Friendship Cake

by Lynne Hinton

  Lana’s eyes filled with tears, and for a brief moment she was a child again. Margaret leaned over and held her.

  “Now, the first thing we need to do is get you to a doctor. Do you want me to take you, or do you want me to go with you to tell your mother tonight?”

  Lana wiped her face on the napkin under her mug. “I think I need to tell her before I go to the doctor, but I want Wallace with me.” She stopped and smiled. “He loves me, you know. But his mother”—she blew a puff of air—“and his grandmother, God, they have such plans for him. They’re always talking about him being the first Jenkins to go to an Ivy League school, the first Jenkins to be a doctor or lawyer. Believe me, father is not the role they had planned for him.” She teared up and looked away.

  “Young Wallace can still be anything he wants to be, as can you, my dear. And Janice and Jessie, they’re good women. They’ll come around.” She patted Lana on the hand. “What are your feelings for Wallace? Do you love him, Lana?”

  Lana turned back to look at Margaret. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t really dated a lot of guys.” She took a sip. The cocoa had cooled down. “I’m not sure. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. He knows everything about me. He’s funny and smart, and he’s the best person I’ve ever known. You know what I mean, he just always does the right thing. I love that about him.”

  She stopped and pulled the mug of cocoa closer to her.

  “I think I love him, but Mama, she just can’t accept that he’s black. So I don’t know. I feel like I have to choose between my family and him. I’ve always felt like that, even when we were just friends.”

  Margaret nodded. “Well, that baby didn’t get to choose, so we’re just going to have to find a way that you don’t either. And if your family forces you to make a decision like that, then you’ll choose love, however that looks, whoever that’s with. You’ll choose love because that’s more important than anything, especially for a baby.”

  Lana put down the mug and rubbed her stomach as if to make the words sink in. Her eyes were filled with tears.

  “Now,” Margaret said, looking at the wall clock. “We better go over and pick up Wallace and get to your mother’s house before she goes to bed.”

  Lana wiped her eyes again, brushed back her hair, pulled her chair away from the table, and stood up. “I think I’ll call Wallace first, you know, let him know I’m going to do this.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me. The phone’s by the fridge, there on the wall.” Margaret got up from her chair and took the mugs to the sink. She tried not to listen to the girl’s conversation, but it was hard to avoid eavesdropping.

  “I’m at Ms. Peele’s. No”—she looked towards Margaret at the sink—“she’s cool. We’re going to tell Mom. I want you to go with me.” There was a pause. “About fifteen minutes. Okay, we’ll meet you there.” She turned away from Margaret and faced the wall. “Me too.” And she hung up the phone.

  “He’ll meet us at my house. I think he’s going to tell his grandmother before he goes. I’m sure relieved that I don’t have to be there for that one.” Lana walked over to the sink and stuck her hands under the faucet. She dried them on the towel Margaret handed her. “I’m really glad you’re going with me. My mom respects you. She won’t lose it too bad if you’re there.”

  “Yes, I guess she’ll remember that I was her Sunday School teacher too. I have a few stories about your mother when she was your age.” Margaret folded the towel and set it on the kitchen counter. “If things start to get a little out of hand, I’ll pull one or two out of my memory bank and shake things up a little.”

  Lana nodded her head and smiled.

  “So, you ready to go?” Margaret picked up her keys and opened the back door.

  The young woman looked around the kitchen as if she would be different the next time she came into the room. Then she nodded. “Okay, here goes nothing!” She walked out the door as Margaret turned out the light and followed her.

  The ride from Margaret’s to Dorothy’s daughter’s house was quiet as the two women tried to put their thoughts into the words they were going to say. Margaret wondered about how it must sound to a mother that her little girl is pregnant, if such news can really break a heart. She thought about her place in this mess and why it was she had been given such an honorable role among the young people in the community. She thought about her own barrenness and what it meant to her not to have children.

  She and Luther had had only one conversation about the fact that there were no children. And one question, with an answer of “I don’t know” hardly qualifies for a conversation.

  They had been married thirteen years when Margaret finally mustered the courage to ask. “Why do you think I haven’t gotten pregnant?” Luther paused for a moment, then picked up the newspaper and sat down at the table. “I don’t know” was all he said. And because she was busy enough with the farm and looking after her dad and because she wasn’t even sure she really wanted her own children, she had not pursued it any further.

  When Luther died and his sister, Carolyn, commented that it was a crying shame there were no children to share this tragedy, Margaret thought it odd that she did not even consider not having children as another reason to mourn. Perhaps because her mother died when she was such a young girl, Margaret had not ever had the space to entertain notions of what being a mother was like.

  She was not regretful and had never grieved that she did not have children. And somehow she imagined that the girls came to her in their darkest moments of discontent because she would never automatically take their mothers’ side or present the fear or protectiveness that a mother always harbors. She was a safe and reliable ally. She was a wise and trusted friend. And to Margaret this was better than being someone’s mother.

  When they pulled into the driveway, Wallace was already there; he was sitting in his car. Margaret watched as the young man opened the door and stood as his grandmother got out from the passenger’s side.

  “Well, I guess this is it then. You ready?” Margaret turned and faced Lana.

  “I’m a mother now. Courage will be the most important thing I can give my child.” Lana gazed towards Wallace. “After love, of course.” She faced Margaret, who replied, “Of course.”

  They got out of the car, and Lana walked over to Wallace. Immediately they embraced, spoke to each other privately, and walked to the front porch.

  “Beats all, doesn’t it?” Jessie shut the car door, watching the two young people as they walked past her. Lana looked her in the eye and then dropped her face.

  “Are you very disappointed, Jessie?” Margaret put her hand on Jessie’s arm.

  “Oh, I guess a little. This isn’t anything to throw a party about.” She sighed deeply. “But I still believe in that boy. And he’s handling this like a real man. I am proud of him for that. He intends to be a father to that child, even though he doesn’t have a clue what that means.”

  Margaret nodded. “I know. I don’t think anyone really realizes what all that encompasses, do they? But, you know, these two kids have a lot already on their side. They’ve got you. And Lana’s mom, she’ll be upset at first, but she’ll get over the initial shock and be there for them. Janice will support the two of them. She’s your daughter, after all.”

  Jessie interrupted. “And they’ve got you. And I know what I’m talking about now, you’re the best friend a young couple or even a grandmother can have. Yeah, we’ll do okay,” she said as they joined Wallace and Lana at the door, “we’ll all do just fine.”

  She reached up and held Lana’s chin in her hand. “My grandson loves you, Lana Sawyer. That counts for a whole lot in his grandmother’s record book. You’re family now. The Jenkins and Sawyer blood is mingled in that baby’s heart. I’m going to stand by you, you and your child. I will never turn my back on family.”

  Lana threw her arms around Jessie, almost knocking her off the porch. “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins. I was so afraid.”


  “Well, I reckon you still got one more bridge to cross with your family. And since we’re here, and your grandmother’s looking out the bedroom window, we better not stop.” They all glanced towards the back bedroom, where the curtains quickly fell back together.

  Lana and Wallace both took in deep breaths. Margaret rang the bell. The door opened, and they all walked in.

  *

  Peggy’s Fried Okra

  4 cups okra (cut crosswise)

  Flour

  4 slices fried bacon, coarsely chopped

  Bacon drippings

  2 cups peeled and chopped tomatoes

  Salt and pepper

  Cut okra crosswise and flour. Cook bacon. Fry okra in bacon drippings until brown. Add tomatoes to okra, stir in bacon. Season to taste. Simmer until tomatoes are tender. Stir often.

  —PEGGY DUVAUGHN

  *

  The doorbell was ringing and Louise was trying to get Roxie’s clothes on her. Breakfast had been a catastrophe because Roxie kept saying that she was being poisoned and wouldn’t eat anything put in front of her. Louise had tried oatmeal, eggs, even a cinnamon coffee cake. It was just going to be a bad day, and, as bad days went, nothing was going to change that. Louise left Roxie with her pants hanging around her knees and went to the door.

  “Come in, Bea. We’re having a difficult morning.” Louise started walking back towards the hospital bed. “Roxie thinks the milk is rat bait and her blouse is a straitjacket. She’s fighting against everything.” She turned to Bea, who was following behind. “Maybe I should call and cancel the appointment. She can be a real handful when she’s like this.” Louise sat down in the chair next to the bed. Roxie was trying to take off her underwear.

  “Nonsense. I mothered three children. I think I can handle things just fine.” Bea walked in the room and put her things on the coffee table. She took a look around, at the room, at the window, at the hospital bed, and finally at Roxie. “Good morning, Roxie. I’m Beatrice. Are you having a bad morning with Louise?” Bea went and knelt down in front of Roxie.

  “They’re trying to kill me. Where’s the supervisor? He won’t put up with this nonsense.” She stood up and almost knocked Beatrice down.

  Beatrice thought for a moment. “Well, the supervisor sent me here to check on things. I’m sort of like the assistant to the supervisor. You can tell me all about the problems, but first I think you need to put your clothes on.” Beatrice picked up the blouse and pants. Roxie folded her arms about her waist and showed a determination for staying naked. Beatrice waited a minute, still standing with Roxie’s clothes in her arms, smiled at her, and then, much to Louise’s surprise, Roxie let Beatrice put them on her. There was no struggle at all.

  Finally Beatrice asked, “Now, why is someone trying to kill you? Do you know something you’re not supposed to know?” she whispered. “Have you done something that’s made them mad?”

  Roxie looked serious. She was giving great thought to the questions. “I think it’s about the red thread. I took some of the red thread.” She spoke very softly. “I think they know.”

  Beatrice whispered in reply. “Then we’ll put some red thread back so they won’t miss it.” She turned to Louise. “Do you have any red thread?”

  Louise was baffled by this entire exchange. She sat watching until Beatrice spoke her name; then she jumped. “Um, yeah, sure.” And she went into another room, brought back a spool of red thread, and handed it to Beatrice, who gave it to Roxie. Roxie started to cry.

  Beatrice sat beside her on the bed and rocked her. “There, there, Roxie. See, we have plenty of red thread. It’s okay. Nobody’s ever going to try to hurt you again.” Then she reached over for a tissue and gave it to Roxie, who wiped her own eyes and nose.

  “Well, Louise, you better tell me if there are any particular instructions I need to know, and then you need to hurry and get dressed.”

  Louise looked down at her khaki pants bought from the men’s department at Sears and the University of North Carolina sweatshirt. She thought she was dressed. “Actually, Bea, this is what I’m wearing to the doctor’s, but, you’re right, I do need to get going.”

  Louise began looking for her shoes. “She usually naps after breakfast and then has a snack around ten thirty. She takes the orange pill then. I don’t put a diaper on her during the day because generally she can tell me when she needs to go. But it’s always a gamble. Snack is a piece of fruit or peanut butter crackers.” Louise walked into the kitchen with Beatrice close behind her.

  “Here’s the ten-thirty pill. It’s a vitamin really. But I think they help her memory a little. There’s juice in the fridge. The fruit is in the small Tupperware dishes, and the crackers are there on the counter. She didn’t eat breakfast, so she may want both this morning. She really doesn’t eat much, though.” Louise was trying to remember everything important.

  “Here’s the doctor’s number.” She wrote the number on a pad of paper.

  “I may stop by the bank on my way home. But don’t worry about lunch. I’ll be home by twelve thirty at the latest.” She tore off the paper and put down the pad near Beatrice’s arm. “And if you don’t mind, just jot down her intake and the things that she says. I like to keep a record.”

  “Well, it all seems easy enough. Now you run along, and we’ll be fine.” Beatrice opened the door for Louise, who stood as if she was waiting for something.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes and said in a motherly tone, “We’ll be fine.”

  “Let me just go and say goodbye.” Louise went back into the den.

  Beatrice stayed by the door while Louise explained to Roxie that she was only going to the doctor’s and would be right back. Roxie seemed uninterested in Louise’s plans and began counting the birds in the backyard. Louise came back into the kitchen, grabbed her wallet. “Thank you, Bea. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “It’s fine. Take your time. We’ll be here all day.” Beatrice almost pushed Louise through the screen door. “Bye, bye now!” She waved briefly, then shut the door.

  Louise stood on the porch, suddenly feeling like a stranger. She considered not going to the doctor’s at all but going back inside and telling Beatrice that her “services” were not needed. But she knew that that was being silly, and that she really needed a break from being in the house with Roxie alone. Sometimes the constant fighting made her weary. She walked to the car, got in, and headed off to her appointment as planned.

  When she got to the office, she checked in with the receptionist. Peggy DuVaughn was in the waiting room, and when she saw Louise she called her over to sit beside her.

  “Are you okay, Louise?” Peggy was curious but, for the most part, harmless.

  “Oh sure. Just my annual physical. You?”

  “I’m here with Vastine. I expect the fluid’s built up around his heart again. The doctor will probably have to drain it. I hope they don’t have to put him in the hospital. It’s so hard on him when he goes.” She looked down at her watch. “Which doctor do you see?”

  Louise found the conversation annoying and considered the possibility that she should call home and check on Beatrice and Roxie, even though she had been gone only fifteen minutes. “Um, Dr. Phillips. She’s new, I guess.”

  “Yes, I believe she is. Do you like her?”

  “She’s fine. What time do you have, Peggy?” Louise was fidgety.

  “Nine fifty. Is your appointment at ten?”

  “Yeah. I hope they’re on time.” She picked up a magazine.

  “Oh, I think so at this hour in the morning. It’s those afternoon appointments that are so far behind. People calling in sick, you know, needing to come in today. Forget about the fact that others have been waiting for hours. And those regular visits that they thought would only take fifteen minutes suddenly taking an hour. And then there’s the emergencies!” She paused. “Louise, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little flushed.”


  Louise sighed. “I’m fine.” She stopped, then continued. “It’s just Beatrice is watching Roxie for me, and it’s their first time alone together.” She put down the magazine.

  Peggy patted her on the arm. “Oh, they’ll be fine. Beatrice is a good nurse. She stayed with Vastine once when I got the shingles and he was in the hospital. You don’t need to worry; besides, she knows where you are, right? If something goes wrong, she’ll call.”

  Louise began to think about what could go wrong. A fire or a break-in. There were possibilities she hadn’t thought of.

  “Oh look, there’s Lilly Andrews.” Peggy waved in the direction of a woman at the reception desk. “Hi, Lilly.”

  Peggy whispered, “She’s got cancer, you know. It’s so sad.”

  Louise looked at the woman who was waving back to them. She had a pink-and-white turban on her head.

  “By the way,” Peggy said, “I have my cookbook recipe in my purse. I was planning to mail it to Margaret, but since you’re here and on that committee, I’ll just give it to you.”

  “Maybe you should just mail it to Margaret. I’m a little scattered and might misplace it.” Louise could feel her blood pressure rising. How long can this doctor’s appointment take? she wondered.

  “Nonsense. Just stick it in your purse. Besides, it will save me a stamp.” She pulled the envelope from her purse.

  “Look, I’d rather give you money for the stamp than be responsible for keeping up with the thing. Send it to Margaret, please.” Louise got up from her seat and went to ask the receptionist how long it would be before she saw the doctor. She brushed past the woman with cancer. When she got back, Peggy looked upset and didn’t speak. Louise knew she had hurt her feelings.

  “Peggy, I’m sorry. Give me the recipe; I’ll give it to Margaret.” Louise stuck her hand out.

  “No, it’s obviously an inconvenience for you, so I’ll mail it this afternoon like I planned.” She pushed Louise’s hand away. “Besides, there’s Vastine, so I’ll be going now.” She got up and walked towards the desk to check out. “Vastine,” she called out. “I’m over here.” Her husband looked over towards her voice.