Saving Savannah

by Tonya Bolden

  “Lemme speak with him.” Lloyd took the phone.

  “Lloyd here, Mister Riddle … Right now? … You got guns? … Unless you come with a posse I don’t think … Men with us now will see us to my house … Hello, you still there, Mister Riddle? … Mister Riddle? … In the morning … Right.”

  “But—” Savannah called out.

  “Yeah, Savannah?”

  Savannah shook her head. “Never mind.” She wanted nothing more than to be home, in her bed, but then across her mental sky came that bloodied man rounding that corner, followd by another, his shirt halfway torn off. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Father while trying to save her from Southwest.

  Lloyd handed the phone to Savannah.

  “Yes, Father … Yes … Yes, I feel very safe … Okay … I love you.”

  She hung up the phone. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Fletcher.” She turned to Spencer and the other men. “And I thank all of you for giving me a chance to—”

  “Riddle?” asked Mr. Fletcher. “You Wyatt Riddle’s girl?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He’s a good man. I’m a customer.”

  “Thank you, sir, again—and the woman who gave me a cloth, the glass of water, is that your Missus?”

  Mr. Fletcher nodded.

  “Please thank her too.”

  FLATIRONS, EVEN

  Night air a touch cooler.

  Eerie sounds in the distance.

  Street after street, stepping over, around broken glass, bricks, stones, pools of blood by moonlight and Millet post streetlamps, a dazed Savannah was spellbound by the sight of safety all around.

  Revolvers.

  Machetes.

  Shovels, wrenches, claw hammers, flatirons, even.

  Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing …

  Some men stood in doorways, on stoops.

  … like a strong man after sleep …

  Others paced rooftops with rifles, sawed-off shotguns.

  … shaking her invincible locks …

  Looking around in utter awe and astonishment at these men—

  Hell Fighters.

  The steady, strong strides of Joe, Jack, Reuben, Willie, Junius, Jake. Of Lloyd—

  My Hell Fighters.

  All this because some white woman said two Negroes tried to take her umbrella?

  Smoldering embers of anger coupled with a pride in a wider world of her people conquered fear.

  And Savannah suddenly remembered something, realized that it wasn’t just the white mobs to blame.

  There had been a recent rise in articles about Negro crimes and alleged crimes in certain newspapers.

  “POLICEMAN BATTLES WITH CRAZED NEGRO.”49

  “POSSES SEEK NEGRO WHO ATTACKED GIRL.”50

  And there were items warning white women to stay clear of Negro men, items urging white women to buy police whistles.

  And how many of those white women giving in to fear and loathing of Negro men were champing at the bit for more of their own kind to have the vote?

  “NEGRO ROUND-UP WILL CONTINUE.”51

  Methinks I see in my mind—

  Savannah tightened her grip on that lead pipe just as they turned onto the Walcotts’ block, where she was brought up short—they all were—by moaning, groaning.

  Balled up between two dented trash cans was a small figure.

  “Mister Walcott … Miss … Fine Lady.”

  MEWING HER MIGHTY YOUTH

  Bim had a swollen right eye, a busted lip, was clutching his right foot. There was blood around him.

  Embers of rage flared into a flame as Savannah cradled Bim in her arms. That’s when she felt a knot on his head.

  “Hold back a minute, Savannah,” said Lloyd.

  He ran his hands inside Bim’s clothes.

  “Not his blood.” He picked up Bim.

  Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth …

  “Ever grateful, fellas,” said Lloyd when they reached his building.

  A head popped out from an upstairs window. Nella. “Lloyd, that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank God!”

  In a flash Nella was downstairs, flinging open the door. Her hands flew to her face at the sight of Bim. “Dear Lord.”

  Then—

  “Miss Riddle, what are you doing here?”

  METHINKS I SEE

  “Auntie, a hot bath please.”

  Tight-lipped Miss Gertie placed a blanket on the cot.

  Lloyd laid Bim down. “And, Auntie, you got Epsom salts?”

  Miss Gertie nodded, then rushed down the hall.

  Nella put on the kettle.

  A dazed Bim moaned. Savannah watched as Lloyd gingerly removed his shoes, socks. The boy’s right ankle joint was horribly swollen.

  From the back of the apartment Savannah heard water running.

  Nella soon brought over a basin of warm water and some rags.

  “Let me,” said Savannah.

  She plunged the rag into the water, wrung it out. Gently she dabbed Bim’s cheeks, forehead, mouth, his eye, his bloodstained hands.

  “Lloyd, can I see you a minute in the back,” she heard Nella say.

  Savannah could tell Nella was fussing but couldn’t make out her words.

  Miss Gertie handed Savannah a cup of ginger tea. “This will help with the pain.”

  Savannah had just gotten Bim to take a few sips when Lloyd and Nella returned. Lloyd stepped over, scooped up Bim.

  Miss Gertie was soon nearby with a bundle. Out came an old bedsheet. She began turning it into bandages. When done she laid the strips of cotton at the foot of the cot.

  As Savannah, Nella, Miss Gertie sat around the table in the middle of the room sipping ginger tea, Savannah imagined that Lloyd had ever so gently removed Bim’s clothes, then eased him into the Epsom-salted water.

  Miss Gertie left the room again.

  When her mother was out of range, Nella whispered, “I’m so, so sorry, Miss Riddle. ”

  “Please, Nella, just Savannah. I’m not your mistress. I’m your cousin’s friend. And yours.”

  “Well, I’m sorry that Lloyd took you to that lecture. If it wasn’t for him, you would be safe in your home.”

  “I feel safe here,” Savannah whispered. Only then did she notice the dirt and bloodstains on the bottom of her skirt, the rips and stains on her blouse. And that her silk-and-cotton short-brimmed hat, her drawstring purse—gone.

  The hat. Left at Mr. Fletcher’s store?

  The purse. Dropped in that crevice of an alley?

  Handkerchief, compact, money, keys, needle-lace gloves, the purse itself. It could all be so easily replaced. So could her hat.

  “You must know Mummy and I have nothing to do with Lloyd’s politics,” said Nella. After a pause she added, “Mummy, she really need the work.”

  Mind on A-re-o-pa-git-i-ka, Savannah found Nella a little annoying. What is she going on about?

  “I will give you a clean-clean nightgown of mine and you can sleep in my bed.”

  Lloyd returned with Bim in a nightshirt, laid him on the cot.

  “Sleep is the last thing on my mind,” Savannah told Nella. “I want to sit up with Bim.”

  Miss Gertie returned, handed Lloyd a jar of black stuff. The label—IODEX—didn’t ring a bell. Some kind of ointment, she guessed.

  Lloyd drew the curtain around the cot.

  After Gertie and Nella retired, after Lloyd fixed himself a pallet on the floor, Savannah sat in that old broad-back mahogany-and-cane armchair.

  Watching over Bim.

  Reliving every second in that crevice of an alley.

  Reliving that cacophony from hell.

  The lull, then the sight of all those Hell Fighters.

  When Bim, ankle bound up, moaned, she stroked his brow. When he kicked off the coverlet with his good leg, she pulled it up.

  Methinks I see in my mind …

  What part in this great d
rama of the future are the Negroes of the Western world to play?

  Savannah gazed at the moon, at the stars watching over Bim too.

  WIDER BAND OF BLUE

  Savannah awoke to red, yellow bands of light layered beneath a wider band of blue.

  Later, after washing up, neatening her hair, she slipped into a dress of Nella’s a size too big, then shared a small breakfast with the Walcotts: a fried egg and a bready thing, a cross between a doughnut and a biscuit. Savannah had never tasted anything like it. And it tasted so good.

  After Miss Gertie shooed her away from clearing the breakfast things, Savannah marveled at how peacefully Bim slept.

  Arms wrapped around herself, Savannah stepped over to the window.

  Not too many bricks and stones littering the street. As far as she could see no streetlight busted. Whose blood was it that surrounded Bim last night? Had he been attacked on this block? Somewhere else? How far did he hobble or crawl before he collapsed a few feet away from the Walcotts’ building?

  Savannah leaned out when the black Buick pulled up. When Father got out of the car—

  “I’ll be right down,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Then to Lloyd, “Will you bring Bim down, please?”

  “For what?”

  “He needs a doctor. If his ankle isn’t seen to properly he could end up with a limp or something.”

  Lloyd frowned. “Nella, where’s the nearest doctor?”

  “Doc Nelson is over on—”

  “There are four or five within two blocks of my house,” said Savannah as she headed to the front door. “Also the man who serves as secretary and treasurer for my father’s firm is a doctor.”

  Doctors cost money. That’s what Nella had said months back. At the time Savannah had just thought, Well, yes, as if Nella had said people need air to breathe. Now she understood.

  Savannah was almost through the front door when Nella called out, hurried up to her with a brown paper bag. “Your clothes from last night.”

  EYES FACED FRONT

  Calm, steady as she walked down the steps. But at the sight of Father, Savannah began sobbing. She rushed into his arms, hugged him with all her might. “Oh, Father, I am so very sorry!”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

  Savannah turned back to the building, saw Lloyd carrying out Bim, faced Father again, saw his teeth on edge.

  “Mr. Riddle,” said Lloyd with a nod when he reached the black Buick.

  “Lloyd.” Mr. Riddle nodded back, his voice like the coming of thunder.

  “This boy needs a doctor,” Savannah told Father.

  She opened the back door.

  Lloyd laid Bim on the back seat.

  Savannah suddenly became alarmed. “What about his family? They’ll be worried sick.”

  “He live with his grandfather. Nice old man but he bewitch.”

  “Bewitch?”

  Lloyd tapped his temple. “I doubt he even know the boy gone. I’ll go round later, explain things.”

  About to get into the front seat, Savannah stopped. She stepped over to Lloyd, hugged him, kissed him on the cheek.

  Father’s eyes faced front when she got into the car.

  LORD CALVERT STEEL-CUT COFFEE

  Emerging from the black Buick, Savannah felt the weight of weary for the first time.

  She looked next door, saw Yolande in the window, waved.

  Mother flew from the house, gave Savannah a crushing hug. “My dear, dear darling girl.”

  Hugging Mother back, Savannah burst into tears.

  “Who is this?” Mother asked as Father lifted Bim from the back seat.

  “I’ll explain when we get inside,” replied Savannah.

  Father took Bim into the living room, laid him on the davenport, then went to the telephone.

  “Operator, Main 6060, please … Jonah, Wyatt here … It’s a long story, but I’ve got a little boy over here who got hurt last night … Scrapes and bruises, a knot on his head, but the major thing seems to be a busted ankle, which has been bandaged up … Not now … Hold on, I’ll ask.”

  “Savannah, was there any vomiting last night?”

  Savannah shook her head.

  “No vomiting, Jonah … Hold on, I’ll ask.”

  “Can the boy walk on the foot at all, Savannah?”

  Again Savannah shook her head. “But I don’t really know. Lloyd carried him everywhere.”

  “Jonah, we’re not sure … Uh-huh … Uh-huh … Appreciate it.” Father hung up the telephone.

  Mother held Savannah by the shoulders. “Come, I’ll draw you a bath, then you’ll take a nap.”

  “I need to stay with Bim.”

  “No, you don’t,” said Father. “I’ll sit with him until Dr. Galloway arrives.”

  Savannah was surprised, shocked really, by the tenderness, expected to get a real dressing-down, thought Mother, especially, would go on and on about …

  But there was none of that. Just the drawing of a bath, the helping her out of Nella’s clothes, the combing out of her hair when she entered her bedroom in her robe.

  And when Mother helped her into her bed, she got in too, cradled her in her arms. The last thing Savannah remembered was Mother stroking her face.

  There was no one in the living room when Savannah came downstairs in a housedress, her hair in that single thick plait that fell a long ways down her back.

  But coming from the kitchen were voices and the aroma of Lord Calvert steel-cut coffee.

  “Good day, Dr. Galloway.”

  “Good day, Savannah.”

  “Where’s Bim?”

  “Up in Charlie’s room,” said Father. “Asleep.”

  “How is he, Dr. Galloway?”

  “Not too bad. I’ve seen worse,” replied the doctor, with his stooped shoulders, handlebar mustache, bald pate save for a few wisps of gray on the sides. “Sprain. Not broken. I’ve rebound it up with this relatively new type of bandage, more breathable, reduces swelling better. They call it the Ace bandage.52 And I’ve given your parents instructions on—”

  “What is it that we need to do?” asked Savannah.

  Dr. Galloway looked at Mother, Father.

  “It’s fine, Jonah,” said Father. “Tell her what you told us.”

  Dr. Galloway took a sip of coffee. “First he needs plenty of rest—and feeding. The lad’s a little underweight.” Dr. Galloway winced. “His people?”

  “All he’s got is a grandfather,” replied Savannah. “And from what I understand, the old man is senile.”

  Dr. Galloway shook his head. “Pity.” He sighed. “For the ankle, keep it elevated.”

  “Rest, food, elevated,” said Savannah.

  “Yes, and if he seems in pain you can give him a Bayer, no more than three times a day. And ice the ankle about twenty minutes, every two, three hours until the swelling has gone.”

  “Place the ice over this Ace thing?”

  Dr. Galloway put down his cup. “Come, Savannah, I’ll show you how things are to be done.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Galloway.”

  They were back downstairs, Savannah handing him his coat and hat, then him picking up his black bag from the telephone table.

  Savannah walked him to the front door, watched him proceed down the walkway, readied, steadied herself for a talk she knew was coming.

  A WIDER WORLD

  With Mother and Father at either end of the kitchen table and her in the middle, Savannah told them how she first came to learn of Hubert Henry Harrison.

  His article that moved her, made her think.

  How when Lloyd told her about the lecture—

  “I just had to hear Mr. Harrison. Lloyd didn’t drag me there. It was my decision.”

  She told them, too, how thrilling an experience it had been.

  “I know you must have been worried sick last night when you returned home. And I’m sorry about that, but—”

  She was reminded of something Nella had said. “An
d please, know that Miss Gertie and Nella had nothing to do with it. They didn’t even know I went to the lecture until I turned up at their place.”

  Savannah rose from the kitchen table, walked over to the window. What she had to say was best said without being eye to eye with her parents.

  “I love you so very much, and I know how much you’ve done for me, how blessed I am, but the thing is I want a different life from what you want for me.”

  “And what is it that you think we want for you?” asked Mother.

  “A life like yours. Comfortable. Secure. Safe. But all of me churns for something else.” Savannah suddenly had the courage to face her parents. “I want a different life, a wider world.”

  A tear rolled down Mother’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  Mother shook her head, not in disgust or anger, but—Savannah couldn’t place it, puzzled over the linger in Mother’s gaze.

  Father moved to the chair Savannah had occupied, reached for Mother’s hand.

  Mother pulled out a handkerchief from her apron pocket.

  “I know you don’t understand. I know you must think me an ingrate … A while back—at my request—Lloyd took me to see alley dwellers and—”

  “Took you where?” asked Father.

  “Somewhere Southwest, a place called Beggars’ Bay. As I said, I asked him to. See, he gave me this book—”

  “Where else have you been with this Lloyd fellow?”

  “Nowhere else, Father. Just to see alley dwellers and last night.” Savannah swallowed. “My point is that … it’s so awful the way those people live. There must be a change! And if last night taught me anything, it’s that I must be part of that change! Part of making the world as it ought to be!”

  “And how do you propose to do this?” asked Father.

  “To be honest, I don’t know.” Savannah shifted from foot to foot, looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry if I’m a disappointment.”

  When she looked up she saw concern but not worry in Mother’s, in Father’s eyes.

  “You are strong willed,” said Father.