The Black Rose

by Tananarive Due

  You were wrong. You were so wrong, she thought as she wove in nearblindness through the carefree Saturday-night streets. A sob pitched so loudly from her throat that it sounded exactly like one of Dora Larrie’s begging screams.

  Chicago and the National Negro Business League meeting seemed almost imaginary now, but Sarah suddenly remembered how the white woman, with the presumptuousness of wealth and racial privilege, had asked her whether it was more difficult to be a woman or a Negro. Like a fool, Sarah had been nearly rude to her, telling her the worst kind of flippant, awful lie to try to impress Booker T. Washington and all those fine colored folks. But Sarah hadn’t known any better then. She just hadn’t known. That night, driving away from her husband and his mistress with a fresh and bleeding wound in her soul, Sarah Breedlove Walker realized that being a woman was the hardest thing of all.

  Chapter Thirty

  OCTOBER 1912

  (TWO MONTHS LATER)

  “Mama?” Lelia called softly through Sarah’s door. “It’s official! Can we come in?”

  Sarah’s room was nearly dark, as she’d kept it purposely in the weeks since she’d been at home. Her heavy curtains were always drawn, blotting out any light that tried to reach inside. Sarah had never been in such a strange state; she felt as if she were nursing a long fever, even though Dr. Ward assured her that her temperature was normal and she didn’t seem to be ill except for her blood pressure, which remained high. Often Sarah woke from naps in her grand bedroom and blinked several times as she glanced around the room and its regal furnishings, forgetting where she was. Then her eyes would find her father’s photograph staring at her from its frame on her nightstand, and she would remember: Yes, I live here. This is all mine.

  “Come in,” Sarah said, her voice sounding thin. When the door opened, Lelia walked in with her arm resting on the child’s shoulder. Mae was thirteen, and such a lovely child; she had a shy manner, a very pleasing brown face, and jet-black hair that grew so long she could actually sit on it. She’d been a Walker Company model for nearly a year, supplementing her impoverished mother’s meager income. Mae and her siblings practically lived on the streets.

  But that had all changed for Mae now.

  “Here she is, Mama, your new grandbaby!” Lelia said, clapping her hands together.

  “All the paperwork’s done?” Sarah said.

  “Yep! It’s all legal in the courts. This is Mae Bryant Robinson, my own little girl. And I made a change for me, too, Mama—I’m A’Lelia Walker Robinson now, named for my mama.”

  Sarah sat up in bed, where she’d been reclining in her elegant robe. Again, she felt distant from herself, as though her daughter’s words were part of a misty dream. So Lelia had a child now, and Sarah had a granddaughter. Part of her must be overjoyed, she knew, but instead she still felt hollowed out. Another piece of paperwork had become final this month, too—her divorce from C.J. had been finalized as of October 5, only a few days before. Mr. Ransom, himself a newlywed, had helped her file for divorce in September. The court had finally made it real.

  C.J. had been gone in spirit for months, and he’d been gone in the flesh ever since that last day she’d seen him at that hotel. But now he was gone by law. And she was still carrying his name, which sometimes felt like a wound, other times like a trophy. But Sarah’s moods didn’t matter; Madam C.J. Walker was the name people knew her company by, and it was a little too late to change it now, since the company had nearly 1,600 agents, and made weekly revenues close to one thousand dollars. The name had its own life, even on the days when Sarah went to bed with cramps simply after anyone uttered the word C.J. within her hearing, when her head whipped around, and she still expected to see him walk into the room.

  “Come here, pumpkin,” Sarah said to Mae, extending her arms. The petite child walked slowly toward her with a shy smile across her face, hardly looking Sarah in the eye. When she was close enough, Sarah leaned down to give her a warm hug. “Welcome to the family, child.”

  “Yes, Madam Walker,” she said, nearly whispering.

  “Don’t you call me Madam now. You can call me Grandmother.”

  Mae was silent. Sarah glanced up at Lelia’s beaming face, then back at Mae’s. The sadness in this child’s eyes was unmistakable. What was wrong? Was she sad her mother had agreed to give her up? Or had she carried this sadness her entire hard life? Gazing into Mae’s eyes, Sarah remembered well how it felt to be tossed to and fro as a child, helpless. But Mae would be better off as part of the Walker family, Sarah knew. God willing, Lelia would begin setting a better example and try to be a good mother.

  “Why don’t you run down to the kitchen, Mae?” Sarah said. “There’s fresh biscuits in the kitchen, and I’m sure there’s one with jam waiting for you.”

  “Yes’m!”

  Once Mae had marched out of the room, Lelia twirled around, giggling. “Mama, isn’t it great? I’m a mother! And that hair of hers is so pretty, folks go wild for her. Wish mine grew that long! I can’t wait to take her for demonstrations down in—”

  “Did you really adopt that child, Lelia? Or did you adopt her head of hair?”

  Lelia’s face fell. “Well, that question’s an insult, Mama. But I guess if you’re feeling well enough to insult me, you must be back to your old self. I should think you’d be more grateful—”

  “Oh, Lelia, please hush, child,” Sarah said, weary. She patted the bed, and Lelia climbed up to sit next to her. Sarah leaned against her daughter. “Don’t go having a fit. No, I’m not back to my old self. I can’t hardly get out of bed one day to the next. And I am grateful, baby—I don’t know where I’d be without you. I’d have cried myself to the grave, I expect.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have, Mama,” Lelia said, kissing her cheek. “I know you better.”

  For a moment Sarah just enjoyed the feeling of resting her head on her daughter’s firm shoulder. Lelia had been such a big help these past two months! Sarah had been so humiliated by the disaster with C.J. that she’d nearly felt ashamed to show her face in her new city. Just as she’d begun to make inroads into the colored social circles, her personal life had overshadowed her; now, she heard, many of the monied families had dismissed her as trash. And could she blame them? It was all so torrid! C.J. had cashed some checks made out to the Walker Company and pocketed more than a thousand dollars of company funds he’d planned to use to start his own company with Dora Larrie. Mrs. Larrie, apparently, had plans to divorce her husband so she could marry C.J. Vaguely, Sarah wondered if C.J. still had his little honey up in Kansas City, too.

  Well, that was Dora Larrie’s problem now, not hers. Sarah shook her head, sighing.

  “I thought having a granddaughter would cheer you up,” Lelia said, stroking Sarah’s head.

  “Oh, it does, Lelia. I just worry, that’s all,” Sarah said. “It’s a big responsibility, raising a child. And that one’s so reserved, like she was born grown!”

  “She’ll get warmer toward us, Mama. It’s a big change for her.”

  “Don’t I know it!” Sarah said. She’d married Moses when she was just a little older than Mae, she remembered. “You take care to give that girl lots of love, and don’t just put her to work. It’s a blessing to raise a child, Lelia, but it’s not a substitute for a man.”

  “Mama, I’m surprised at you! After the horror you’ve just been through …”

  “Yes, that’s right. Just because … I feel like I do about C.J. doesn’t mean I expect you to give up on marrying, too. I made mistakes, Lelia. I had a hand in this thing, just like you had a hand in what happened with John Robinson. So it’s not sour just on the men’s side. That girl Mae should have a papa, too. I’d give anything to have had mine for even a year or two longer. And God knows I think you’d be better for it if you’d had Moses… .”

  Cheerfully, Lelia pinched her mother’s cheek. “But I didn’t, Mama, and I turned out fine! So let’s stop all this talk about marriage. I don’t think matrimony agrees with either one
of us, and we’d better just accept that fact. Any men we meet now would just be sniffing after our money anyway. You know that, don’t you?”

  Sniffing after her money! Sarah paused, momentarily struck by the truth of her daughter’s words. She’d never thought of it before now, and it was so hard to believe! She, Sarah Breedlove, had enough money to draw undesirable men who preyed on women with fortunes. After C.J., she’d begun to fear that perhaps a woman could have too much money!

  “We’re rich, Lelia,” Sarah said softly, as if realizing it for the first time.

  “Awfully, terribly rich!” Lelia said, squeezing her mother’s hand hard. “And now we have someone to pass it to when we’re gone, Mama. The Walkers have an heiress. Don’t you see?”

  Sarah raised her head, searching her daughter’s eyes. “Is that why you did it, Lelia? Is that why you adopted that child?”

  Lelia smiled sadly. “She was living on the streets, and I can give her anything she wants. I want her to love me,” Lelia said, her eyes earnest. “Is that really so selfish?”

  Looking into Lelia’s eyes, Sarah couldn’t bring herself to say a word against it.

  Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked through the arched doorway of Bethel AME Church in Indianapolis, the church she’d adopted after her move to the city. It had been a cruel trick of God’s, she thought, to give her everything she’d dreamed of in exchange for yet another husband. Besides, she couldn’t bear the thought of the staring eyes of people who would have heard the stories about her. That was her own fault, wasn’t it? She’d made herself so famous here now that her very bedroom was fodder for the gossip of strangers.

  Take the good with the bad, C.J. had said. Words from the best friend she’d ever known.

  You stupid fool, C.J., Sarah thought, gazing at the large brick church’s entrance with a pounding heart. Why’d you have to try so hard to make me hate you? Is that the only way you knew I’d let you go?

  “Come on, Mama,” Lelia urged softly, hooking her arm inside Sarah’s. Her entire family was assembled outside of the church to go with her today: Mae, Anjetta, and even Lou. It was time she got out of the house, they’d all decided. It was time for her to go on with her life. Already, as worshipers walked past them to go inside, Sarah saw the curious eyes, a few discreet whispers. But mostly she saw smiles. And something else, she realized … Respect.

  A young man tipped his hat, stepping aside so she could walk in before him. “Morning, Madam Walker,” he said. As Sarah walked into the sanctuary with her family, heads swiveled around to follow them. Sarah paused as she stood in the center of the aisle, humbled by the sight of the massive pipe organ directly in her path, behind the pulpit; the brass pipes reached the ceiling, framed between two carved pillars and the blue-and-rose-tinted stained-glass windows.

  “You ’member you saw that lady, hear?” Sarah heard a mother whisper to a young child. “That’s Madam C.J. Walker. She’s the richest colored lady in the world. You can get anything you want in life, if you just pray and work hard, just like her.”

  The richest colored lady in the world. Mr. Ransom always told her she was well on her way to earning that place. She could be someday, couldn’t she? She’d found herself a miracle, and there was no telling where it would end. She could be great just like Booker T. Washington, a beacon for her race. All she had to do was try!

  “Come on, Mama. You can do it,” Lelia urged quietly, believing she’d lost her nerve. In truth, Sarah had just regained it like never before.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  February 4, 1913

  Mother,

  I am so excited to hear you have changed your mind about helping me move to New York. I promise you’ll never have reason to regret it. New York is the place to be, Mother. There are so many Negroes coming to Harlem now, and I am convinced we can build a Walker parlor there that would put us on par with anyone, white or colored. I know you are worried about the Pittsburgh office, but I will find a suitable forelady to help Sadie before I move. I’ve grown too bored and wretched in this place, which reminds me of John. In New York I am a new person. Once you spend more time there, you’ll want to move, too. You’ll see!

  Love,

  Lelia

  P.S. Mae and Sadie both send you their love. I have heard from Mr. Ransom’s wife, Nettie. They seem the perfect couple to me. How nice to have married a college sweetheart! I’m happy there is still some romance left in this age.

  * * *

  May 27, 1913

  Mrs. Lelia W. Robinson

  592 Lenox Avenue, Apt. 12

  New York City

  My Dear Mrs. Robinson:

  I hope it will not be long before I am able to enjoy a long-overdue visit to your new home. Madam has completed her real estate purchases in Gary, and is now the proud owner of a 13-passenger Cole Motor Car. The car is quite a sight, sure to turn heads, so I know you will admire it. Given these purchases, however, I wish you would help me encourage Madam to bank as much money as possible so it can draw interest and protect you against unforeseen hard times. Madam could soon be the wealthiest colored person in America, and I would like to help her reach that goal. Can I depend on your help?

  Respectfully,

  F.B. Ransom

  * * *

  September 1, 1913

  Dearest Lelia,

  Well, you are the only one who thinks it’s a good idea for me to go overseas now to make a name, but you always give me a boost when everyone else says “Don’t.” I’m just sorry your hands are so full building the house in New York. This trip is shaping up so nicely in a short time! I am taking my touring car, and we would have had so many nice hours together. I’ll be leaving next month, visiting Jamaica, Costa Rica, Haiti, and the Panama Canal Zone. Lottie speaks French and a little Spanish, so she will get plenty of practice. Yes, I’ll take care not to get sick near the canal. I have heard those stories, too.

  Now, Lela, I’ve already told you I don’t want Mae to miss so much school. I agree that travel is a good education, and Mae is a wonderful model when she travels with me, but I think she is too young for this overseas trip. As for you wanting more time to yourself—now you know how taxing motherhood can be!

  Love,

  Mother

  P.S. No, my penmanship has not improved this much. I dictated this note to Lottie. She says hello!

  Lelia College

  Walker’s Hair Parlor

  New York City

  Brooklyn office

  108 West 136th Street

  300 Bridge Street

  December 7, 1913

  My Dear Mr. Ransom:

  Am writing you to do a friendly turn for me, am dodging behind you to keep the bullets from hitting me. I have never told Mother the final outcome of this house. I thought somehow or other I could come out of it without bothering her again. I am enclosing the estimates.

  Now I know, Mr. Ransom, Mother has been wonderful to me. She has been so good until I know it seems an imposition, and so it is, for me to say money to her again. That is why I am getting behind you. If Mother was only here on the job. She could see and know; that is why I want her to come on over to New York. You can trust me when I say the home is wonderful!

  Whatever you do, don’t let her get sore at me and bawl me out, for I am certainly one nervous child. Am expecting house to be complete enough for us to move into it in the next two weeks so I will have to have the money right away.

  Give my love to Nettie and kiss babies for me. I realize I have certainly imposed some task on you but you’ll have to be to me what the Carpathia was to the Titanic.

  Anxiously awaiting your answer.

  Sincerely,

  Lelia W.R.

  * * *

  INDIANAPOLIS RECORDER

  Weekly Newspaper Devoted to the Best Interests of the Negroes of Indiana

  SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 1914

  C.J. WALKER SAYS: “As You Reap So Shall You Sow”

  FORMER HUSBAND OF WELL-KNOW
N HAIR

  MANUFACTURER REGRETS PAST LIFE

  To the Freeman:

  Dear Sirs: Will you give me space in your valuable paper to warn men against the use of strong drink and women?

  I had the best, purest, and noblest woman Christ ever died for, but I let drink and this designing evil woman come between us and now I am a wreck on life’s great sea, with no hope of anchoring. She made me believe I was being treated badly by Mme. Walker because she did not let me handle all the money, not withstanding the fact I had no responsibility, not even my clothes to buy and with $10.00 per week to spend as I pleased.

  I was foolish enough to let her persuade me to leave the woman I still love better than life.

  By making me believe, with my knowledge of making the goods, and her ability to do the work, and talk, we could make thousands of dollars, and I would be master of the situation. She closed her work at Tuskegee and came to me. We did not do so well under the name of the “Walker-Larrie Co.,” so she planned to get a divorce so we might marry, which she did, and on March 4th, we were married by Rev. Jackson. We were not married long before I discovered she did not love me, but that she only wanted the title Mme. and the formula. The latter, I refused absolutely to give.

  My life has been a hell since she went so far as to have me put in jail, said I was interfering with her business, when in truth, the business was my own, a thing Mme. Walker would never have done. She also tied up what little mail there was coming in, so I could not get a cent. All I got was ten cents on Sunday for paper and shoe shine. I left her but she threatened to have me arrested for wife abandonment, so I had to stay and try to get enough money to get out of Louisville, which I found impossible to do as everyone was so prejudiced against us, so I had to appeal to my sister for help. Had it not been for her, and her dear husband, I would have been crazy by this time.