More Than Rivals

by Ken Abraham

  “Go ahead and take the car,” Betty said. “We’re not going anywhere tonight.” She looked over at Jim, slumped on the couch in front of the television.

  Eddie gratefully picked up the keys to the family car—a two-toned, four-door Buick LeSabre—and drove the old vehicle toward the Hamiltons’.

  After a short drive out of town, Eddie pulled the clunker up the Hamiltons’ long red-gravel driveway, passing white painted fences enclosing lush green fields where sleek, well-groomed horses grazed. With the sun setting over the hillside behind the Hamilton home prominently positioned at the back of the plantation, the scene looked as though it could have come straight out of Gone with the Wind. He parked the car in the grass and walked the remaining distance to the enormous Southern colonial-style mansion, replete with a huge front porch and tall white columns.

  Eddie made his way up the wide steps leading to the ornate entrance. An elderly Negro butler with a neatly trimmed mustache and dressed in a white tuxedo jacket, bow tie, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes greeted Eddie at the door. Eddie couldn’t help but notice that the help was dressed better than he was.

  “Good evening, sir,” the butler said kindly but formally. “May I help you?”

  Eddie reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the invitation to Missy’s party. “Howdy,” Eddie said, smiling. “I’ve got this.” He waved the invitation so the butler could see it.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Welcome.” The butler stepped aside so Eddie could pass. He opened the door and Eddie eased into the foyer. The scene in front of him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the high rotunda-style ceiling. Huge paintings rested on the walls and Persian rugs were located strategically on the hardwood floors. The scent of flowers filled the house. Eddie gawked in amazement. Although he and Missy were considered a couple at school, he had never visited her home. He was overwhelmed.

  A crowd of formally dressed men and women, mostly adults but a few high school and college-aged young people, engaged in chitchat in the foyer and front rooms of the house. Many of the men sported tuxedoes; the women wore formal gowns or cocktail dresses. Eddie stepped into the living room, where an even larger crowd was laughing and talking. A number of people were also dancing to the sounds of “Tennessee Waltz” played by a string quintet.

  Eddie tugged awkwardly at his collar, then fiddled with the waistband of his dress pants, trying to make sure the pant legs were indeed long enough. He walked past several sophisticated Southern belles, none of whom paid any attention to him. A middle-aged Negro waitress carrying a tray filled with glasses of champagne stopped beside him, waiting for him to make his selection. Eddie wasn’t sure what was in the glasses, but he noticed the smell of alcohol. “Do you have any Cokes?” he asked.

  “Yes, suh,” she said. “I will get you one. Right away, suh.”

  “Oh, there’s no rush,” Eddie said. “Just whenever you have time. I’ll be here for a while.”

  The waitress looked at Eddie oddly. “Yes, suh.”

  Then Eddie noticed Missy, dressed in her Southern-belle best, conversing with a group of well-dressed, college-aged friends. She slowly weaved her way through the flock of her admirers, moving in his direction.

  “Hey, Missy!” Eddie called out, waving his hand high and then quickly pulling down his arm, embarrassed. Missy spotted him and rushed over. She gave Eddie a formal hug and held out her hand, intending for Eddie to kiss it. Eddie misunderstood her gesture and shook Missy’s hand instead.

  “It’s about time, Eddie Sherlin,” she said with a breathy Southern drawl. “I was beginning to think you were going to let me down.”

  “Oh . . . no,” Eddie said. “Had a little problem with my suit.” Missy looked him up and down, from head to toe. She moved close to him—so close he could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume—and straightened his tie. “Well, now, you look fine to me.” She smiled flirtatiously. “Look at you . . . all dressed up and proper. Ain’t you just the cutest thing?” She tugged on his coat sleeve and then clutched his hand. “Come on. Let’s go in the other room. My brother is home from college for a few days. He came in special for my birthday. I want you to meet him and some of his friends.”

  Missy pulled Eddie into another room, which was also filled with people. Feeling bashful and unsure of himself, Eddie stumbled along behind her, trying not to step on her dainty white shoes. Missy drew him over to a group of white, college-aged men, all dressed in Southern Ivy-League blazers and white or beige slacks. A group of admiring young debutantes, also white, hung on the college boys’ every word.

  Missy tapped the shoulder of a tall, immaculately dressed college man who was entertaining a fawning group of young men and women. “Charles, this is Eddie, the fella I’ve been telling you about. Eddie, this is Chuckie, my older brother.”

  “Hello, Edward,” Charles said. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Eddie extended his hand, but Charles ignored him, continuing on with his speech to his rapt admirers. “I told Daddy that my degree from Duke law school was not going to impress anyone in New York City, but he, of course, insisted . . .”

  Embarrassed, Eddie pulled his hand away, looking around to see who saw the rebuff and pretending he had never really intended to shake hands with Charles. He stood to the side, squirming. The rich-kid conversations bored him. The banal banter was all about academics, law and medical schools, banking and finance. Charles’s friends eyed Eddie condescendingly and disinterestedly, as though pitying him. A member of Charles’s group gave Eddie’s outfit the once-over and smirked, with mocking disapproval apparent on his face.

  Eddie noticed the man’s arrogant stare and averted his eyes. Another of Charles’s friends flirted with Missy right in front of Eddie, filling his comments with the sort of sexual innuendo that must have been common and accepted on his Ivy League campus.

  Eddie blanched in shock when he heard the cad’s comments and then bristled with anger. He was about to have a word with him, when he noticed Missy was basking in the attention, eating up every word, laughing at his off-color jokes, touching his arm, and flirting right back with him. Still, that was no way to speak to a lady, and Eddie stepped forward to let the collegian know it.

  But just then, Missy’s father, Charles Hamilton Sr., a distinguished-looking man in his early fifties, dressed in a white suit with a red pocket handkerchief, swept into the room with several of his rich male friends. “There’s my birthday girl,” he said loudly. The crowd of young men around Missy immediately stepped back in the presence of her father, not so much out of respect, but so he might notice them.

  Without greeting Eddie, Mr. Hamilton continued his conversation with the men accompanying him. “Yes, sir, this boy hit a shot almost from half-court,” he nodded toward Eddie, as though he were a mannequin propped up in front of him. “He makes those thirty-footers look as easy as a layup,” Mr. Hamilton continued, raving about him. “Isn’t that right, Eddie?” Hamilton asked, catching Eddie off guard.

  The men surrounding Missy’s father laughed. Eddie shrugged awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say, so he tried to smile, but he could feel the blood flushing his face.

  It didn’t matter. Mr. Hamilton clearly did not expect him to speak. In fact, he was already rambling on, talking about Eddie as though he were a racehorse he was considering for purchase. “Yes, boys, that kid right there—what is he, five-ten, five-eleven?—he can jump higher than any man his size I have ever seen. The boy can dunk a basketball! He’s something special, all right. He’s got a pair of colored legs on him. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he doesn’t have some black blood running through his veins.”

  Eddie stepped back from the conversation, nearly bumping into a Negro waitress serving appetizers behind him. As soon as he saw her, Eddie not only felt embarrassed, he felt sorry for her, hoping she hadn’t heard Mr. Hamilton’s insensitive remarks. If the woman had heard his comments, she had given no outward i
ndication, but Eddie detected hurt in her eyes. He took another step away from Mr. Hamilton.

  “Yes, sir, five-foot-ten, and the boy can dunk that ball. Amazing—”

  “Daddy!” Missy broke in. “You’re embarrassing Eddie with all those grandiose comments. He’s much more than a basketball player, you know.”

  “Nonsense!” Hamilton railed. “We’re mighty proud of your basketball abilities, Eddie.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Eddie muttered, but Hamilton wasn’t listening. One of his friends jumped into the conversation.

  “Where are you going to play college ball, son?” the friend asked.

  “I’ve already signed with the University of Tennessee. Mr. Bill Battles, a fine Christian gentleman, recruited me to play football, basketball, and baseball.”

  “You got scholarship offers in all three sports?”

  “Yes, sir,” Eddie said, sheepishly.

  “That’s unheard of! How are you going to play three sports at the college level?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. First, I’ve got to get my grades up.”

  “Ha, you don’t need grades when you can play ball the way you can, son. Don’t you worry none about those grades. You just take good care of yourself and stay in shape.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll sure try to do that.”

  “Where did your folks go to school?” another of Hamilton’s friends asked.

  “Well, they went to high school, but they never had a chance to go to college. They’ve had to work real hard and all,” Eddie said.

  Hamilton’s friend nodded condescendingly. “Of course they have.”

  Missy’s father boomed, “U. T. thinks they have Eddie signed, sealed, and delivered, but we’re getting this boy over to Duke. Come this time next year, he’s gonna be a Blue Devil. Right, Eddie?”

  “Well, I’m committed at Tennessee—”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. U. T. is so big they won’t even know you’re gone.”

  “Well, I . . .”

  Again, Hamilton wasn’t listening. He was already immersed in another conversation with his fellow bloated egos, each bandying bombastic statements to impress his peers. Eddie slipped farther behind Missy and tried to stand out of the way.

  As the party went on, Eddie followed behind Missy like a loyal puppy. She relished the attention lavished on her by the college boys, and she seemed quite impressed with their sophisticated conversational skills, so after a while, Eddie simply sat down on a couch and watched the spectacle. In addition to all the puffery, Eddie particularly noticed the way the white guests treated the Negro waiters and waitresses. Or, more accurately, how they did not treat them, often not even acknowledging them as human beings but simply as hired help, expecting them to serve and clean up after the guests, without a word of thanks or appreciation. It didn’t seem right to Eddie.

  While Missy flitted from guest to guest, Eddie amused himself by taking a few popped champagne corks from a tray and tossing them into a large, empty wine glass someone had left on a coffee table. “Swish!” Eddie said with a laugh every time he sank another cork. When he had loaded the wine glass full, he retrieved the corks and began shooting all over again.

  At one point, he went into the bathroom, and when he came out, Missy was gone. Eddie walked down a hallway, sidestepping a waiter who was hurrying past him with a tray loaded with empty drink glasses on his way to the kitchen. When Eddie’s eyes followed the waiter into the kitchen, he spotted the familiar face of a woman washing dishes at the sink. He looked more closely, peering down the dimly lit hallway.

  Sure enough, he recognized the woman. It was Anna Ligon, Bill’s mother. She was dressed in a maid’s uniform, busy helping with the party. Eddie stepped into the kitchen as Anna sprayed a large pan with hot water, the spray dousing her apron as well.

  “Mrs. Ligon?”

  “Yes?” Anna turned toward Eddie.

  “Do you remember me?”

  Anna squinted in Eddie’s direction.

  “I’m Eddie. Eddie Sherlin.”

  “Oh my goodness, Eddie! I didn’t recognize you!” Anna hadn’t seen Eddie in years, except for the occasional photo in the newspaper that Bill or Tyree pointed out to her. She knew he was a star athlete at Gallatin because, although the boys didn’t really follow him specifically, they were always looking in the newspaper, hoping to see a picture of themselves. But they couldn’t help but notice Eddie and occasionally would remind Anna of when they had all played together in the park adjoining their home.

  Anna dried her hands on a dish towel and stepped over to give Eddie a quick hug. “It is so good to see you,” she said. “Honey, look at you! All grown up now.” She looked Eddie up and down, not at all put off by his outfit. “You are quite the handsome gentleman these days.”

  Eddie looked down bashfully. “Thank you, Mrs. Ligon. I’m feelin’ a little out of place here.” Eddie made a sweeping motion with his hands.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Anna said.

  Eddie quickly changed the subject. “How are Bill and Tyree doin’?”

  “They are just fine. Like you, all grown up already. That Bill keeps growin’ like a weed. I can’t hardly keep him in clothes that fit. He’s over six foot three inches tall now.”

  “I know,” Eddie said. “I saw him play against White House. He was blocking shots all night. I didn’t get a chance to talk with him, though, after the game. You know how they whisk everyone out of the gym so fast.”

  “Yes, I do,” Anna said wistfully. Of course, they didn’t whisk away the white players, only the Negroes. But she knew that wasn’t Eddie’s fault. “Oh, I heard about your brother’s awful accident a few years ago. I’m sure sorry about that. How is he doing these days?”

  “He’s doing okay. Not good, but okay. It’s hard to understand why those bad things happen sometimes. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  Anna nodded. “I know what you mean. The Lord allows us to go through some difficulties in life. But he always sees us through.”

  Eddie smiled at Mrs. Ligon’s great attitude. He admired her faith. “Yeah, he sure does.”

  “And how is your mother, Eddie? Is she still selling encyclopedias?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s still at it. Not as often now, since Bo got hurt, but she’s still selling.”

  “I expect that I still owe a fortune or two before I ever get outta debt on that deal.” Anna laughed. “But the boys and Delores have used the books all through school, so it was a good investment.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It sure helped me too.” Both Anna and Eddie chuckled.

  “The time certainly has flown by,” Anna said. “It seems like yesterday when you boys were out playin’ ball over at the park and at Cousin Ella Lee’s.”

  “Yep. Sure does.”

  “Funny how things work in this town,” Anna said. “You move five miles away and you’d think you moved all the way to the moon.”

  Eddie nodded, recalling how he had rarely seen Bill since both of their families had moved away from the old neighborhood.

  “But Bill kept up with you in the newspapers. He was always sayin’, ‘Hey, Mom, look what Eddie did. Broke this record. Broke that record.’ I think in his own way, Bill is proud of you.”

  Eddie was genuinely surprised and happy that Bill hadn’t forgotten about him and had kept track of him throughout their high school careers.

  “That’s really nice, Mrs. Ligon. I saw the scores, but I didn’t see much else from Bill’s games.” They both knew the paper simply didn’t cover Union the same way it covered the white schools in the area.

  “Oh, that’s all right. Bill understands that,” Anna said. “I’d better get back to work now, but it certainly is good to see you, Eddie.”

  “Work? Huh? Oh . . . yeah. It sure is good to see you too. Please give my best to Bill, and tell him I hope to see him one of these days real soon.” Eddie glanced back toward the main part of the house. “I guess I’d better go find my date,” he said with a lau
gh.

  “Have fun,” Anna said.

  “You too, Mrs. Ligon . . . er, ah, well, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, Eddie,” she said with a warm smile. “I do.”

  “Before I go, let me help you with those.” Eddie nodded toward the large stack of dishes still sitting aside the sink.

  “Oh, no, Eddie. That wouldn’t be good.”

  Eddie motioned back toward the living room. “They won’t even know I’m gone, ya see what I’m sayin?”

  Out in the living room, several Negro waiters wheeled a large birthday cake through the crowd of festive onlookers, many of whom had drunk too much alcohol. Mrs. Hamilton, an attractive and stylish woman, stood along with Mr. Hamilton. “Let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to our marvelous daughter, Missy!” Mrs. Hamilton began singing and the group joined her. Missy stood in the center of the room, her hands at her sides, beaming in one direction and then another as the well-wishers sang to her. She dipped down in a slight curtsy and then leaned low to blow out the candles on the cake, to the applause of the crowd. Missy acknowledged the smiles and approving nods of everyone around her, noting especially the exuberance of the college boys. She flashed a broad smile to them as the Negro waitresses moved in to begin cutting the cake. But when Missy looked around, she couldn’t spot Eddie in the crowd.

  She searched for him through several rooms, accepting hugs and birthday wishes as she went, but she still didn’t see him. Almost on a whim, she leaned into the kitchen. To her surprise, she saw Eddie sitting at the kitchen table drying dishes and laughing with one of the help. Missy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an O.

  “Eddie!” she shrieked as though she had seen a ghost.

  “Oh, hi, Missy. How’s the party going?”

  Missy looked at Eddie quizzically. “I’m going to open my presents now. Don’t you want to join us?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. Okay, I’ll be right there.” Eddie looked at Anna. “So long, Mrs. Ligon.”

  “Good-bye, Eddie. And thanks again for your assistance. You’ve saved me a great deal of time and work.”