Jennifer’s grandmother answered the door and smiled down at me as if I had just recovered from a long fever. “The girls are in the back,” she said. I walked through the living room and the dining room, then through the French doors, toward laughter coming from the side patio. Linda Cruz looked up from the magazine they were twittering over and gave me a small, polite smile. She was wearing the shell earrings.
They had the magazine open to a center spread of Fabian onstage singing before an audience of mostly girls.
“Linda brought over the latest Teen. It’s got a lot of pictures of Fabian,” Jennifer said.
“Oh.” I placed the script on the patio table, but something told me not to sit down.
“You want to work on that now?” Jennifer asked, glancing at Linda.
I shrugged. “If you want.”
“Can we work on it later? Maybe around four or so?”
I was a little bit surprised, but I shrugged dismissively. “If you want,” I said again, and it was okay. If Jennifer would rather—at the moment—hang out with Miss “I can’t have colored people at my house either. If she came up our walkway, my father would just turn her around and send her on her way,” then so be it. I could think of other things to do.
But I knew this wasn’t really a dismissal. It was more Jennifer shuffling things around. I noticed the secret pleading in her smile. I saw an apology. “Could we do it later?” she repeated. Please.
“Okay. Later, then.” I walked back through her house and out the front door. As I crossed the street, I noticed I didn’t feel all that bad. There were other things to put my mind on anyway.
Nathan’s words were coming out of Lily’s mouth more often now. We were having dinner and I was wondering if we’d ever sit together at the table as a family again. Our mother said something about a bunch of fools burning down their own neighborhoods and my sister said “elitist” under her breath (a new word for her, I was sure).
“What did you say?” our mother asked sharply.
“That’s elitist commentary,” Lily replied.
Our mother frowned. “It’s just a fact. It’s stupid to destroy your own neighborhood.”
“And you’re saying that sitting at this table, in this nice house on a hill with nice views of the ocean on one side—on a clear day—and downtown on the other, with your meals usually prepared by Mrs. Baylor—”
“I’ve worked hard for everything I have,” our mother interrupted. “I couldn’t find a respectable job coming out of college, so I did piece-work at a tie factory where I got paid by the number of ties—”
“I’ve heard all this, Mom. But you were light skinned and, quote unquote, pretty, so you got Daddy. And you got to move to this house. You don’t see yourself as privileged?”
“If people work hard—”
“Yeah, some will escape being black, but—”
“Why do I keep hearing black coming out of your mouth? Where’d you get that word?” our mother asked, shaking her head slowly. “Wait. You don’t even need to tell me.”
Lily put down her fork and cocked her head to the side, then she poured out this little speech—using Nathan’s jargon, I was pretty sure: “You have to understand, Mom, that this is the result of years of frustration and systemic racism and police brutality. Years. Everyone in LA knows that when the police stop you, if you’re Negro, you keep your hands on the steering wheel and it’s ‘Yes sir, no sir’ all the way.” She took a sip of water. “They’re just itching to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“I’ve never had that problem.”
“That’s you.”
“Like I said, if people work hard—”
“Didn’t Grandma Nanny work hard? And your father, Grandpa Clemons? And didn’t that man he sharecropped for cheat him every chance he got? Always making it so he owed and owed and was never able to catch up? You’ve told us all the stories. And didn’t you work hard? Walking three miles to school while the white school bus drove past you?”
“And it paid off. I was able to go to college and—”
“You were the exception, Mom. Don’t you know that?”
I’d never seen Lily so impassioned. She was feeling everything she was saying.
“What does all that have to do with this?” my mother asked. “There’s just no excuse. And you can’t make me think there is. Destroying your own neighborhood. That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of.” She shook her head slowly.
Lily sighed. “They were aiming for white-owned businesses that sell inferior goods at inflated prices. There’s a study out about how the poor actually pay more for the basic necessities.”
That was a dead giveaway. Since when did Lily research stuff or even know about studies? She sat there primly, slipping a forkful of potato into her mouth, then chewing it with a really superior look on her face. I thought, I must somehow put a scene like this in my novel. Which reminded me that I had to get back to it. But not then, because it was a good TV night.
And not the next day either because Lily was off work and she and her “friend” Nathan were taking me to the La Brea Tar Pits. It was Nathan’s idea. Because we’d all lived in Los Angeles our whole lives and we didn’t really know what the tar pits were.
After dinner, my mother seemed to have put the disagreement with Lily behind her. She appeared in the doorway of our room while Lily was writing in her journal and I was working on my novel. I’d changed my mind about watching TV and was outlining the second chapter.
“I’ve got a surprise,” she said to Lily. “From your father. And me.” She smiled.
“Follow me.” She glanced back. “You too, Sophia.”
We followed our mother down the hall to our father’s office. The surprise was going to be Daddy. I just knew it. He was going to be sitting behind his desk—or standing. He would try to keep a straight face, even when we rushed into his arms and he had to hug all three of us at once. We were going to be together again, and this time we would act like a family.
Our mother quietly opened the door and stood aside to allow us to go in ahead of her. The room was empty. No Daddy beaming from behind his desk. There was, however, a portable typewriter on the desk, in a little powder-blue case that snapped shut like a piece of luggage. And standing proudly next to the desk like soldiers were three matching powder-blue suitcases.
“We always paid close attention to which girls came with their own typewriter and what their luggage looked like,” our mother said, smiling. “This is going to give you the right start—on the right foot.” She pulled her eyes away from the suitcases and looked over at Lily to see her reaction.
Lily just stood there staring. She smiled, but it wasn’t her happy smile. I wondered if our mother noticed that, too. Lily took in a deep breath and broadened her smile. “It’s really nice.” She moved over to our mother and gave her a hug. Not a big hug, but a hug.
“This is from your father, too. He got you the luggage and I got you the portable typewriter.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“I want you to have a good start at college, Lily. You should have seen the suitcases I brought to Spelman. And they weren’t even mine. I had to borrow from relations who were better off. And once I unpacked, my daddy had to haul the suitcases back to them. I couldn’t even visit the homes of friends I made because I didn’t own a suitcase.”
I knew my mother had a whole sad side to her past, but it was always a surprise when I was reminded of it.
So now Lily had her own luggage—for Spelman.
CHAPTER 26
The La Brea Tar Pits
* * *
FINALLY, MY MOTHER returned to her art gallery in Leimert Park Village. She had business to take care of, artists to reassure that their work was safe. She was gone by the time Nathan picked us up.
He had a big grin on his face and a kiss on the cheek for his mother when she opened the front door. I was ready with my pad for jotting down random thoughts I co
uld use later in my writing, just in case the tar pits turned out to be super boring.
I climbed into the back seat and looked out the window at Jennifer’s quiet house. I didn’t know how to feel about her. Our friendship was changing. Then Nathan was saying something to Lily as he started the car; it was making her stiffen. Even though he was telling her some “good news.”
He’d talked to his roommate’s father. It seemed the father had a café next to the bookstore on Bancroft. He was going to need someone in September to replace a waitress whose husband had gotten drafted. The husband had to go down to Camp Pendleton for basic training, so she’d be moving down there with him. Nathan looked at Lily quickly. His eyes went back to the road. But I could tell he was waiting for some kind of response from her.
Lily said nothing. Nathan looked over at her again. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Can we discuss this later?” she asked.
He put his eyes back on the road.
Then he said something that made me realize I’d been right all along about Lily’s plans. “So you sit out the year, save money, and start next year. It can be done, and done independently of your parents.”
“Can we talk about this later?” she said again.
Maybe Lily was thinking of her new powder-blue matching Samsonite. Or the portable typewriter now sitting on her desk, latched shut but all ready to go. To Spelman.
I looked out the window and thought how untouched this part of Los Angeles was compared with the streets in Nathan’s part of the city. How unaffected. The palm trees along Wilshire were nice and uniform, like soldiers standing at attention, and the medians were landscaped with flowers and low shrubs. The boulevard was manicured and confident and purposeful. What was the word for this contrast? We’d passed a park on La Cienega and kids were playing happily, carefree. The contrast was . . . amazing. I just kept looking and looking.
At the tar pits, we wandered around from exhibit to exhibit. Soon I grew bored and wondered why we’d come. I could have stayed home writing. Even when the docent was taking us around the Fossil Lab and then on to the Observation Pit to see the real bones of a saber-toothed cat, Lily and Nathan were lukewarm in their enthusiasm. By the time we saw the Wolf Wall in the Fossil Lab and its four hundred wolf skulls, I was growing weary. I just wanted to go to the museum store to see what I could buy. I had money—Daddy had slipped me a five when he’d come by, and I felt rich. There might be a neat pop-up book, or a dinosaur diorama that I could add to my collection.
As soon as Nathan and Lily found a table on the outdoor patio and sat down to put their heads together for a chat, I told them I was off to find the store.
I drifted around picking up stuff, examining it, and then returning it to the exact same spot. The store lady was watching me, and I didn’t want her to think I was trying to steal something. It was so tiresome—people always thinking you might steal.
Nothing was grabbing me. I didn’t want a little brown aragonite figurine of T. rex, with its mouth open and its teeth bared, nor did I want the Dinosaurs of the Cretaceous Period poster. I wandered around some more. The saber-tooth earrings looked interesting. I held them up to my ears and checked myself in the mirror on the counter, all the while feeling the clerk still keeping an eye on me. No. The earrings made me look crazy.
I kind of wanted the saber-toothed cat’s skull necklace, but then I decided I’d better not. I was going into ninth grade, to a new school. Lily had already told me I should watch my weirdness, keep it in check. I didn’t want to make myself more challenged socially than I needed to be.
I held the necklace up to my chest, then put it back on the counter. I wandered around some more. There were T-shirts with dinosaurs and all kinds of mugs. I didn’t need a mug until I started drinking tea or coffee, and that wouldn’t be until high school or college.
I headed to the book section. I’d been purposely avoiding it because books are what I always fall back on, and I needed to branch out. Immediately one book, face out on the shelf, caught my eye: The Book of General Cluelessness: What People Don’t Know About Scientific Discoveries. I wanted it. It would make me even more interesting, assuming I already was somewhat interesting. I was pretty sure I would be the only twelve-year-old entering the ninth grade; I wouldn’t turn thirteen until the third week of school. I needed to know how to be informed about something and not completely clueless.
I carried the book over to the clerk waiting at the cash register. She looked at the title, then looked at me. She rang it up and slipped the book into a bag. I felt I’d made a wise purchase. This book was going to help me navigate my last year of junior high without Lily to set me on the right course. Without anyone to prop me up.
When I returned to the outdoor patio, I could tell that something had happened while I was gone. Something that had Nathan leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out and his arms crossed, looking off toward Fairfax with a frown on his face. Lily was sitting with her chin in her hand, gazing off in the same direction, but with a wistful expression. Nathan looked down at the ground. They both seemed deep in thought.
“Can we get something to eat at Farmers Market?” I asked. We weren’t far from Fairfax and Third Streets. I hadn’t been there since sixth grade. I loved all the stalls and the small eateries selling different kinds of food. One shop sold fudge, and behind its plate glass window you could see it being made.
“What’d you buy?” Lily asked, reaching for my bag. “Another book?” I was hoping she wouldn’t take it out and read the title—at least not then. She handed the bag back. Something was definitely on her mind. If she hadn’t been preoccupied, she would have pulled the book out the bag, read the title, and then challenged me to explain why I had bought it.
We didn’t go to Farmers Market. We went home. In silence. Nathan said not a word. When he pulled up in front of the house, he reached across Lily and opened the door for her. Again, I noted that he didn’t walk around the front of the car to open the door—and he didn’t open the door for me at all.
He said nothing as we got out. Not even goodbye. What had happened while I was in the museum store? What did all this silence mean?
My sister went directly to our room and closed the door. Quietly, this time. It was serious.
But it wasn’t long before I heard her on the phone with Mrs. Singer, who was calling to ask Lily if she could fill in for Phyllis. Phyllis was sick. I was allowed back in the room then. Lily looked relieved, actually. I guess she was happy to put her mind on something other than Nathan.
“Is Nathan taking you?” I asked.
“No. Nathan is not taking me.” She reached back and zipped up her aqua-colored shift. She slipped on matching aqua flats and grabbed her purse. Then she left. I heard the front door close behind her. She would be walking. Pointing her nose toward Marlton Square and heading that way—with resolve.
CHAPTER 27
Really Over
* * *
I WAS REACHING UNDER MY BED for my binder and wondering how to approach the scene where Minerva doesn’t get invited to a schoolmate’s party, when I heard loud voices coming from the front porch. I tiptoed to the door and stood there, listening. The voices were Nathan’s and Lily’s. I didn’t want Mrs. Baylor to catch me eavesdropping, so I slipped into my parents’ room, where the window was open.
I could hear them clearly. Lily was interrupting what Nathan was saying. “Nathan, please! Let me have this one year.” She was talking about Spelman.
“Let you have this one year? What does that even mean?” he said.
“I can’t just sit out a year and work in some diner.”
“Why not? In the long run it’s not going to matter. Why are you so afraid of being on your own? Growing up? Doing a little grunt work.”
I peeked out the window. He was pacing back and forth with his palms on his head as if frustrated that he needed to make this speech and, yet, wasn’t making himself understood.
�
�You know I’ve been working. I know what work is like.”
“In a boutique.” Then he seemed to skip over that and move onto the gist of the matter. “You love me?”
My heart seemed to stop. He was asking my sister if she loved him.
The pause was too long. Even I could figure that out. She was taking too long to answer. Her answer should have been on her tongue as soon as he got the question out. She should have said, “Yes,” right away.
“Yes,” she said quietly. So she was saying yes. My sister was in love with Nathan. She’d said yes.
“You want to be with me?”
“Yes,” she almost whispered, and I believed her. “But I can’t sit out a year. Please understand.”
“You know,” he said, “you’re not that different from your mother. You just imagine you are. But you’re falling in line with the bourgeoisie agenda, aren’t you?”
“I’m not like my mother. I’m nothing like her. I just don’t want to disappoint her. I thought I could, but I can’t. It means a lot to her—me going to Spelman. She’s had this in her head since I was a little girl. She had a rough time there—not really fitting in with all the old colored families of the East Coast and Atlanta. She was smart and got a scholarship and there were her looks, but still she never felt as if she really belonged. And now . . . she’s counting on me to have this great experience. The one she never had.”
He just stood there looking at her.
“She even bought me this beautiful set of Samsonite—powder blue, all matching. Because she’d had to borrow old, broken-down suitcases from relatives, and that made her feel so bad and worthless.”
He held up his palm. “Stop. Please.” Then he laughed to himself. “You really are that shallow, aren’t you?” He let out a short, quick breath. “I have been a fool.” He turned toward his car, which was parked at a haphazard angle in front of our house.
It All Comes Down to This Page 22
