Wild Stars Seeking Midnight Suns

by J. California Cooper

  For the first time, Lily talked back to her mother, “Who? You? Hell, take it, take him! Take the whole damn place, Mama. This what you wanted for me? Well, now this is what I want for you. Take it!” She turned back to the steam press. She slammed the steam press down; it billowed angrily, blowing steam into Sorty’s face.

  Sorty just looked off into space a quick minute, took a deep breath with no steam in it, slurred her eyes at Maddy, and sauntered on out of the shop. “I was livin fore I knew either one of ya!” The door had almost closed behind her when she stuck her head back in, saying, “I’ll be back next week, my rent is gonna be due.” She smiled Maddy a “good-bye.”

  Maddy always took care of all things outside the shop, except for shopping for food. Lily always cooked, so she always had to shop. “The kitchen is a wife’s domain!” Maddy said.

  Because Lily never did much outside of the shop, Maddy told her, “You don’t need to go spendin good money for clothes you don’t wear noway.” Lily couldn’t even afford clothes from the secondhand shops. Again, Maddy told her, “Wear some of these clothes we have done cleaned and ain’t never got paid for. Them people ain’t never comin back to get em. I ought’a have a sale on em. You pick some of them, fore I sell em.”

  The only time Lily Bea got money to spend was when she had to shop for food. It was also the only time she had choices she could make for herself; what she wanted to cook. She really relished the few days a month she had to shop for food. It was a time when she would be alone.

  Lily Bea would slowly walk by all the little shops with their windows full of food and sundry things. Thinking. “My marriage to a ‘businessman’ was supposed to make my life better. Now, I’m working harder than I ever have in my life. And . . . it may never end. I still have nothing I can call my own. Not even that damn steam press. I make the money, but he parcels it out to me like I am a child. And I never get to buy anything I really want.”

  In the markets, her heart beat faster as she looked at all the choices. Not because she could buy all she wanted, but because the limit of the money was the limit of choice. She could buy only one of this or one of that, and not the ones she wanted. She would see all the different things that she would love to eat, her mouth would water, but she could not afford them. She could cut corners and save coupons, but the cutting in no way allowed her to purchase much, or anything exciting, from all the choices in the stores.

  Sometimes she just went into a store because the window was so full of appetizing things to drink and eat. She wandered around, looking at the different succulent meats, the breads, the preserves and jams, the wines and champagnes she had read of, but never tasted. In fact, she had never tasted most all of these things.

  When she lived with her family it was always “soul food”; now in her own home, Maddy wanted soul food all the time. Meat and potatos and grease. The small sum of money she had to spend did not allow real choices. She would sigh, “I would really like a lamb chop, with mint jelly, a salad, and a glass of wine with my dinner, just once.” For the few moments, with a little money in her hand, she could allow herself to dream.

  And dream she did. Lily Bea had always been quiet, alone in her world. So now, with any conversation between Maddy and Lily down to bare necessities, she lived in her mind and books. In dreams. He would often watch her for long periods, surreptitiously, longing for her body. Any body, but Lily especially because her body was supposed to belong to him. When saliva had gathered in the hollows of his mouth, he would swallow and ask her, “What you thinkin bout, woman?”

  She would turn her head, almost, to him and answer, “Nothing.” If the answer changed, it was, “Bout this work.”

  During these times he received a special order of delicate silks and laces sent from Mr. Forest, owner of the rich folks’ cleaners, the Epitome Cleaners. His first thought was Lily knew how to do that, so he handed them to her, thinking, “She so smart, she done been to school so much! So do the work then!” All he had left to do were the deliveries.

  As it turned out, when Lily had completed the work, Maddy really was ill. He could not make the delivery. In the past, because he thought Lily was ugly, he had not wanted her to go out among his better customers. He did not want them to see how his wife looked. “And in them worn out clothes, too,” he said to himself.

  To Lily he said, “Wear your best clothes. You got to go all way crosstown. When you get there, ask for Mr. Forest. I always talk to the owners, if they there, cause I am a owner. If he ain’t there just give it to whoever at the counter. They will give you a check; take it and come directly back here with it. Don’t say nothin to him and don’t say nothin to anyone else.”

  She always obeyed. Not from fear. Just, what else could she do? Her spirit was so worn down, so tired, she didn’t even care about being ugly anymore. “Anyway, people don’t seem to see me, and they don’t even stare at me at all, anymore. Besides, so what if people do stare at me?”

  In fact, I had noticed that despite Lily Bea’s dissatisfaction with sex, almost an abhorrence of it, her body, her skin, exuded a faint misty aura of sexuality to men. Women could see it, too. I did. It seemed like you could almost touch it. It might have come from the fact that her body wanted to be loved. I know she liked Robert Earner, but they never got near that far along in their unexpected feelings. Didn’t have a chance, I guess. But, sometimes if you can’t let a thing out, it will come out on its own. The sexual aura was there. Maybe that was why some people stared. She never looked ugly to me as she became grown.

  The Epitome Cleaners was way across town in the best shopping section of the city. She could walk and save the carfare, or she could take the public transportation and just sit, resting. Her heart lightened at the thought. “And I can look out the windows at the shops and people in the free world. I can even stop at the library, and steal an hour or so for myself.”

  Lily Bea had decided, with Maddy’s approval, to wear gray woolen pants, a fresh, lightly starched white blouse, and a fresh white band around her hair. She was so pleased to be out in the fresh air with no steam in her face, and the sun shining through a light misty rain. Devil whipping his wife, they used to say where I came from.

  She sat on the slowly moving bus holding tightly to the box filled with the delicate garments she was to deliver. Bright shops along the street had her full attention. Windows were full of colorful, inviting items: clothes, lamps, food, shoes, hats, and such. Her eyes were filled and spilling over with her thoughts of owning any things so beautiful.

  The Epitome Cleaners establishment was, if you can imagine it, a grand place of business. They served the best people, the rich. They handled the uniforms of the best places, their sheets, satin bedspreads and drapes, napkins and linens of the best hotels and restaurants. As well as the gorgeous clothing of the rich. The shop was not extravagantly outfitted, not gaudy. It was simple, but everything was of the best: fine drapes at their wide windows, the polished, shining counters were of mahogany, the shelves were of cedar. You could see on a rack billowing skirts, ruffled somethings half covered with plastic covers, and all like that. Oh, you knew you were around money.

  When Lily Bea reached her stop, she was amazed at the rich array of shops. She slowly made her way to and entered the Epitome Cleaners, her mind in awe at a place grander than any home or place she had ever seen. An ocean stood between her knowledge of the rich, and her own poor life.

  She stepped, hesitantly, to the counter where two older men were talking together. One of the well-dressed men was the owner, Mr. Weldon Forest; the other was an old customer and friend of the owner. Lily stood there silently, waiting to be shown what to do next.

  The counterperson was, momentarily, in the back of the store. So the owner, Mr. Forest, turned to her and asked, “Yes? May I help you?”

  Lily looked at the slightly grey-haired man, in the steel gray suit, and said, “I have brought your . . . order?”

  He turned his full attention to her. “What order? For wh
at?”

  She answered, and the sound of her voice entered his brain. He was a very sensitive man, a lover of classical music. The voice that was soft, smooth, silken, low, and dreamy enchanted him. He looked her over, without seeming to; she looked nothing like her voice sounded.

  Weldon Forest was a tall, fifty-three-year-old, wealthy, married, bored, and lonely man. He loved his wife of thirty-three years, but there was no surprise, no excitement, there. The son he adored had his own business on the East Coast. For years now, his pleasures in life were art, music, and his business. He liked the touch and feel of certain materials. He loved beauty.

  Mr. Forest decided to transact his own business with her . . . so to hear more of the sound coming from her lips. The lips through which the beautiful sound had come, in his eyes, were beautiful. He forgot the friend he had been talking to, giving all of his attention to Lily Bea. He prolonged his questions.

  “Who are you delivering for?”

  “Maddy Nettles. We do your delicates.”

  “Oh, then you are his helper?”

  Lily Bea hadn’t known how ashamed she was of Maddy; she looked down at the box still in her arms. “Well, yes sir. I did these things.”

  “Where do you live? Is this your home, this city?”

  “I was born here. I live . . . here.”

  He wanted to hear more of the voice. He smiled down at her; she continued to keep her eyes down. “I was born here in this city, also. Where did you go to school?”

  She looked up, smiling one of her small, hesitant, charming smiles. Her white teeth flashed slightly, quickly. She answered him. With the white teeth showing against the dark skin, he noticed her color. He could think of no other questions to ask her. He realized he was staring at her; he remembered his friend looking at him. He remembered the box she was holding. He reached to take the box from her. “That box must be heavy, give it to me.” Her hands were quite warm as he touched them.

  It was not his usual job, but he wanted to hear more of her voice, and see her smile again, her eyes. He opened the box and commented on the work she had brought. “Maddy just keeps improving his work. This is very beautifully done. These items look as though they have never been worn.”

  Lily Bea’s heart smiled in pleasure at a compliment for her. She smiled her big smile that so few people ever saw. But Weldon Forest saw the smile that changed her whole face. He thought, “Why, she is a beautiful woman.”

  Lily Bea looked up in pride. “I did these, sir.”

  “You . . . you did this work?”

  “Yes sir, I love to work with such beautiful things. I just . . .” Suddenly she felt foolish. “I just love to feel them.”

  His skin began to feel very warm. He could even feel the red blush on his face as he thought, “What is wrong with me?” He said, “Let me see your hands?”

  Now she knew why Maddy made her cream her hands and wear gloves when she worked the steam press. She showed Weldon her hands, her long, slender, fine hands with the nails clean and clipped to her flesh. So smooth with the special creams her husband bought for this work at the cleaners. Because you must have nothing that can snag or pull on satins and silks. Brocades were stronger, but silks reacted quickly to everything.

  Mr. Forest did not touch strangers easily, but he reached out to take and examine her hands. She smiled up at him, anticipating his approval. He looked into her eyes unexpectantly, and instantly a tiny tingle in his spine made him let her hands go quickly, as he thought, “What is going on here?”

  He said to her, with a tremulous smile of his own, “Well, and it is very good work. I hope you shall continue.”

  Lily’s smile faded slowly, even as her heart held to its thrill of being complimented, and she turned to leave. The counterperson had returned.

  “Ohhh, wait,” Weldon Forest said, “I must pay you, and you must not leave your container. We don’t have a check ready, so I will pay you in cash. You can sign for it.”

  Lily turned back, smile gone, head bent down again. The container was being emptied, she waited to pick it up, and held her hand out for the money. Mr. Forest was not a foolish man; he would not flirt with a strange woman. He was unable to understand, himself, what was happening to him; he thought it nothing.

  He watched her write her name as she signed a receipt. He was also unable to help himself when he took the money from the clerk, and reached to hand it to Lily. He took her hand in his, held it as he placed the money in it. She was still looking down at the floor as her hand closed around the money. She turned to walk away.

  She was almost at the door, still bemused by the bright richness of the shop, when she heard Weldon ask, “Aren’t you going to count it?”

  She turned her face to him, and asked, “Do I need to?”

  The man was further enchanted by her trust. And, yes, the beauty he saw. He answered, “No, my dear, no, you don’t. Not when I pay you. But it makes good business to always count your money.” He thought a moment. “And our boy will deliver the next order to you, soon. I’m sure we have some things waiting already.”

  When she was gone, his friend, who had been patiently waiting and watching, asked, “What was that all about? She was an unattractive Black woman, though she was clean. Do you always give your servers such concern?”

  Weldon had regained his sense and composure. “Well, I’ve been doing business with him a long time.” He said, without looking at his friend, “I thought she was rather attractive, but, well . . . you’re right.” Yet, when he thought of her a moment later, he remembered her beauty. And so it passed. He still wondered what had happened to him. Was something the matter with him?

  On her walk home, Lily Bea was not thinking so much of him as she was of his shop. Why should she? She thought she was ugly, and was only embarrassed at her nerve to even talk to him. “But, he was a nice man.” She sighed. “I like going to that beautiful store to make the delivery.” By the time she reached the library, she could not remember a better day in her life. “Being free is everything. That’s what I want to be. Free!” She made a few free dancing twirls as she entered her favorite building.

  When she reached her home, Maddy counted the money, saying, “I didn’t know he was gonna pay cash. Did you spend any ’a this money, Lily? Cause I need all the money we got comin round here! I’m gonna have to cut your mama down some, I can’t afford to keep her and you too! You done been to that library again! I told you we ain’t got time for all that readin you want’a do!”

  Lily Bea didn’t answer. She went to her “room” and lay on the pallet. She smiled at the books she had gotten from the library, and opened one to read. When he hollered to her, she answered, “I’m tired. I’m goin to rest till it’s dinnertime, then I’ll cook. But, now, I’m going to read.”

  In a few weeks, when the next bundle of items was received and completed, she delivered them. The owner, Mr. Forest, had specified what date they should be returned because he wanted to be sure he was in the shop when she came.

  Time had dulled his memory, but he still remembered the last words his friend had said when Lily Bea had come. He, himself, remembered Lily as being unattractive, “but . . . there was something else about her. I can’t put my finger on it.” He didn’t know why, really, he hadn’t forgotten the thing. It wouldn’t come clear in his mind. “Was it her voice?” Then, “What am I thinking about? She works for me, for God’s sake!”

  His boredom and his loneliness made any excitement important to him. Some sense in him remembered the thrill Lily Bea’s voice, smile, and touch had given him. He would shake his head in annoyance. “It is absurd that I would even think I had such feelings for a little black woman. A poor working woman, at that.”

  He had, in the past, had a mistress or two, but it seemed to have added up to lust, not for him, but for his financial help. He was a generous man. But, as to love, he had never “loved” anyone except the woman he had married long ago. “But, these stir-rings . . . Just old age, I suppose.
>
  “Maybe I need to take a trip somewhere. But, where? It’s all the same every place, no matter where.” After a moment’s pause, “I could always go back and spend a week looking around the Louvre again. I never see all of it.” He brightened a moment, then his dark mood returned. “But Wilhamena won’t want to go with me, and I don’t want to go alone again.” He shook his head, casting the thoughts out of his mind. “I must learn to be satisfied with what life has given me. Who could wish for more?”

  The next order from Epitome Cleaners had been sent to the Clean Cleaners, and been completed by Lily Bea. It seems impossible, but she took even more care with the fragile things. “Now that they know it is my work, I want it to be perfect.” She also wanted another lovely free afternoon to herself.

  Knowing Maddy, as she did, she did not act excited in any way about making the delivery. If he knew she wanted to, he would rub that leg down and make delivery hisself.

  For the first time, Mr. Forest had specified when they must be returned. He didn’t want to be at the shop all day, so the date and the afternoon were specified. He remembered Lily’s face, vaguely, as unattractive, but he remembered her. There was something he could not put his finger on, exactly. He only knew he wanted to be there when, and if, she came.

  Maddy’s leg, back, and feet really did ache, hurt, and discomfort him. Lily was acting like she didn’t want to go, but he would have had to ask her to go anyway.

  Lily Bea took a book to read on the bus. She had started smiling in pleasure even a block away from Maddy; she loved the freedom, but she loved the ride across town just as much. The chance to see the better side of the city, the beautiful clothes, the grand homes that the bus passed. Her own dreams, fragilely thin as they were, fluttered, lifted. “Oh, not for me; never for me. But just to know all this beauty, this kind of life, is out here . . . for somebody.”

  A shadow flickered across Lily’s face. “It is almost painful to have to travel back to that dim, dark, little, dingy, stingy, strange shop where my life waits for me.” She threw those thoughts from her mind so they would not ruin her day. “I have enough of that when I am there!” She opened the book of World’s Art Treasures she had brought.