Have No Shame

by Melissa Foster

  Mama had baked a meatloaf, fresh biscuits, and green beans. Maggie’s favorite.

  “Tell me about New York.” I was excited to hear about the big city. She was so far away and all I could think about was how scared I’d be, movin’ away from Mama and Daddy and startin’ a life without knowin’ they were right around the corner.

  Maggie’s eyes lit up. “It’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. There are a million people, and I swear the noise never stops.” Maggie poked at the vegetables. She had yet to take a bite.

  “Do you have many friends?” I asked. Sometimes I wondered if it was easier to make new friends than to try and reignite friendships with those I’d left behind because of datin’ someone older. I wasn’t even sure I’d want to rekindle those relationships, given how much I’d changed. Reinventin’ yourself to be seen as the person you wanted to be, rather than the person everyone had known since the day you were born, sounded excitin’ to me—and terribly scary.

  “Does she ever not?” Jake smirked. My parents gave him a not now look. “What? Well, doesn’t she?”

  “That’s enough, Jake,” Daddy said. “Maggie, tell us about your classes. Are you learnin’ a lot?”

  She nodded, drawin’ her eyebrows together, as if she were thinkin’. She looked at Jake and said, “I have lots of friends. Everyone is real nice.”

  “That’s good, honey,” Mama said, and patted Maggie’s arm.

  Maggie tilted her eyes toward Mama and smiled.

  “How about your classes, Maggie?”

  Maggie set her fork down. She looked at Daddy, pulled her shoulders back, and said, “They’re alright, Daddy.” Her words were flat. I detected a lie.

  Tension thickened in the room.

  “Grades? Are you doin’ okay?” he asked, starin’ into her eyes.

  She held his gaze. “Yes, I’m doin’ fine.” Maggie picked up her fork again, droppin’ her eyes to her plate. I watched her draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly through her full lips. “There’s so much more to New York than school and grades, and there’s so much more to life, Daddy.”

  The room grew silent. I watched Daddy’s face tighten. I looked at Maggie, flabbergasted. What was she doin’? I knew our parents had saved every penny to send Maggie to New York, and Daddy had fought sendin’ her “into the big city” with ferocity. Maggie had been too much for him. She knew when to turn on the charm, “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll make you proud,” and when to push, “Come on, Daddy, what’s wrong with a woman gettin’ an education?” In the end, I think Daddy got tired of fightin’ and let her go.

  My father cleared his throat. “Meanin’?” he asked.

  “Meanin’—” Maggie’s eyes danced around the room, much to my chagrin, they settled on me. I loved Maggie but I hated bein’ pitted between her and Daddy, and somehow, things always ended up that way. I played with my fork, holdin’ her stare. The air electrified between us. I knew nothin’ good was about to happen. Maggie’s lips spread into a wide grin. “There’s so much goin’ on out there. Music, clothin’,” she grasped the edge of the table with both hands, her voice risin’ in excitement. “People. The people are talkin’, livin’ like they love life, sharin’ time, information.” She turned to face our father, shakin’ her head. “This town, Daddy,” she laughed under her breath. “It’s…it’s way behind the times—”

  “That’s enough Maggie,” he interrupted her.

  Maggie stood up, then walked around the table and stood behind my chair, grabbin’ my shoulders with both hands. Her grip was strong, thrillin’. “Things are happenin’, Pix, big things. Things you could never imagine.”

  “Like you losin’ your mind?” Jake laughed.

  “Margaret Lynn, sit back down.” My father’s voice was calm, steady, forceful. Mama sat in silence, the edges of her lips slightly raised, her pride-filled eyes on Maggie, her napkin clenched in her hand. I shook in my seat, afraid of what Daddy might say. I had no idea what Maggie meant by the things she said, but I wanted to know so badly that I had to clench my teeth to remain silent.

  Maggie walked around the table, swingin’ her hands dramatically from side to side, her chin tilted upward. “There’s a whole world out there. I know you’ve heard about it,” she lowered her chin and locked eyes with our father. “On the radio?”

  “I said that’s enough Margaret.” If fumes could come from a person’s ears, the dinin’ room would have been filled with smoke.

  “Civil rights,” she said, as if she were answerin’ her own question

  Civil rights? Civil rights was not a topic discussed in the Tillman household. We knew what we heard on the radio in those moments before Daddy turned it off. Daddy was quick to shoot down our questions. Things are just fine ‘round here. We don’t need no trouble brought on by some trouble-makin’ coloreds. When somethin’s not broke, why fix it? I knew there were marches and speeches goin’ on in other places, and Jake and I knew better than to ask questions or bring up what we’d heard in school or picked up by scannin’ the newspapers. Maggie was another story. She reveled in challengin’ Daddy.

  Maggie leaned against her chair, watchin’ Daddy with a dare in her eyes. Tension thickened in the small room. Silence ensued, until finally Maggie looked like she might burst.

  “The civil rights movement is on, Daddy, and—” She drew out the word “on” like it was magnified.

  “That’s it, Margaret Lynn. I’ll have no more of this disrespect.” My father threw his napkin on the table and stood up.

  “You can’t shelter them forever, Daddy,” Maggie taunted him.

  I cringed.

  “There’s a whole world out there, and they should know about it. They should live it, Daddy.”

  My father grabbed Maggie by the arm and dragged her outside. We remained at the table. Mama cleared her throat, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and lowered her eyes. A piece of me wished she’d stand up for Maggie, but I knew if there was one thing Daddy didn’t stand for it was disrespect, and if Mama had spoken up, Lord only knew what argument might follow. I’d been watchin’ Mama carefully since seein’ her with Albert’s mother, and I’d decided that she picked her battles. She may have been one of the smartest women I knew, and at that moment, while Daddy yelled at Maggie out on the front porch, and Maggie yelled back, I wished she’d taught Maggie that same tact. I don’t think I could have left the table if I wanted to. No one spoke to Daddy that way. Daddy wasn’t a hittin’ man, but the threat of losin’ Daddy’s favor was enough to usually keep my words in check. Bein’ in Daddy’s favor was like havin’ the sun shine down on you, radiatin’ with warmth and smothered in love. Mama and Jake never sassed him, either. Mama was just raised that way, and I think Jake took his cue like I did, from whatever lay behind Daddy’s eyes when he was angry—a silent threat that hung in the air, and though I was never quite sure what was at the end of that threat, I was afraid for Maggie.

  That evenin’, as Daddy listened to the news on the radio and Mama read on the couch, Maggie and I remained in our room. Maggie paced, her arms crossed, her face tight.

  “As much as I love comin’ home to see you, Pix, I hate comin’ here because of how backwards this town is.” She didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Daddy wants to keep you here.” She grabbed my left hand. “Marry you off.” She pushed my hand into my lap and paced again. “It’s just…there’s so much—”

  “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, sis? Daddy’s gonna come up here and whoop your tail.” Jake stood in the doorframe, arms crossed.

  Maggie spun around. “My lesson? Is that what you think this is about Jake? You’re just as bad as Daddy. Do you think I don’t know what you do out there?” Her hand shot out toward the window.

  Jake clenched his jaw.

  “Huh? Do you? You think you’re some groovy guy because you follow the other thugs in this town, beatin’ up coloreds and laughin’ while you walk away.”

  Jake came away from the doorframe and stood tall, squint
in’ at Maggie, his jaw muscles workin’ overtime.

  “It’s not right, Jake. And look,” she pointed at me.

  I opened my eyes wide. Me? As much as I loved Maggie, I didn’t want Daddy yellin’ at me like that. Please leave me out of this.

  “Look at her, think of her,” Maggie continued. “Do you really want her to have a life like,” she paused, and then continued just above a whisper, “like Mama? Caterin’ to some man her whole life? Alison is smarter than that. She’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

  “She’s not that smart.” His eyes never left Maggie’s. As much as his comment hurt, I knew Jake was achin’ inside by Maggie’s comment, since Daddy had kept him home. I swallowed my own feelin’s in hopes of the whole hurtful conversation blowin’ over.

  “I know you hate me because they sent me to school, Jake, but the truth is, they didn’t send me over you. They sent me to get rid of me. I’m nothin’ but a pain to Daddy. You,” she rubbed her forehead, “you’re his meal ticket when he’s old and can no longer run the farm. You’re plenty smart enough to go to school outside of this crappy place, but he’ll never let you go.”

  Jake’s eyes changed from angry to interested in the space of a second. Maggie sat down on her bed, and covered her face. I thought she was cryin’, until she lifted her face from her hands and I saw her reddened cheeks and a fierce look in her eye.

  “I have to get out of here.” She stood up and began throwin’ her clothes into her suitcase.

  “What? Why? You can’t leave,” Jake said.

  I grabbed her arm, alarm bells goin’ off in my head. I needed her. “Maggie, please don’t go. You just got here. Just stay, please.” I have no one to confide in.

  She shook me off and backed onto my bed, then pulled me down beside her. Jake sat down on Maggie’s bed, breathin’ hard, like he was ready to jump up and stop her if she tried to leave.

  “Pixie, I know you don’t get this, and I know you are probably scared to leave this place, but trust me, please.” Her eyes bore into my heart. “You’re too young to get married. This isn’t Mama’s generation. You can get an education, have a life other than this, more than this.”

  I looked from her to Jake. Deep creases ran across Jake’s forehead. He fidgeted with his hands in his lap. I looked back at Maggie, not sure what I felt, what I should say. So, instead, I remained quiet. Maggie filled the silence.

  “Look at me,” she pleaded. “In New York, coloreds and whites talk, on the streets, in the shops. It’s not like here. Women are not only homemakers or garment workers, they’re secretaries and they work in the stores. They go out and dance. They don’t sit around on some dirty, old farm waitin’ for the next rainstorm to create chaos in their lives, or walk down the aisle at seventeen.”

  “Eighteen,” I whispered.

  “Eighteen. Pfft.” Maggie drew in a deep breath and blew it out loudly. “Do you love him? I mean really love him? Does he make your stomach quake, even now, after two years? Do you long to see him when you’re apart?”

  I was afraid to answer honestly.

  “Do you?”

  I felt Jake’s eyes on me, and worried that he’d run and tell Jimmy Lee if I told the truth. “I don’t know.”

  “What?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t know, okay? It’s just…he’s all I know.” I stood up and went to the window, thinkin’ about Jackson’s arms wrapped around me. I hadn’t even kissed him, and yet I still felt a longin’ to see him that was stronger than I’d felt for Jimmy Lee in a long time. “Sometimes, he does things I don’t like,” I said. Like beatin’ up Albert and makin’ me do things I don’t want to. I let out a relieved sigh. It was out there in the open, someone besides me heard what was rattlin’ around inside my head.

  Jake’s eyes were as wide as a child’s seein’ Santa Claus come down the chimney.

  “Please, Jake, don’t say anything. Please?”

  Maggie grabbed his arm. “If you say one word, I will kill you.”

  “Maggie!” I said.

  “Quiet, Pix. This is important. This is your entire life. If you love him and know it here,” she thumped her chest, “then I’ll shut up. But if you don’t, there’s no way you’re gonna marry him, unless it’s over my dead body.”

  “Dramatic, don’t you think?” Jake pulled his arm from her grip.

  “You don’t get it, Jake. Once she’s married, she’s stuck.”

  Was she gonna break up me and Jimmy Lee? Was she fixin’ to try to call off my weddin’ that was takin’ place in two months? I twirled the ring on my finger. Fear gripped my heart. My father would be furious.

  “I said, I don’t know,” I interjected. “Maybe I do want to marry him.” I went back to the window, breathin’ fast and hard, my palms sweatin’ against the wooden sill. The moon shone high in the sky, and my mind sought the image of Jackson, the nubby thickness of his hair, the softness of his eyes. Jackson and I had developed a system. If I were able to meet him right after he was off work, I’d leave my library books on the front porch, and if I had to meet him after supper, I left them on the rockin’ chair. I had done my readin’ on the front porch just before dinnertime, and purposely left my book on the rockin’ chair. Now I wondered how I’d ever get out to see him—and I wanted to more than anything in the world. My only hope of sneakin’ out was while Maggie was asleep, and I’m not sure she’d ever go to sleep at the rate our conversation was escalatin’.

  “If you don’t know, that means you aren’t sure,” Maggie said.

  “Don’t push her, Maggie. Just because you like it out there doesn’t mean she will.”

  They both stared at me and I wondered how it was possible that our parents hadn’t come up stairs with all the noise we were makin’.

  “I’m so tired. Can we just be done already?” I asked.

  Maggie threw her hands up. “Whatever you want, Pixie. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” I lied. Jake left our room, leavin’ me filled with guilt, which burned in my stomach like a bonfire.

  “He’s scared. Daddy will never let him leave.”

  I flopped onto my bed, starin’ at the ceilin’. After the rush of adrenaline that carried our discussion, my body was heavy and tired. I listened to Maggie in the bathroom, brushin’ her teeth and washin’ her face. Daddy’s radio silenced, and my mind ran in circles, thinkin’ of my upcomin’ weddin’, which I’d been so carefully ignorin’.

  Heavy footsteps ascended the stairs.

  “Goodnight, Maggie.” My father peeked into my room and smiled. “Goodnight, Pix,” he said.

  I listened for Maggie’s response. It saddened me to know Daddy was answered with silence. “Goodnight, Daddy,” I said.

  Maggie came back into the room, closed the door, and climbed into her bed. She lit a candle on the nightstand, then turned off her light. “Don’t let Jake make you stay, either. He’s afraid he’ll be left all alone.” There was an edge to her voice, a warnin’.

  I looked at her then, her silhouette strikin’ in the flickerin’ light. “I never said I wanted to leave.”

  Maggie squinted in the darkness. “Oh, Pixie, is it too late? Have they ruined you for life?”

  I didn’t understand why Maggie was pushin’ me away from Jimmy Lee and Forrest Town. Or maybe I did. Maybe what I was just startin’ to figure out, Maggie had figured out long ago. I was torn between annoyed and curious. “Jake doesn’t care if I’m here or not,” I said.

  “No, he just doesn’t want to seem like he needs you. Everyone needs someone, and we’re all he’s got right now. He hangs out with guys who do nothin’ but get in trouble.”

  “Hey, Jimmy Lee is one of those guys.”

  “Sorry,” she said quietly, then she sat bolt upright in her bed, mischief in her eyes. “Pix, the world is about to change more than you could ever imagine.” She leaned toward me and whispered. “The white people here are assholes, Pix. The schools are not supposed to still be segregated.”

&
nbsp; She spoke so fast I could hardly keep up.

  Two seconds later she was perched atop my bed, sittin’ cross-legged, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Things are happenin’, and they’re gonna happen here, too. There’s this group, the Black Panthers, and they’re just gettin’ together out in California, but my friends say they’re formin’ in New York, too. They’re gonna help the coloreds gain equal rights.”

  “Didn’t Martin Luther King do that?”

  “Look around you,” she said.

  I looked around the bedroom.

  “Not here, out there.” Maggie pointed to the window. “You tell me, did good old Mr. King fix things here in backwoods Arkansas? Can coloreds eat at the diner and go see movies in our theaters?”

  Maggie was scarin’ me. What she said was true, it was like Mr. King’s words were empty in our town—the white folks still ruled the roost. I assumed they always would.

  Maggie stood up and paced, energized by her own vision. “I’m joinin’ ‘em, Pix. As soon as I get back to New York, I’m gonna help.”

  “You can’t do that. It’ll be dangerous. I hear about race riots on the radio when Daddy listens.” I grabbed her arm. “Please, Maggie. Please don’t do it.”

  She sat back down next to me. “I’m a woman. I’ll be behind the scenes, helpin’ the families and children. Oh, Pixie, I can barely walk by Division Street anymore without feelin’ sick to my stomach. Those poor kids haven’t a clue how they’re bein’ held back.”

  It occurred to me that Maggie wanted to fight for exactly what my heart was achin’ over. She hadn’t said anything about white folks datin’ black folks, but if this whole movement went as she hoped, couldn’t that naturally follow? Maybe not, and maybe never in my daddy’s world. “Daddy will never let you do it.” Fear prickled my arms. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Maggie.

  “Daddy won’t know.” She stifled my response with her glare. “Don’t you care about what’s goin’ on ‘round here?”