Catfish Alley

by Lynne Bryant

  "I still can't believe my good luck," he says, taking my hand and kissing the palm. "But I miss you every day, Gracie." He pauses. "I ... I want us to be together. I know it might be too much to ask, but I want you to come with me. I want us to get married and go on the road together." His voice trembles with excitement. "Just think about the fun we could have! And I'm making enough money now to support us. Mr. Armstrong even talks about doing shows overseas! Imagine us, Gracie — going to Europe!"

  I turn to look at him. I've forgotten to breathe and my body is aching with love and desire for him. These are exactly the words I've always wanted to hear from Junior Jackson. Somewhere in the back of my mind, pushed into a corner, are the words I should say to him about the other things I want, about my college education, about my obligations to Dr. Prosser and the Calhouns. But he kisses me softly and gently cradles my head as he lays me back on the ground. Right then I forget about Dr. Prosser and the Calhouns, about my studies, or becoming a teacher. I even forget about Vidalia Swenson and curfew.

  For once, my mind goes quiet, and the loneliness and fear I've been feeling for months is replaced with the welcome weight of Junior's long lean body on mine, his kisses covering my face and breasts, and our love-making on a pine-scented carpet of needles near the pond behind Tougaloo College.

  Roxanne

  Of course, the first question I want to ask is what happened next. But I'm always the one with the questions. Right now it seems obvious — Grace never married, so she must have refused to go with him. As I listen to this petite, wise woman talk about Junior Jackson and watch her expressions, I can see glimpses of the young girl who made love with him on a bed of pine needles so long ago. My heart aches to think she wasn't ever able to throw caution to the wind, to run away with her lover and find a new life.

  Billy Webster asks the question I don't. Billy is an interesting woman — tall, beautiful, confident. She must be in her mid-to late thirties, a Chicago career woman from what Mattie tells me. I envy her easy closeness with these women, the way they dote on her. I want to be part of their closeness, but I find myself keeping a little distance, still uncertain, torn between wondering if I fit in and wondering if I want to.

  "Miss Grace, that's so romantic!" Billy says. "What happened? Did you run away with him?" Billy takes our plates and brings the coffeepot over to pour warm-ups. Adelle and Mattie are watching Grace. It's obvious that they know the answer, but this time they're letting her tell the story.

  "Oh, no, child," Grace answers. "But, oh, how I wanted to." Grace looks at Adelle and Mattie for affirmation and they nod. "I didn't want to lose him, but I didn't want to throw away my own dreams, either, and I couldn't let Dr. Prosser down, not after all she'd done for me. So I put him off, asked him to come back at Christmastime and visit me. I told him that we could talk about it again then. We were all planning to meet at Christmas, and I was hoping to convince him to stay."

  I'm accustomed by now to Adelle's long silences, so when she looks up from shuffling cards and speaks, I think we're all surprised.

  "And then everything fell apart because of what happened to me," she says.

  "Now, Addie," Grace says. "We don't have to talk about that. You know that was not your fault." Grace reaches over and takes Adelle's hand and gives it a squeeze.

  Mattie abruptly leans forward in her chair. "Help me up, Billy. I got to use the ladies' room." Billy moves quickly to help her grandmother out of her chair. Mattie refuses Billy's assistance with walking to the rest-room. "I got it from here. You see if anyone wants some more cake."

  I look back at Grace, and she's shaking her head at Adelle, as if to silence her again. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room feels uncomfortable. It's as if whatever Adelle is not saying is floating there among us like a dark cloud in an otherwise pristine day.

  We all make small talk while Mattie is gone, and we refuse Billy's offers of more cake. Mattie returns and settles into her chair and instructs Adelle to deal the hand. I glance at my watch. I know it's getting late, but I'm hesitant to leave.

  Adelle starts to deal and stops. She studies the cards as if she's trying to remember what to do with them.

  "Addie?" Grace asks.

  "That Christmas changed everything, didn't it, Gracie?" Adelle says.

  "Things were already changing before that, Addie."

  Mattie looks from Grace to Adelle and coughs. "Girls, I think we need to get on with our card game," she says. "How about

  I deal?" She takes the cards from Adelle, and Grace continues to watch her. Billy and I are both silent. I'm trying to figure out what's going on. What's so hard to talk about?

  "Grace," Adelle says, taking a deep breath, "I think we should talk about what happened."

  "Oh, Lord," Mattie says, setting the cards down. "Billy, look in that little refrigerator over there and bring me a Coke." Mattie brings out the same bottle of whiskey she was working on the day I met her. Billy looks over her shoulder at Adelle as she rummages in the refrigerator for soda. None of us can take our eyes off of her. Billy brings Mattie the Coke and a small glass of ice.

  "Sweetie, if you want to talk about it, we'll talk about it," Grace says gently.

  Mattie shakes her head and mixes whiskey and Coke. Billy hands her a spoon, which she pushes away. I tear my eyes from Adelle long enough to see Mattie stick her long, black, gnarly finger in the drink and give it a stir. I can feel the tension among the three women, but I don't understand it. We're all watching Adelle now, waiting.

  She looks up at Grace, who nods, as if giving her permission to go on. Adelle begins, "We were all so excited to get home that year...."

  Chapter 15

  December 1931

  Adelle

  As the bus travels through the western Alabama countryside, I stare out the window thinking of home. I can see my house, my warm bed, and the faces of Mama and Papa greeting me at the door. It's not usually this cold, even in December. The seats for coloreds in the back of the bus don't get much of the heat from up there at the front.

  My whole body aches from lifting patients and cleaning floors, so even this lumpy old bus seat feels good, but I'm so excited to get home I can't sleep. Nurse's training at Tuskegee is the hardest thing I've ever done. The hours are endless, and on top of the hours in the hospital for training, they hire us out at least three weekends a month to nurse sick folk out in the country. It's hard to believe that four months have gone by since I started nursing school and I haven't been home once, until now.

  I know it will be a wonderful Christmas. I feel all warm inside as I think back to Mama's letter saying how she's decorating the house and how Papa cut the largest cedar tree he could find in the woods near Clarksville. Even better, Gracie's coming home. Mama said in her letter that Junior probably won't make it. He's still on the road with Mr. Armstrong's band and Christmas is his busiest time of year. But Gracie and I know better! I'm thinking maybe, after what happened last month when he visited her at Tougaloo, she's convinced him to come home.

  Most of all, I can't wait to see Zero. I've gotten only two letters from him in the whole time I've been away. Papa and Mama say I shouldn't worry, that he's just busy. But there are those moments when I can't help wondering if he's met some other girl and forgotten all about me. I know it's silly but I can't help it. I miss him so much.

  It's funny with Zero. He doesn't think about wedding plans like I do. It's as if he's just always known we would be together for the rest of our lives. He says he's going to come back and take over Papa's medical practice, and I'll be his nurse until we have babies. We even talked about building a house and where our children might go to college. Our dreams are big. Sometimes I worry they're too big. I also feel guilty because I have the man I want, if he hasn't forgotten me, that is. But Grace is still waiting, hoping Junior will come back to Mississippi.

  I shift my weight and try to get more comfortable. They added three rows to the white section of the bus because of the Christmas crowd of trave
lers, so I'm crammed into one seat with three other women. I'm still wearing my nursing uniform because I left in such a hurry to catch the bus. I just yanked off my cap, threw my two outfits and my books into the suitcase and ran for the bus station. Mama and Papa aren't expecting me until tomorrow afternoon, but I got an unexpected extra leave day, so I flew to the station to catch the earliest bus I could. I smile as I think about my plan to walk the few blocks home from the bus station and surprise them.

  I must have finally drifted off to sleep, with my head resting against the window, because I wake with a start to the sound of the bus driver's voice announcing, "Clarksville." Still yawning and shaking myself awake, I go around the side of the bus to get my suitcase. I shiver with the cold and pull my nursing cape closer around me. My watch says eight o'clock. Mama and Papa are probably just now settling into their chairs by the fire to read. If I walk fast, I can be home before they start nodding off.

  It's so good to be on the familiar streets of Clarksville again. As I take the same route from the bus station to our house on Fifth Avenue North that I've taken all my life, it seems like nothing has changed. The lights are out at Jones's Cafe, since it closes earlier in the winter. All I can think of is surprising Mama and Papa and finding out whether or not Zero is coming home. I barely notice the two men leaning against the building in the alley across from the barbershop.

  My suitcase is too heavy. I probably shouldn't have brought all my books home, but I need to study. I pause and transfer the suitcase to my other hand. That's when I notice the footsteps behind me. I turn, thinking it's probably just people leaving the pool hall, but it's not. Cold fear grips my belly when I see two white men step out of the shadows of the alley. I step up my pace, trying not to look as scared as I feel. It's nothing, I tell myself. Just keep going. My heart is pounding out of my chest and my suitcase suddenly feels like it's made of lead. For a second I think I should just drop it and run, but then I decide I'm being silly.

  Suddenly, they're right beside me, one on either side. They press their shoulders so close to me I can smell the cigarette smoke and the sour scent of moonshine. It's so dark on this part of the street that I can barely see their faces. But as soon as the one on the left opens his mouth, I know. Ray Tanner.

  "Hey there, little nigger nurse," Ray says to me. He looks across me at the other man and says, "Pete, this here's the one I told you about. This is the one Zero Clark is sweet on." The other man nods and grunts. Ray slurs on, "He'll come running like a pig to slop for this one."

  I try to ignore them, and walk faster to get to the next corner. Only three blocks until home, I tell myself. Just stay calm. But now, Ray and the other man move in front of me and block my way. Ray Tanner's ugly pitted face leers down at me, and the other man grabs my suitcase when I try to go around them.

  "Hold on there, little nigger nurse," Ray says, his breath reeking of whiskey. "I need me a nurse. I'm hurting. I got me a hard-on that just won't go away." He tries to grab my breast as the other man, a man I recognize but can't place, laughs and throws my suitcase to the side. They force me into the alley.

  I push Ray's hand away from my breast and start to run, but he catches me and pushes me against the wall of the building, clamping his filthy hand over my mouth.

  "Pete, show our little nurse here what we're going to do if she makes any noise."

  My scream stops when I see Pete flash his hunting knife. Ray presses himself into me until I can feel his erection through my clothes. He rips my uniform open and sticks his hand down between my breasts. I struggle to break free of his grip and try to get my knee in a position to hit him in the balls, but he's too quick. He gets his leg in between mine and pushes me down in the dirt of the alley.

  "Hold her, Pete," Ray says. "We'll show Zero Clark what happens when he messes in white folks' business."

  Pete comes around behind me, jerks my arms above my head, and holds his knife to my throat. The last thing I remember hearing is Pete laughing while Ray Tanner unbuttons his pants and pulls up my dress.

  When I come to, what I notice first is the stink of catfish guts. I realize I'm lying beside a trash can in the alley near Jones's Cafe, and everything that happened comes to me in a rush. I still smell Ray Tanner's rancid sweat on my body, but worse, I feel the shame of what he's done to me between my legs. I raise myself up to look around, and the pain that shoots through my head almost makes me faint again. I reach up to touch my forehead and I know, even in the dark, that what I feel is blood. I have to get myself home.

  I rise slowly to test my legs. Dragging my suitcase, I start down the alley, forcing myself to focus on Mama and Papa. They're sitting by the fire right now. Mama is exhausted from decorating and cooking all day, making the house perfect for me, preparing my favorite foods. I reach the end of the alley and furtively cross the street. No one can see me like this. It's too shameful.

  Think about Mama and Papa, I say to myself again. Papa will say they're working me too hard at Tuskegee. Mama will look at my calloused hands and kiss them. She'll rub them with Vaseline and make me wear cotton gloves to bed. I stop and duck behind a big hydrangea bush, the rattle of its dried blossoms sounding loud in the winter stillness. Is someone coming? Was that footsteps? The blood from the cut is running into my eyes, so I reach up with the end of my cape to wipe it away. Two more alleys and I'll almost be home.

  My legs are refusing to move and my suitcase feels like it's full of bricks. A dog barks from the yard across the street. I have to move before anyone wakes up. Zero ... I'll think about Zero ... My legs move slowly, my feet dragging in the dirt of the alley.

  Zero, who's followed in Papa's footsteps ever since the day Clarence Jones and Junior brought him to the house all bloodied up ... it was Ray Tanner who beat him up. This thought stops me dead in my tracks. Zero can never know about this ... I have to keep it a secret ... have to come up with a story ... I feel the despair and the dirtiness closing in on me again and I push myself forward. Think about Zero — he'll make a wonderful doctor and we'll come back here and get married. Mama and Papa will dote on our children. I'm almost there. I can see our front door, but I need to go around to the back ... I'm too dirty for the front door. Mama will have cleaned the rugs....

  I drag myself up the back steps. Home ... the blood is in my eyes again. I drop the suitcase and crawl toward the door. I don't have the strength to stand anymore. I can only bring my hand up to scratch at the door. Before things go black again I notice that I've left blood on the white door.

  Mama is screaming. I hear her calling for Papa. I tell myself, Quiet, just stay quiet. Don't tell them anything. The shame would kill them.

  "It's all right now, baby, Mama's got you, Mama's got you," Mama is saying. She pulls my head into her lap. I feel the tears running into my ears as Papa bursts out of the back door. I'll be safe now. Papa will protect me.

  "Anna Lee," he says to Mama in the low, calm voice he gets in an emergency, "go to my exam room and get the table ready."

  Papa scoops me up like a hurt puppy and Mama rushes off to follow his instructions. "Hang on, sweet girl, hang on," he says in my ear.

  Quiet, I remind myself. Stay quiet. The exam table is ice cold. I have no control over the shaking of my body and my teeth are rattling together so hard, the pain in my head is almost unbearable. Mama covers me with a blanket and tries to warm me with her body, but Papa sends her to the anteroom for supplies to stitch up my forehead. Stitches? I wonder how deep the cut is. Papa is pressing his hands into my legs and arms. I know he's checking for broken bones, but his touch makes me shake harder, and I want to scream. But I'm locked into my mind and my body, and words won't come. I won't let them. Not yet.

  "Can you tell me what happened, Adelle? Who did this to you?" Papa is asking.

  I flinch when Papa wipes the blood from the cut across my forehead. For a second the crazy thought occurs to me that I'll have to style my hair differently to hide the scar. Will

  Zero like it that way?
Will he still want me?

  "This is a clean cut," Papa says. I close my eyes again. "This was done with a sharp knife."

  Mama is at my side, and I grip her hand tight as Papa finishes cleaning and stitching the wound and covers it with clean white gauze. I can tell how helpless she feels as she says over and over, "My baby, my sweet baby." I open my eyes to look at her and she is studying me, even as she tries to soothe me. Her eyes are roving over my dirty uniform. Somehow she knows. I feel it. How can she tell? Is it Ray Tanner's stink? Do I look different?

  When Papa finishes with the dressing, Mama looks at him, as they stand opposite each other over my body. "Albert," she says, her voice stern. "I want you to bring Adelle upstairs to her room. I'll help her out of these muddy clothes." She smiles at me, but I can see her fear. She lets go of my hand and blots the tears out of my eyes with her handkerchief. "I'll get you cleaned up, baby. Don't you worry." She must know.

  "But I need to do a more thorough examination," Papa insists. Worry creases his face into deep lines. But Mama won't have it.

  "Albert, I need for you to bring Adelle upstairs," she repeats. "She needs me to take care of her right now."

  I pray Papa will give in. I can't stand the thought of being touched any more. Every part of my body feels like it's bruised. I just want to be in my bed and pull the covers over my head. Papa doesn't argue. He lifts me into his arms again and follows Mama upstairs to my room. He lays me gently on the same bed I've slept in all my life. But everything's different now and I feel like a stranger in my own room.

  "Now, Albert, you go and get Adelle some medicine that will help her sleep. I'm going to wash her off and get her into a nightgown," Mama says, taking charge. "Oh, and light that heater. It's cold in this room."