One Night in Georgia

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “Yes, that’s right. We think they’re doing those psychedelic drugs too.”

  “They wear flowers, beads, and bells. Imagine that?”

  The black woman nodded. “It’s about ten of them.”

  “I just hope they’re not having sex orgies in there. The Petersons just got brand-new living room furniture. I don’t know why they would rent their home to those people.”

  The two women looked at me peculiarly, or maybe it was just my imagination.

  “I’m sure they smoke those funny cigarettes too.” The white woman leaned closer and whispered, “You know the ones that get you dizzy and drive you stark raving mad.”

  “You mean marijuana,” I offered. Both women turned and scowled at me as if I had just divulged state secrets.

  “You know about those cigarettes?” the black woman asked, looking at me suspiciously.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I saw it on the news. It’s scary.” They nodded in unison.

  “So, Veronica, are your parents coming down as well?”

  “No, not this time. It’s just my girlfriends and me. Mom and Dad are still vacationing in the Vineyard for the summer.”

  “And these are your friends.”

  “Yes. Miss Sadie, Miss Betsy, I want you to meet my two best friends from school. This is Zelda Livingston and Daphne Brooks.”

  We smiled and nodded politely.

  “From Spelman?” Miss Sadie asked. “My alma mater?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Veronica said and then turned to Daphne and me. “Miss Sadie, her mother, and her grandmother all went to Spelman.”

  We talked about the weather, traffic, and the drive down. Then we talked about Spelman and college life and how things had changed over the years. Sadie, now retired, had been a nurse, like Veronica’s aunt. Her husband had been an engineer. Betsy was a writer and owned the local newspaper with her husband. Veronica and I asked questions and did most of the talking while Daphne remained quiet. She was never very talkative around people she didn’t know.

  “Well, we can stand out here talking all day, but I’ve got a cake in the oven and guests coming over this evening,” Sadie said, adjusting her apron ties.

  “And those hedges are not going to trim themselves, although I wish they would.”

  We laughed at the joke as the two neighbors began walking back down the driveway toward their homes. “Enjoy the beach,” Betsy said. “I hear the water is nice and warm today. But be careful. There’s a near high tide with a strong current and a serious undertow. Rips will pull you over by the sewage pipe.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Veronica assured them.

  “You’re all welcome to stop by this evening after dinner for cake and coffee.”

  “Thank you,” Veronica said, waving. “We’ll try. Have a good day.”

  I looked at Veronica. “Sewage pipe in the water where people swim? There’s no way I’m getting in the water with a sewage pipe spewing garbage and only God knows what else all over the place.”

  Veronica shook her head and waved me off. “Don’t worry about it. The pipe is all corroded and slimy, and it’s been shut off and plugged up for decades. It’s right next to an old dilapidated pier that collapsed in a storm years and years ago. Nobody ever goes near it. But people around here still fret. It’s like the boogeyman. The only people who go near it are the fools who don’t live around here and don’t know any better.”

  “Aren’t there warning signs posted?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course, as long as people pay attention and read them. But like I said, nobody ever goes near the pipe. As big and ugly as it looks, who would want to?” she said, then walked back to the car.

  “What are rips?” Daphne asked.

  “Rip currents—basically ocean waves with a shitty attitude. Miss Betsy is obsessed with listening to the weather and tide forecasts. She reads the tide predictions like the Bible, and she panics whenever they mention the words ‘high tide’ or ‘undercurrent.’ Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Come on, it’s time for us to start having some fun.”

  5

  WE HURRIEDLY GRABBED OUR THINGS FROM THE CAR, then followed Veronica up the front steps and into the house. She dropped her suitcases in the foyer. “Okay,” Veronica began, “I’ll give you the quick five-cent tour, and then we can hit the beach.”

  Daphne and I shrugged agreeably and followed her from room to room. She called it her family’s summer bungalow, but since it had four bedrooms and was just two blocks from the beach, I called it heaven.

  The downstairs rooms, even with the drapes mostly drawn, were open and airy with dark wooden floors covered by a thin layer of sand, which made our footsteps crunch every time we took a step. The parlor in the front of the house had three large floor-to-ceiling windows allowing thin slits of bright sunbeams to fall across the decorative area rug beneath the tufted turquoise Selig sofa, matching slipper chairs, and coffee table. Most of what I could see of the other furniture was simple and modest, and not at all flashy and fancy like I thought it would be.

  The kitchen was small with an old-fashioned stove, a stone fireplace, and a hot water heater beside a small refrigerator. There were no enclosed cabinets, just open shelves lined with dishes, cups, and canned goods. Beyond the kitchen was a screened-in porch, with a round wood table in the center of the room surrounded by six chairs. The porch overlooked a small backyard, a tiny shed, and a well-tended garden.

  Upstairs were two spacious bedrooms and two smaller ones. All four were hot and stuffy, with the same thin layer of sand covering the floors.

  We put our luggage in one of the two larger bedrooms. I thought it was Veronica’s parents’ bedroom because there were several pictures of her on the dresser. Since there were two full-size beds, we decided we’d all stay in one room, with Daphne and me sharing a bed.

  “Hey, want to see something super cool?” Veronica asked. We had no choice but to agree since she dashed out of the room and hurried down the hall and up a narrow staircase at the back of the house. It led to the attic, packed with old furniture and storage boxes and trunks.

  “This is my favorite part in the whole house,” she said excitedly as she grabbed one of the boxes stacked against the back wall.

  Daphne and I helped her move the last two boxes. My mouth dropped wide open. I could not believe my eyes, looking at the view. “That’s the ocean.”

  She chuckled softly. “Yep, it sure is,” she said admiringly. “My own private view of the Atlantic Ocean. Isn’t it wild? My grandmother showed me this view years ago. She told me that nobody knew about it and I had to keep it a secret.”

  “That’s so beautiful. It goes on forever,” Daphne said.

  “One of these days I’m going to make this my bedroom,” Veronica announced. “I used to play up here for hours when I was younger.” She looked around wistfully.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I had to play by myself back then. None of the kids in the neighborhood were allowed to play with me because I was black. But when my cousin Anthony came to visit, we would play cards and board games up here all the time.”

  “Sounds like you had fun.”

  She smiled. “I did. We did. He was two years older than me. He was like my big brother, always joking around and making me laugh. And he always watched out for me no matter what.” She paused and started putting the boxes back against the wall. “Except now I guess he’s not.”

  “What do you mean, he’s not?” I asked while helping her put the boxes back in place.

  She stopped, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “Anthony’s dead. My uncle Harold got word right before I came home from school last semester. He was killed in Vietnam. He just got there and he was killed.”

  I stopped stacking the boxes and looked at her. “Veronica, I’m so sorry,” I said softy.

  “Me too. I’m sorry,” Daphne said quietly.

  “He wanted to become a doctor. He was a junior at Morehouse Col
lege, then he just up and enlisted in the army. He had a deferment, but he enlisted anyway.” She shook her head. “How crazy is that? Why would anyone do that?” she asked, looking completely confused. “Everybody else at Morehouse is deferred and he decided to enlist. I asked him why, and he said because they needed him. Can you believe it? He actually enlisted because he wanted to go save lives. But then he lost his own. They killed him.”

  “How?” Daphne asked. “I mean how did it happen?”

  “They said it was friendly fire. That’s when someone from your own side kills you.”

  “That doesn’t sound friendly to me,” Daphne said.

  “To me either,” I added.

  Veronica looked at us with a confused and bewildered expression on her face. Then she closed her eyes. “Tân An, the Mekong Delta region of Vietnam.”

  “What’s that?” I asked softly.

  She opened her eyes and nodded. “That’s where he was killed. I remember the exact name of the place. I don’t ever want to forget that name, Tân An, the Mekong Delta region,” she repeated. “How can he be killed in a place and I don’t even know where to find it on a map?” she said.

  “I’m sorry about Anthony,” I said, then wrapped my arms around her tightly. A few seconds later, Daphne wrapped her arms around us both.

  After a while Veronica stepped away and continued piling the boxes in front of the window. “He always cheated. When we played Scrabble. He came up with crazy words and always swore to me they were real. And when we played Monopoly, he mixed his money in with the bank money.” She chuckled and shook her head.

  “It sounds like he was a really nice guy.”

  She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and quickly changed the subject. “Good Lord, it’s so damn hot and stuffy up here. I can barely breathe. Come on. Let’s go find some bathing suits and get to the beach.”

  Before we could get changed, there was a loud, urgent knock that startled us. We went downstairs and headed toward the front door. Veronica moved ahead and looked out the window, peeking through the curtains to see who it was. She turned back to us and shrugged her shoulders. We lined up behind her as she reached for the doorknob. On the other side of the screen door was a handsome guy standing there smiling.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Daniel Johnson. I believe you’re expecting me.”

  Veronica smiled. “No, I don’t think so. Are you lost?”

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, reviewed it, and then looked at the address of the house. “I was sent by my father’s friend Darnell Wilson. Zelda’s father.”

  With my emotions leading the way, I pushed past Veronica. “Darnell Wilson is not my father. He’s just the man who married my mother. I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing here, but we don’t need any help from you or Darnell.”

  A smile brightened Daniel’s face, and as he glanced down at me, I saw a row of gorgeous white teeth. “Miss Zelda, I’m an army man, and I always complete my assignment,” he replied as he leaned down and picked up his suitcase. I could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt.

  “Well, that settles that,” Veronica said as she stepped back, indicating that it was okay for Daniel to enter. At that moment, I was certain Veronica had lost her cotton-picking mind. How could she let a complete stranger, especially someone Darnell had sent, come into the house? She looped her arm around Daniel’s. “Exactly what is your assignment?”

  “Just to serve and protect, ma’am. I understand that you are on your way to Georgia and need an escort.”

  “Well, first we’re headed to the beach. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Veronica, are you insane? We don’t know him. If he knows Darnell, he’s probably a con man and a liar,” I said.

  He looked at me and smiled. “I’m neither. I’m merely doing a favor. Your stepfather and my father served together in the army.”

  “Brothers in arms,” Daphne said.

  “Yes.”

  “See, Zelda. He’s okay. Come on, let’s go to the beach.”

  “I’d like that.” He turned and winked at me.

  What was that about? I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, but there had to be something if he was in any way connected to Darnell. While Veronica eagerly showed him to one of the rooms, I decided I needed to keep an eye on him.

  ON OUR WAY TO THE BEACH WE PICKED UP SANDWICHES and sodas at a little deli on Beach Avenue. As soon as we reached the sand we started selecting our spot, as far from other people as we could get. We spread out the large floral blanket and had lunch. Daniel reluctantly came along, after mumbling something like, “Every time black folks go near water there’s trouble.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might have been a joke that had roots in the Middle Passage. When he said it, it seemed he had leaned toward me, as if I understood what he was talking about.

  At the beach, Daniel wore an unbuttoned oxford shirt and swimming trunks, which gave us an idea of what he was working with. Since none of us girls wanted to get our hair wet, we weren’t actually planning to go swimming. Veronica and I splashed and played at the water’s edge, while Daphne, wearing a terry-cloth cover-up, stayed on the blanket and buried her feet in the sand. The crystal-blue sky, the water, and the white sand made the shoreline seem to go on forever. Everything was perfect, except for the strange man in our presence. I still didn’t trust Daniel even though he’d been quiet most of the time. We lay back, relaxed, and listened to the radio we had brought with us.

  Surprisingly, the beach wasn’t as crowded as I expected. Men were tanning themselves and sitting and drinking from cups, liquor or perhaps beer. Women, with big sunglasses and floral bathing caps, smoked cigarettes and sipped from Coca-Cola bottles with straws.

  The crowd was mixed, but there was no real interaction between the races. A group of girls tossed a giant beach ball around, a couple of guys flung a Frisbee and several oddly shaped and ill-fated sandcastles were under construction too close to the water’s edge. Everybody was in their own world, playing and enjoying the beach.

  The only interaction was farther away, across the dunes. A group of young children, both black and white, were playing and tossing bread crumbs at seagulls squawking and swooping down for a late-afternoon meal. “I cannot believe I’m lying on the beach in Cape May watching kids feeding a flock of seagulls.”

  “Colony,” Daphne said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “They’re called a colony of seagulls, not a flock.”

  I chuckled to myself. “Daphne Brooks, only you would know that seagulls cluster in a colony. I swear, you must stay up at night and memorize the whole encyclopedia.”

  “I have a very good memory. When I read something, I remember it.”

  I looked around again, then squinted. “Is that a lighthouse down there?”

  Veronica, who reclined on the blanket with her eyes closed and her shades on, nodded. “Yeah, that’s the Cape May Lighthouse on Cape May Point. One time Anthony ran all the way up the steps and . . .”

  Just then a white guy zoomed by us and fell in the sand only a few feet away. Soaking wet and now completely covered with sand, he laughed and held up the Frisbee in joyful celebration. Daphne nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes were as large as saucers. He looked at us and grinned. “Sorry ’bout that, folks,” he said, then stood, flicked his wrist, and sent the Frisbee sailing toward his friend. A second later he went charging after it.

  Then another man walked by. He stared at us real hard, as if we didn’t belong there, and muttered something disparaging as he moved on. We didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then Daphne shook her head. “They’re always gonna hate us.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to him,” I said.

  Veronica, having opened her eyes and sat up attentively, sucked her teeth. “People like that are just assholes who teach their kids to be assholes.”

  Daphne turned with tears in her eyes. “He looked just like my uncle, the same dir
ty blond hair and the same mean, evil face. I wish he was dead.”

  “It’ll get better,” Veronica assured her. “I promise.”

  “Or maybe it won’t. Maybe we should go back home and forget about driving to school,” I said.

  “No,” Veronica said emphatically. “We’re not going to be chased away by some jackass stuck in the past. This is 1968, for God’s sake. We have every right to be on this beach.”

  “It’s not just about you, Veronica,” I began. “This affects all of us. What about Daphne? Just look at her.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “She’s a mess,” I told her. “We should just go back.”

  “No,” Veronica said again.

  “Enough. Stop it. We’re not going back. Let’s just keep going,” Daphne said. “I’ll be okay. I promise. I prayed about it and I’ll be fine.”

  “You prayed about it?” I rolled my eyes. “Please, leave God out of this. I swear I don’t see how you can still believe in a God with all the monstrous things that go on in this world.”

  “God loves us, but sometimes we turn away from him, and that’s when evil comes in.”

  “After everything you’ve gone through, how can you still believe that?”

  She looked at me and smiled. “Look at all this. Isn’t it amazing? It’s beautiful.”

  I shook my head, confounded. “Yeah, it’s beautiful, but look at all the ugliness, too, hatred, racism, war, killings.”

  “That’s not God-made. That’s man-made without God.”

  “You mean the God who was created by man to control us? Daphne, you are way too smart to fall for this.”

  “Zelda, you have it wrong. Man did not create God; God created man in his likeness.”

  “How can you believe that?”

  “It’s called faith.”

  “I can’t have faith in a God who lets hate rule. How can God be God if he allows all this to go on without helping?”

  “God helps us. We just don’t always see it.”

  “My grandparents in Louisiana were devout Catholics. They went to church, read the Bible, and prayed. When I was five years old and visiting them, one night some men in white robes with blazing torches came banging on their front door. I looked out the window and saw them with their torches. They wanted my grandfather to come outside. All my grandmother did was fall on her knees and start praying to a God who didn’t listen to her. She prayed for strength. What was that going to do?”