Era was setting a dish of hors d’oeuvres on the table when her husband said, “Black women will never stop castrating their men and when I have a son, I’m going to tell him, ‘Son, don’t be a fool and marry a black woman, get one just like your mama!’ ”
Era, full of it all, interrupted, “Reggie, do I castrate you?” He patted her on the hip and laughed, “Baby, we not talking about you all, we are talking about black women,” then he looked around for accord from his black brothers. Era didn’t laugh.
“Which one of you black brothers got a white mama?” She spoke quietly. “If you don’t have a white mama, then it’s your own mother you are dragging in mud, all the women in your families who carry the same blood you do!”
Reggie stopped smiling and looked seriously at Era, “Listen,” he started to say something.
Era looked around the room at the men, “When you was growin up, who tried to starve you and who tried to feed you? And when you find a foot in your behinds, now that you are grown, what color is it?” Era threw the plate of food against the wall over the record player and it fell on the turn-table and knocked the needle off the Miles Davis record and began to spin and knock against the boards. Reggie jumped up to quiet his wife, acutely conscious of what the others were seeing and hearing, “Baby, baby!”
Then she said, “I am a black woman! I never told you I was white. I knew you didn’t want to hear that!”
Reggie stiffened, “I don’t want to hear it now!”
But Era didn’t care anymore. “What’s so big about you, so grand, that you think you aren’t stooping down when you try to tear black women down, women your own color? What makes you think you can tear half a thing down and leave the other half up? You weren’t freed from slavery any earlier than she was!”
Reggie reached for her but she moved away, still talking.
“I’m gonna tell you something. Black women don’t care if you like white women. What we really resent, and what makes us so disgusted with you, is that you have to stand on our shoulders, tear us down, make us look like nothing to make yourself big enough to do what you want to do! Just go on and like em if you want to, only stop tearing us down to do it! Some white women are really alright! So, it’s O.K.!”
Reggie was beyond anger. His male friends saw that and rounded up their coats and wives, who were trying to remember all the things they had told Era when they thought she was white. They left.
Reggie beat Era, lawyer or not, pushed her down the stairs so she could see the front door and said, “See that door, black bitch? You be gone out of it when I get back here in a few days.” Then he tore her clothes off her and made evil love to her as hard as he could. When he was finished, bitten and scratched, he grabbed his boat keys and left, saying, “I don’t want you no more!”
Era lay there and cried and cried until it was far into the night. She wasn’t crying for the loss of Reggie or the nice house or the boat. It was the loneliness. She wanted someone to love her and she wanted to love someone … real. She called an ambulance, stayed two days in the hospital, where, fortunately, she learned nothing was broken. Came out, packed her things, went to a lawyer, stopped downtown and charged a new wardrobe for the country. Mailed back the charge cards to her husband with a note saying, “The cards come back from the black side, the bills will come from the white side of me.” Then she drove home to her mother’s to recuperate and think about her life and what she was going to do next.
Everything was still the same at home, quiet and peaceful, seeming far removed from big city racing. George was still there and they worked in the garden again and when Era needed something more to fill the days, she would go with George to work on his jobs. She liked being out in the sun, working in the earth. Sometimes they talked.
“George, you are still doing exactly the same things every time I come home.”
“What I’m going to change for? It suits me! Don’t give me no black eyes and big bruise!”
Silence would follow. But another time, she would say, “You know, you could make more money. Get a bigger house!”
“I’m doin alright! Do what I want to do! You can’t always buy the things you want, you know.” He would smile.
Silence. Then George might say, as he put the flower bulbs gently into the ground, “You had a big house … twice, far as I know. What they do for you?”
Era would pat the earth down gently around the bulb, “You know what I mean, George.”
Another time. “George, why haven’t you married? Had children?”
“Era, I’m gonna marry the woman I love. I don’t love them women I fool with!”
“Who do you fool with, George?”
He stood up. “This is a small kinda town … so when I need a woman, I gets dressed and go up the highway to a nice place I know and spend my money and when I get back, that’s all there is to it! Not nobody gonna be knockin on my door worryin me!”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with marriage, George. You need to be married!” She looked up at him.
He bent back to his work, “Ain’t done you no good, Era!”
Silence again. Off and on they talked about all the things they felt and thought about life. George was a little deeper than Era had thought, and she found she was not as deep as she thought she was!
Another time. “George, my marriages were different. I tried to make them both work.”
“What went wrong then?” He was digging around a tree.
“I was too black, George.”
“What that mean, Era?”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “One husband needed what he did not want … the other husband wanted what he did not need.”
George stopped digging and looked at Era. “Was you wanting a rich man? How come they picked you?” He picked up the shears and began pruning the tree, spreading the lowered branches apart so he could look at her. She began to drag the branches into a pile, the sunlight blazing down on her now shining, healthy, sun-baked face and body.
She finally answered, “Well, I guess I did, I do. And them? Well they looked at me and each one saw what he needed to see!”
George lowered his head through the branches, “And you helped them see what they wanted to see?”
“Ain’t nothing to say but I guess I did!”
“Era, you ain’t always sposed to see what you doing, you sposed to feel it! Seem like all you all did was for the look of things.”
“George, how come you know so much about it? You have never been married!”
“But I been in love a long, long time, Era.”
“Well,” her voice seemed strangled somehow, “Why don’t you marry her? What’s wrong with her?”
As he spoke, everything seemed to become still, suspended in space. “I love you, Era. Always have. Look like I always will. But you not sposed to know that, cause I ain’t gonna do a damn thing about it! Ain’t got no room for no big heartaches in my life … done had one all my life already.”
Era’s throat tightened and she could feel her own blood rushing through her body while at the same time the sun seemed to blaze brighter and she had to close her eyes from the glare.
Silence again. The rest of the afternoon they said things like, “You want this?”, “No, hand me that.”
When George called Era the next morning, she said she didn’t believe she would go with him. She expected him to come running by that evening; he didn’t. Nor the next, nor the next. She drove by his jobs and when she saw him and waved, he smiled. She could see his house from her porch and when he saw her, he waved, smiled and kept right on going about his business. On the week-end she saw him wash and shine his car all afternoon. Later he came out clean and dressed-up. He waved, got in his car and drove off, to the highway.
Era sat on the porch, thinking and staring at George’s house far into the night til he came home, then she went in to bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling. Another week went by. He came by and ran in with some flowers for Minna and grabbed Era
by the back of the neck, “Seem like I done lost my helper, Ms. Minna!”
Minna answered, “I don’t know why! She ain’t doin nothin round here cept reading and lookin out the window and sittin on that porch!”
George let go Era’s neck, “Well, people got to read and look out windows too. I got to go!”
Minna asked, “What’s your hurry? Stay and have some supper, Era cooked it.”
“No, ma’m,” George smiled. “Got to get home and clean up. Going to hit the highway this evenin!” He started out the door.
Era spoke sarcastically, “Again? You sure hitting the highway a lot!”
He smiled at her, “How you FEELING, Ms. Era?” He put a lot into that word “Feeling”.
“You ain’t been calling me ‘Ms. Era’, call me Era!”
He smiled at her as he got into his truck, “Era, you sound like you don’t feel too good.” He drove away.
She didn’t have to wait on the porch as long this time. He was back after a couple of hours. She started across the street to talk to him. For some reason she was angry. But she changed her mind when she realized she didn’t have anything really to say. She went back home to bed. She lay there listening to Minna and Arthur talking and laughing in their bedroom. They made things seem so simple, close and good. Where was her man, the man she could live with in peace and love … and reality? She thought hard about herself.
The next day she was up early and dressed in her cutest shorts outfit. She went and worked in the garden. When George passed, she smiled and waved him by. For a week she did her yard and helped the neighbors on each side of her, in a new cute shorts outfit every day. She seemed to perk up each time George’s truck came by and he seemed to find more reasons to come home for a minute. On the week-end, when he had cleaned his car and himself and was driving away, he slowed in front of Era’s house where she was painting the fence.
“Good lord! you are busy Era! You gon paint the house next?”
“If I FEEL like it!”
“That’s right!” He smiled, “Always try to do what you feel! Wait for the feeling!”
Era placed her hands on her hips. “You sure feel like hitting that highway a lot!” She screamed at him as he drove away.
He was back early, hardly over an hour. As he parked in his driveway, Era burst through the porch door, slammed it and with her face set, strode across the street toward his house. He saw her coming and held up his hand and strode to meet her, calling, “I’ll meet you half way!”
They met in the middle of the road.
They were both silent for a time, then George spoke; his voice was soft in the dusky evening on the empty road.
“What’s the matter, girl?”
“I don’t know, man!” Her voice, angry, trembled.
“Want to talk about it, woman?”
“Yes …” She looked up at him. He took her hand, pulling her toward his house. “Wanta sit down?” He asked.
“I want to know if you meant it when you said you loved me?”
“Yes, I meant it. I also meant I don’t want no problems.”
“Am I a problem to you, George?”
“Do you love me, Era?”
“I want you … is that love? I feel you! Is that love?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, what do you want from me, George?”
“Love … and a peace of mind.”
“How will we know we’ll always feel this way? What will I get from you, George?”
“Love … and a peace of mind.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because I FEEL it, Era. Always have, always will.”
They drew close, standing there for a time, then they kissed for the first of many loving and peaceful times.
She was neither white nor black now. She was a woman, his woman. It lasted til death did them part, leaving beautiful brown children on the beautiful brown earth. They worked their garden which grew abundantly and had mostly … love and a peace of mind.
Too Hep to be Happy!
MY NAME is Mrs. Eustace B. (for Bernard) Walker and I am Ida R. Walker, myself. I have lived in this house, this same house!, for 81 years! I was born here, raised here, married here and I lived right here! My sisters and brothers all moved away and left me early on. I have done my duty by everybody … I stayed here. First, my father died, then my mother passed and last of all, my husband passed. Oh yes! I stayed and done my duty and … still doing it! I am 81 years old and don’t know if I did my duty to myself right or not; but I can’t change nothin now. But when you live that long to be that age, you have done something right! Least ways if you look good as I do! Everybody says I look good! Ain’t no need for them to lie!
Sit on down over there. Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna roll out these rolls and pop them in the oven for us to make our acquaintance by. I’m a good cook!
Now, up and down this street, you know I have seen it grow from a path, to a road, to a street, with rocks and mud and horses, to gravel and finally that ugly black tar for cars. I rather horses myself! I rather smell horse manure than spend good money on gas that just blows out and it’s gone. But anyway, back to what I’m trying to tell you.
Now where’s my flour?
I sees most everything, if not everything that goes on in this here town, and all I don’t see, I blieve I hear about! I mean I hear it all! But I like what I can see, cause I can count on that! You can’t count on what people say … now can you? They say what they think they saw. But when you see, then you see! Now, what I done seen, for all kinds of years 20, 30, 40, 50, 70 and 80 headin toward 90, then a hundred, I hope! Don’t you?
These rolls are going to be delicious!
Now on this street, there be eight or nine families; for all the years I have been here. In most of em the daddy done died or gone, most all the grammas and grampas and even some of the kids. But I notice the wives get left behind more. That’s why so many women alone in this town and that’s why these women that got men got to hold on to em, cause most of these church goin folks here don’t mind taken your husband or your wife for a while anyway … That’s what brings me to the very person I want to tell you about. Mr. Luther Lester! L.L.!
Now, there have been all kinds of women, sick ones, well ones, even one blind one have liked that man! He is old now, or older I guess is a better word. He bout 70 years old or so. But he always been kinda nice and soft and easy going; least ways it seemed like he was. He always seem to be givin you somethin! But, it all be second hand trash from the junk yard, stuff that still works a little. Still if you ain’t got one, and he got a used one to give you … what you gonna do? Do you know? See what I mean, chile? So he give away a lot, been given to him, don’t cost him a dime! And if it do, he gets that much from you by way of a piece of chicken or a piece of pie, half a cake or a ham hock or two!
I don’t know is he a lover or not cause we ain’t never crossed the same road together! My husband was alive and his friend for bout 50 years (now he dead, rest his soul, he was a good man, you know), and Lester used to come over here and talk and drink beer and I used to hear them talk. If I didn’t hear them talk, my husband would tell me later, cause I kept my mouth shut. I learned early that you learned more if your mouth was shut! Before and after! So you can tell me anything you want to bout your business cause I’ll take it to my grave with me. I don’t tell nothin!
Now, let me finish tellin you. Luther Lester never was married. No! Not ever! Got all he needed of everything without marrying up with nobody. These ladies done killed they selves off on account of losing all the power … in the give-away! You can’t give away nothin worth something! Do, sometime it means it wasn’t worth much. Course that means did you give it to a fool or not! But it seem to me … and I may be dumb, cause I ain’t been here but 81 years … that he liked all of em! Even the sick ones … so he can feel like he givin them something. All of em! Well … 70 years … you got time to get em all! Well … me, myself … I think h
e takes somethin away.
How many ain’t so important no way … it’s the fact and reason he ain’t never kept nobody for his own! He been nice to em all, but ain’t never spent a long dime … maybe a short one for a beer or somethin, but not a long one, like for nothin they need that might have to be brand new. You know what I mean?
Ohhh these rolls are turning out nicely.
I didn’t really pay that man no real mind until my niece came here to stay awhile and it come to my attention to think about him. She was right pretty, wasn’t too young and wasn’t old, but was real nice. A real nice person. Had a city name, Rayetta; one of them sisters of mine done dug a trench in the city and stayed there. She, Rayetta, had pretty hair and skin and legs and a powerful bust and behind; you know the kind. Men likes them same now as a thousand years ago, I guess. Anyway, she came and she was always walkin, goin somewhere, and a whole lot of men got to see her, and the women, too. (I’m gonna put this pan in the oven.) Well, Lester commence to coming round askin me if I needed anything and how was I and all that … you know what I mean? And his eyes just bulge out and around corners and all, to get a look at Rayetta. She thought it was cute in a amusin kind of way so she encouraged him by laughin and talkin with him and having a beer or two. He was 70 years old, for God’s sake! What he wanta be sniffin round somebody for? I thought to myself, what could he do, do he get her in that position? But whatever he could do … he sure wanted to try it! Then, he got to taken her for a ride in that ole grey jalopy of his! All that money he got (oh, he got plenty money), and he won’t buy a decent automobile. They would ride bout a hour or so, she say the car make so much noise you couldn’t hear no conversation so they just bounced all over these country roads! Then he bring her back, grinning. She just laugh … not mean, just havin fun.
Now somehow, she got to thinking nobody ever done much for him and she like to see people happy so she start to takin cakes and pies over to his house and little things she pay money for, given them to him and he took them all … grinning. But he don’t never give her nothin but a beer. Then, I guess he wondered what he could do (in the bed) if she was to let him. She say he was always tryin to feel her bust on the secret, you know what I mean? (My husband used to do that to women sometime … damm him!) She was mostly just laughin, but somethin happened and she took to takin special care for her looks when she was going to see him! And sitting round that phone when it didn’t ring! And it got to where he didn’t call or even come by sometimes! I could see that woman was likin on that man … really!!! I don’t know what he done, but he knew somethin to do. Cause she start talkin bout maybe she would live here. Live here! And wonderin why he ain’t never been married and why he was alone. I coulda told her he wasn’t alone … he had a married woman he been goin with for years … but I didn’t want to tell her somethin that would make her think she liked him for sure! She was already sayin he wasn’t happy and his house needed cleaning and all. (I just was watchin cause I thought I must be learning somethin new but I didn’t never find out what it was.)
A Piece of Mine Page 8
