughts aside. She went back to bed thinking, he'll call and everything will be all right.

She lay trying to clear her mind of all thought but her mind would not obey. If only it wasn't happening, she said to herself as the nine Negroes flashed before her mind's eye.

Finally, there was a blank—darkness. Then she was alone on a long trail that led over a low-lying hill. On each side of the trail small dry bush stubbornly spread out far and wide all over the valley. The trail led to a place where Sophia knew she was forbidden. But it was a place where she had always wanted to go.

As she walked along, she felt tranquil. She was almost to the hill before she encountered any living thing. Then she passed a woman hidden behind a parasol. Sophia could see only a dingy dress and an apron that covered the woman's ankles, but she knew that the woman was colored and that she was very old. She met two more women just like the first, and not once did the women speak or show themselves. But Sophia was not alarmed as she went on up the hill.

Suddenly, she was on a dusty, rutted street. The heat was almost unbearable. Gleaming white rocks made fences around some houses, while similar rocks were used for walks up to the doors of others. All porches had little kilns glowing with charcoal. There were no people or other living things, but she knew someone was waiting for her. Complete silence made a weird sound in her ears, like the bursting foam of a million soap bubbles.

At last she saw Letha standing in a doorway. Immediately Sophia knew it was Letha who had been waiting. She felt a burst of warm friendship, a happiness such as she had never known. But suddenly Letha disappeared and a crowd of ugly children sprang through the door and captured Sophia. Sophia kicked and screamed. But they quickly overpowered her. Though she twisted and turned she could not get away. They dragged her screaming into the dark hot house.

Darkness and heat bound Sophia as she struggled to come up to the light. Turning and twisting, she finally sprang up. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and she was wet with sweat.

The sunlight streamed through her window. A bluejay was chattering at a mockingbird who was mimicking a cat. All of these familiar sounds assured her she was in her room, at home, safe. Still she lay shivering, even though her room was warm from the invasion of the early morning sun.

What an awful dream! Why were so many things happening to upset her! Negroes had never been important in her life. They will not be now, she told herself.

She bounded out of bed and moved about the room, drawing blinds to shut out the morning light. Already the heat drove her in for a cool shower.

In the shower she realized it was a holiday and she had nothing planned. If only she hadn't been so hasty. “… never want to see you again.” Maybe she should call Arnold and suggest they go horseback riding.
Never
. But if
he
called, maybe.

As she dressed to go down for breakfast, the phone rang. Her heart raced wildly and she hurriedly threw on her robe so she would be ready to answer. She listened at the head of the stairs, hoping. Burt was talking to someone.

Disappointed, she took her time dressing, then sauntered into the kitchen. With Ida away, it was every man for himself. Her father sat hidden behind the paper. His plate with the remnants of toast and bacon rinds had been pushed aside. He grunted a response to her “Good morning.”

Half-eaten, too-brown, Swiss cheese toast, and three fourths of a cup of coffee indicated that Burt's breakfast had been interrupted by the phone call. Sophia felt a tinge of anger as she stirred about making toast and hot chocolate. Ida should be here to get breakfast, she thought. Yet any other time, even if Ida was there, Sophia would fuss about the kitchen, anyway.

But this morning she was upset. Only mother would give the help
two days
in a row. Grandma Sophie never would have. Grandma's motto: Train a servant the way you want her to go, and hold a firm rein. That's the way she would run
her
house, Sophia thought, as she rushed to retrieve her burning toast.

She threw out the burnt toast, disgusted with herself. Finally, she asked, “Where's Mother?”

“She's off to bathe in the hot springs today,” her father said, turning the pages of his paper.

“Looks like I'll have to work today,” Burt said, sliding in in front of his cheese toast and coffee. “Something's cooking out there and I'm afraid it's not kosher.”

“The governor's speaking to us tonight,” her father said.

“I hope he says something worth listening to,” Sophia said.

“The only thing I'm waiting to hear is that a restraining order has been issued on that gutless school board,” her father said.

“Could a restraining order keep those Negroes out, Dad?” Sophia asked.

“Judge Pomeroy can keep them out. If he wants to!”

“I doubt if he wants to,” Burt said. “He takes his federal judgeship seriously.”

“He can be had. We'll see what the governor says.” Their father took the paper and left the kitchen.

Sophia sat at the table wondering if her father was right. Could they really call a halt to the integration? She hoped so.

“What are you up to today, Soph?” Burt asked.

“I don't know. I might go ride my horse. Grit is getting so lazy and spoiled.”

“I'm going out toward the stables. If you're ready in time, I'll give you a ride. You need a lift?”

“Yeah, that'll be great.”

“Oh,” Burt said, “What happened to your chauffeur?”

“What chauffeur?”

“Arnold,” he said and smiled.

“Oh, please!” She felt the flush rising and jumped up from the table. She turned away trying to stop it. “Just don't mention him to me today, okay?”

The phone rang. Her heart stood still and her hands went cold. “Get that, Burt,” she said.

“You get it. It's for you, I know.”

“Please, get it.”

She sat trembling hoping it was, then hoping it was not Arnold. What could she say now if he called and asked her to do something after what she had just said. Would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself?

“For you,” Burt called.

She sat still.

He came into the kitchen. “For you, Sophia.”

“Who is it,” she whispered.

“Some girl. Sounds like Marsha.”

It
was
Marsha. “Hi, What's up?” Sophia asked, feeling both annoyed and relieved. She was a classmate who suggested that Sophia join her and some more of their classmates at the skating rink around six-thirty. They would skate and talk on this last day of summer vacation.

Sophia agreed. She needed to talk to someone to help her sort out things.

Chapter 6

Eva woke with a start. Her first thought was that she hadn't been asleep at all. She was surprised that the sun was high, the room like an oven. Children were playing in the street, neighbors' pots and pans were clattering. Breakfast was already finished and preparations were underway for the noonday meal. Suddenly Eva remembered last night.