It All Comes Down to This

by Karen English

  I laughed.

  “Really,” she said. “My mother, on the other hand, was small and delicate, with soft brown skin and with what we call nice features: small nose, lips not too full, thick wavy hair that hung down her back. She was quite proud of that hair. Sometimes she’d let my father brush it. She was a beautiful woman, something like your mother.” She looked at me sideways.

  I thought of my own hair. “I once heard my mother and father blaming each other for my hair,” I said.

  “You have a good healthy head of hair. Grows long,” Mrs. Baylor said. “Takes a press real good.”

  “My mother calls it rhiny. She says rhiny hair is usually kinky.”

  Mrs. Baylor laughed. “I’ll braid it up for you sometime.”

  She was quiet for a moment, so I waited to hear more about this little black baby whose mother didn’t want her.

  “My mother hired a wet nurse for me. She would not nurse me herself. The wet nurse was Nancy. We did not have her long. My father died and we were soon destitute because there was no will and he had left a lot of debt.

  “My mother went to work in a hotel, cleaning rooms. She shipped me off to my father’s mother, and that’s where I spent the first twelve years of my life. I was happy. My grandmother loved me so. I was the daughter of her most successful child.”

  I shifted uneasily. What must it have felt like to be shipped off? I wondered.

  “When I was twelve—​just your age—​my mother sent for me. I was so happy, thinking she finally wanted me. My grandmother made me a new dress, fixed my hair, and bought me little gold hoops for my ears. These very ones,” Mrs. Baylor said, pulling at an ear lobe. “I still wear them after all of these years, for my grandmother.”

  I imagined Mrs. Baylor all dressed up. I stared at the earrings. It was the first time I’d really noticed them. They’d always just gone with her look. “What happened when you went to live with your mother?” I asked.

  A shadow fell over Mrs. Baylor’s face then. She gazed out my window at the black night. “My mother didn’t want me for me. She wanted me so I could take care of her baby.”

  My eyes widened.

  “She’d gotten pregnant by one of the white hotel guests—​a married man who’d flattered her, made her think on his short visit to Kingston that he would be her ticket to the States. I think she got pregnant on purpose, not knowing that the white man already had a wife.”

  “A girl baby or a boy baby?”

  “Girl,” Mrs. Baylor said simply. “I was pulled out of school—​the wonderful school that I adored. Snatched from the love of my grandmother and my teacher, who always praised me as the smartest girl in her class.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “My mother lied to my grandmother. Told her she was ready to be a mother to me now, so my grandmother was happy to reunite us. But my mother turned me into a nursemaid. She did not send me to school. She kept me home to care for my sister while she continued to work in that hotel.

  “She was a tiny little thing, my sister, Kate—​I think because my mother had had to hide her pregnancy. She would have gotten fired if anyone found out she was getting with the guests. I don’t know how she managed to hide it, but she did. Then she told the hotel people that Kate was the child of a sister who couldn’t care for her.”

  I pictured a baby the size of a small doll.

  “She was tiny and so pale, you could see the blue veins in her temples. A frail little baby. But I took excellent care of her. I was hoping to earn my mother’s favor. As Kate grew, certain features showed up: blue eyes, dark-blond straight hair; my mother was so proud of those blue eyes and straight hair. Soon Kate went from being a sweet baby to a spoiled little girl who thought she was better because she looked mostly white. She began to mimic our mother by treating me like a servant put on earth just to care for her. I lost years of schooling and fell so far behind, I was never to catch up. Never to return to school.”

  I felt my throat tighten at the injustice of it. Tears welled in my eyes again. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

  “When I was seventeen my father’s sister, my aunt Blanche, who lived in New York, sent for me to go live with her. In secret. I think she guessed what was going on. I sneaked away. I won’t say how, but I was able to leave and then live with my lovely Aunt Blanche.”

  There was a moment of quiet. “Mrs. Baylor?” I said.

  “Yes, girl.”

  “I never think of my color being better than anyone else’s. Never.” And I was telling the truth.

  CHAPTER 17

  Beach

  * * *

  MY SISTER WAS in her bed, snoring softly, when I awoke. It took me a few seconds to remember my sad situation. My mother was gone. I sat up and looked at Lily for a moment. I could hear Mrs. Baylor in the kitchen. Daddy must have asked her to stay in light of my mother just up and leaving. I imagined August twenty-sixth, when I would wake up to see a made bed and think of Lily in Atlanta already awake and in the dorm room unpacking her suitcase, deciding where to put stuff.

  I considered showing her the Jet magazine. But then I thought better of it. She was going to the South. It would make her afraid, and I didn’t want her to be afraid. The magazine was on the floor. I leaned down and pushed it farther under the bed.

  The snoring stopped and her eyes opened. She lay there staring at nothing. Then she came up on her elbow. “Has Mom called?” she asked.

  I shook my head slowly. She flopped back down and closed her eyes as if it was of little importance to her.

  “I want to call Aunt Rose,” I said. I expected Lily to protest, but she just yawned and said, “Do what you want.”

  Now I had to be brave and follow through. I had to ask Daddy for the telephone number, then I’d probably see him not care as he scribbled it on a scrap of paper or said with a shrug that he didn’t have it.

  I decided to dress and eat breakfast before going to find him. If he said he didn’t know it or didn’t have it, I could go straight to Jennifer’s so we could practice our lines for the tryouts.

  “I’m off today. You want to go to the beach?” Lily asked me. She was sitting up and looking out the window at the marine layer, frowning slightly. “Mmm, cloudy. I guess the sun’s coming out sometime today.”

  “Yeah! When are we going?”

  “Whenever Nathan comes to pick us up.”

  I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach. I liked his Volkswagen Beetle. I liked the radio stations he played. I liked that he knew how they shake hands in Ghana.

  “Go ask Daddy for Aunt Rose’s telephone number.”

  I made my way to the kitchen to check if Daddy was in there having his coffee. Through the window, I could see Mrs. Baylor hanging up laundry on the clothesline again. Our mother had no plans to buy a clothes dryer. She liked the fragrance of clothes dried in the sun. I pulled back the curtains over the sink and Mrs. Baylor caught my eye and smiled. A really nice smile. I thought of her as a baby with a mother who didn’t want her. How could a mother not want her own child?

  Daddy was in my parents’ bathroom, leaning toward his mirror, shaving. “Mornin’,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  He hadn’t gotten to his comb-over yet and I was thrown a little bit by his shiny, balding head.

  “I want Aunt Rose’s telephone number,” I said, happy to get it out.

  “I don’t have it.”

  I had half expected him to say that. So I wasn’t surprised. Did this mean I might never talk to my mother again? Then I wondered where my father was going on a Saturday morning.

  “See if your mother left her precious datebook behind.” He turned toward their room. “It would be in the top nightstand drawer. On her side. I can’t see her leaving it, but she was in a big hurry, I guess you could say.”

  I stood there for a moment. Then, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Daddy, are you just going to let her stay gone? Don’t you care about Mom?” The vision of him si
tting in the café across from that woman and putting his hand on hers came back to me, along with the sick feeling that had lasted the whole rest of the day.

  He put his razor under the tap and shook it. He glanced over at me and sighed. “Your mother will be back when she’s good and ready. I’m not going to beg her.”

  “Would you even want to beg her, Daddy?”

  He looked at me in the mirror. “The number is in her datebook,” he said, and grabbed a hand towel from the rack and patted his face.

  I got the datebook and took it to my room. I wasn’t going to ask for permission to go to the beach. Lily wasn’t asking, so I wouldn’t either. She was already in the shower. I’d be able to have some privacy in case I got tongue-tied or started to cry.

  I looked at my mother’s July calendar. So many things penciled in. How was she doing those things from where she was without her datebook? Maybe she’d decided to take a vacation from all that stuff and left the book there deliberately. I saw my name then, “Sophia’s piano recital,” penciled into yesterday’s square. She’d even drawn a squiggly line around it so it would stand out.

  She’d always planned to come. It wasn’t a last-minute decision. I flipped ahead to August twenty-fifth. There it was: Lily’s flight time and flight number. TWA Flight 624 at nine a.m. Exactly one month away.

  I sat down on my bed and dialed Aunt Rose’s number. She answered on the third ring. People did that whether they were sitting right next to the phone or not. Nobody wanted to seem too eager.

  “Aunt Rose, this is Sophie. Can I speak to my mother?” Oops, I hadn’t greeted her first and asked how she was doing. I felt bad because I loved Aunt Rose. She was really affectionate—​always free with kisses and hugs. When I was little, she’d called me monkey. She had a birthmark above her right eyebrow. She’d let me reach out to touch it, but when I was about to put my finger on it, she’d yell, “Boo!” making me jump and sending me into giggles.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said with a voice full of sympathy. “How are you and Lily doing, darlin’?”

  “We’re fine,” I answered. There was a sudden pain in my throat as if I was going to cry.

  “Poor baby,” she said. “Hold on, hon. Let me get your mother.”

  It was almost a minute before my mother got on the phone. As soon as she said hello, I started bombarding her with questions: “Mommy, are you coming home, ever? How come you didn’t stay after the recital? Are you still mad at Daddy?”

  There was a long sigh. “Sophia, I’m here because I need time to think. I’m not going to go into it; this only concerns your father and me. Be patient. I’ll be back when I’m ready.”

  “But why didn’t you stay after the recital?”

  “Because your father was there and I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “Daddy was at my recital?” I said. “I didn’t see him.”

  “He was sitting way in the back. Behind me, even—​off to the side.”

  “I missed him.” Now I felt bad. I’d been blaming him for being selfish and unconcerned all night and all morning.

  “I didn’t want a scene to occur,” she said.

  “Oh.”

  “Listen, Sophia. I just need a little time to think. I’ll be back before you know it, and then we’ll work everything out.” There was a pause where I didn’t know what to say.

  “Goodbye, Sophia. I’ll see you soon.” And with that she was gone.

  I replaced the receiver just as Lily was coming into the bedroom in her white fluffy terry cloth robe. “Hey,” she said. “So you still want to go to the beach?”

  “I saw him, Lily,” I said quietly while she searched in the closet for something to wear. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed. And just at that moment, I decided to tell her what had happened.

  “Who?”

  “Daddy. I saw him with a woman.”

  Lily pulled out a blue long-sleeved knit top and held it up in front of her. She met my eyes in the mirror. “Where?”

  “That café. Prides.”

  She sighed, then shrugged. “He likes that place,” she said.

  I felt my face crumble.

  She looked out the window. “He’s not very discreet.”

  “You mean you knew? About Daddy?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “I work in the shopping center, remember?”

  “You’ve seen him with her, then?”

  Lily nodded.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I cried. “Why does he act like that?”

  “You mean like a man?”

  “Nathan would never act like that. I know he wouldn’t. He’s different.”

  Lily blushed and looked away. “I take that back. There are a lot of men who wouldn’t act like that.” She looked at me and said simply, “Go get ready for the beach.”

  “Where to?” Nathan asked, pulling onto Angeles Vista.

  “Zuma, by way of Sunset,” Lily said. With our parents too distracted to pay attention to us, it felt like we had a grown-up kind of freedom.

  “You are definitely a West Side girl. You ever been to Watts or Compton, or east of Arlington?”

  “I’ve been east of Arlington. A couple of times.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He looked over at her and smiled as if that only endeared her to him more.

  “Oops. Wait. More than a couple of times. Whenever I go downtown I’m east of Arlington.”

  Once we got past Doheny and wound through Pacific Palisades, Sunset slid into Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean majestically came into view. We were still under a cool marine layer that was supposed to linger until the late afternoon. But no one planned to go into the ocean above their ankles anyway, so it was okay.

  Zuma Beach had swings, and I’d brought a big towel and my script. I was really going to get into my soliloquy about Julie’s two-faced behavior behind her best friend’s back. I also had a small notepad for ideas concerning my novel, which could occur to me at any moment.

  The parking lot was nearly empty. For most people, it wasn’t a good beach day. Nathan carried the small picnic basket with bottles of punch and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Lily had thrown together at the last minute. I spread out my towel near the swings and settled down with my script. Lily and Nathan walked off like two good friends deep in conversation. I watched them until I got tired of it.

  The wind was picking up, so I put on Nathan’s windbreaker, which he’d left on top of the basket. Then I dove into my script. There was a family with three small children about ten yards away, so I didn’t feel really alone.

  Before I knew it Lily and Nathan were back and we were sharing my towel, eating the sandwiches, and watching the waves rolling in and out. Then Lily ran over to the swings. Soon all three of us were on them, seeing who could go the highest and the fastest. Of course I won, because I was lighter and it hadn’t been a zillion years since I had gone on a swing. I felt like I was going to fly off and go zooming over the water. Then up, up into the clouds.

  Lily laughed, which made me laugh, and then Nathan was laughing, too. And I thought: This is what I will remember all my life. Lily would remember Lydia’s pool party and all the fun and the music and the cool guys, and I would remember this: laughing and feeling as if I could fly out over the ocean.

  When we left the beach it was Lily’s idea to drive around the neighborhood in Pacific Palisades, “to see how the other half lives.”

  “You live like the other half lives,” Nathan said, grabbing the picnic basket and swinging it onto his shoulder.

  “Not even close. You’ll see.”

  “It’s all relative,” he said. When we got back to the car, he opened the door for her, then for me.

  The warmth inside felt cozy and comforting. I settled in a corner of the back seat with my notepad, ready for random thoughts. I looked out the window at the shady streets, the sprawling houses, and the expansive lawns, which seemed more uniformly green than the lawns on my street.

  Lily f
iddled with the radio until she found a good station that wasn’t in the middle of a long run of commercials. “Ooh, this is my song,” she said. It was half over. “My Girl,” by The Temptations.

  “I’ve got sunshine . . .” she sang. “On a cloudy day.” Nathan and I joined in, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard because it made me feel certain that it wouldn’t be long before someone would sing that song to me.

  But then Nathan’s voice dropped out and he peered into the rearview mirror, checking something behind him.

  “What the hell,” he said under his breath.

  We all stopped singing. “What?” Lily asked. She looked behind her. “What’s with the police car?”

  I looked out the back window and saw its flashing red light. Then I heard a voice that sounded as if it was coming through a megaphone: “Please pull over.”

  Lily frowned and looked at Nathan. Nathan pulled over to the curb and stopped. He kept his hands on the steering wheel.

  “Turn off your ignition,” the megaphone voice instructed.

  Nathan turned off the car. He put both hands on the steering wheel again and waited. Minutes ticked by.

  Lily said under her breath, as if the policeman could hear her, “What does he want?”

  Nathan shook his head. He stared straight ahead. I looked back again. The officer was talking into his radio, and though I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, it felt like he was staring a hole into the back of Nathan’s head.

  Finally, he slowly got out of his patrol car. He hiked up his pants and sauntered over to the driver’s side of Nathan’s car. He stood there with his right hand resting on the giant gun on his hip, then tapped on the window and made a rolling motion with his hand.

  Nathan rolled down the window.

  “I’d like to see your license and registration, please,” the police officer said.

  Nathan lifted half off the seat to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it and found his license. He handed it to the policeman. Then he turned to Lily, his expression stony. “Can you look in the glove compartment for my registration?” She quickly retrieved it and passed it to Nathan, who handed it to the cop. Then he put his hands back on the steering wheel. The policeman seemed to study Nathan’s documents for a long time. Then he took Nathan’s license and registration back to his car. He opened the door and climbed in. He got on his radio again. I heard Nathan sigh. And it was such a sad sigh.