Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White

by Claudia Mair Burney

  “We already prayed over the food,” she said. “And we pray for about an hour so it’s way blessed.”

  Billie laughs. “Yeah. We gotta bless, and say the Lord’s Prayer, and about twelve Lord Have Mercies. It’s blessed all right.”

  The food is good. Pet starts helping her mom. I think about Nicky between bites of eggs. How I felt touching his face. How I saw him hours ago, but I miss him. How I want to hear his smart-mouthed remarks and hear him laugh and see everything—that whole world—inside of his eyes.

  “I love him,” I say.

  I feel so happy saying it. And so sad.

  “I know, sweetie,” Billie says.

  Pet says, “I so could tell. Are you gonna marry him?”

  Billie looks horrified. “Perpetua Jordan!”

  “What?” she asks. She is truly her mother’s child. “I just want to know if she’s going to marry Nicky. He’s adorable, and he’s totally into her.”

  “That’s crazy,” I say.

  “Marrying him, or that he’s into you?” she asks.

  “Both,” I answer.

  WE DO SOME cleaning around the house, and I dream of colors for the walls. I think of my family’s timeshare in the Bahamas and all those island-inspired colors. Ocean and sand. Shells. The sun rising and setting. Nothing Day-Glo. All colors from nature. From the beach. And maybe in the bathrooms I can use a bit of a nature theme too.

  Lord, where is the money going to come from for that? And who cares?

  Billie would care. And probably Pet. Those kids. Would the stranger feel less welcome if he came into a house of beauty? Not ostentatious beauty. Simple beauty. Something a few coats of paint could bring? Nicky would like it. I can make a wall to match the blue of his eyes.

  What am I thinking? I’m acting like I’m a part of the Beloved Community. Maybe I wish I was. I wish I was a part of something.

  Or is it someone?

  I wish I could see him today.

  I’m afraid to see him. I just told two people that I love Nicky Parker. I just told myself, and unfortunately, I meant it.

  Now I want to tell him.

  I have to distract myself before I start calling a certain phone number written on the back of a poem.

  Zora Parker. That sounds so much better than Zora Zekora.

  I’m losing my mind.

  “Pet, is there a corner store around here?”

  “Sure. Wanna walk over there?”

  “Yeah. Billie, can I put cornrows in Monica and Clare’s hair?”

  Billie looks up from sweeping the kitchen floor. “Really?” I can tell she’s excited about it. “Can you do Frances’s hair too?”

  “Sure.”

  “And can you put some beads in my dreads?”

  “I think I can manage to get some on the small ones. I can give you an up-do too.”

  She grins. “John had better get ready!”

  “Just don’t get pregnant again, Mom,” Pet says.

  We’re in a black neighborhood. I know I can find the right kind of comb in the ’hood. I’m going to get some hair oil and some rubber bands and make an offering out of doing all kinds of pretty little golden-girl heads around here. I don’t have any paint, but I can cornrow some hair like any sistah from around the way. I can give God that before I head back to that lonely apartment and wait for the gauntlet to come down.

  FIVE CORNROWED HEADS and one up-do later, a finer version of Billie reluctantly takes me home. She’s still worried that Miles is going to get his “paws” on me.

  “Don’t forget,” she says. “Just because you had a bad moment doesn’t mean you have to make any lifetime commitments to him.”

  “I feel so tainted.”

  “It’s a feeling. Yesterday was a colossally bad day, sweetie. What you felt is gonna pass.”

  “And what about all these feelings I have about Nicky? What about those, Billie?”

  “Those aren’t going anywhere anytime too soon.”

  “The feelings I want to have for Miles, I have for Nicky.”

  “Just allow yourself to feel what you feel.”

  “What if he’s just playing games with me?”

  “Which one of them?”

  “Nicky?”

  “Nicky is totally serious. It’s Miles that’s playing games. And his games are far more dangerous.”

  “Miles has been seriously interested in me for a long time. I knew he would ask me to marry him. I mean, I expected something more romantic, but I knew it was in the plan.”

  “I’m sure he has plans.”

  “Billie, that’s not fair. Miles is just ambitious. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Maybe it’s not. Maybe it is. But Zora, I haven’t heard you say a thing about being in love with him, or even wanting him, but I did hear you say you loved Nicky. I did see you with him, and all I saw was grace and tenderness between you two. But when I saw you with Miles, he had an air mattress and a box of condoms.”

  “That was my fault.”

  “Somehow I doubt that, unless you asked that man to go get you those things, and I know you didn’t.”

  “Maybe my actions asked him for it.”

  “Oh, sweetie. Please don’t do this to yourself. This is why you don’t need to be alone.”

  “I can guarantee that if Nicky called Miles, Daddy is going to come around and see me today. And he’s probably going to be bearing gifts.”

  For a few moments Billie is quiet. “We’ve got a couple that’s moving on. What if we made room for you at our house? You can stay with us. You wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job right away. All your needs would be met.”

  “But don’t you guys share everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a pretty radical move. I don’t know if I’m ready to live in that kind of community.”

  “I understand that, Zora, but we are just crazy about you. And I don’t like the thought of you being on your own. Community has its challenges, but it has its joys. And it has its safety. You can leave when you want to. We’re not a cult, Zora. We’re a family of God. You can take some time to seek God and find out who He wants you to be. And who He wants you to be with, and we’ll help you so you avoid the kind of situation you had with Miles yesterday.”

  My heart actually feels a little torn. I’ve been asking Jesus what it means to be poor in spirit. And here I can give up everything and live in community and dedicate my life to service. I can free myself from being a slave to possessions and what someone else believes God made me to be. Now Billie is offering the opportunity to be a part of the Beloved Community. Even the name stirs up longing inside me.

  I slump in the seat of the VW bus. “I’ll have to think about it, Billie. Either way, I’ll still have to go to my apartment. I know my family is going to want to contact me.”

  “Don’t make any decisions when you’re feeling this way. Especially bad ones.”

  “Miles is all stirred up, Billie. It’s just like the Song of Solomon says. Don’t awaken love before its time.”

  “What you awakened in Miles wasn’t love, baby. Love doesn’t go to Wal-Mart to shop for what he got. The other ‘l’ word does.”

  “He wants to correct it. He said he’ll marry me.”

  “Zora, you’re going to make me have a stroke if you say that one more time. You can’t marry him because you let him take a few liberties. Don’t you see how confused you are? This is precisely why you need to let us love on you and protect you. And you’ll have to forgive me for saying this, but I don’t think your family has been protecting you. Not lately.”

  “I don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t know anything.”

  “Will you let me know if you need me, Zora? Please?”

  “I promise I will, Billie.”

  I meant it when I said it.

  NICKY

  I go to the bank early in the morning and get the last bit of cash I can spare. I need the rest to make it through until I get paid agai
n. As it is, I’ve missed two days of work. That’s going to bite into the budget. Plus, I’ve burned up the road and a whole lotta gas going back and forth between Detroit and Ann Arbor. I knew I couldn’t afford Zora. I could never do this. I have very little cash to work with as it is, and what I do have I try to be smart with, and keep something on hand for emergencies.

  I have no idea what’s going to happen to me. I saw myself as playing the good son, going on to seminary and eventually bringing my father’s ministry into the postmodern world.

  I guess that won’t happen.

  I would have never thought that when I walked out of church Sunday, it would be the beginning of me walking away from my family again. Because after that conversation last night, I don’t think I can go back.

  I hoped my dad would guide me, like a shepherd. The fact is, I hoped he would be a dad to me, and I guess in his own way, he was. He actually came to me. Gave me what he thought I needed to help me. What he didn’t realize is she’s what I need.

  And what am I supposed to do about her?

  I end up getting a hundred and fifty dollars. I try to strategize about what this will get me. Not much. I have no idea when I’ll see my folks again. Or if my gun-wielding grandpa is going to go Charleton Heston-NRA on me if I show up at their house. I wonder how fast I can shower and change so I can get over to Billie’s to see her. I just want to get her in my arms again, in the light of day, when I’m not feeling so fragile and looking so desperate.

  I HURRY AND get myself together. My cell phone rings again just as I’m getting back into my truck. God, I want it to be Zora, but it’s from my parents’ home. I don’t know if I should answer, but I can’t help myself.

  “Hello.”

  “Nicky?”

  It’s my mom, and she’s calling me Nicky.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Can we meet somewhere?”

  I can hear in her voice that this is killing her. This is as bad as the “abortion incident” years ago. “Mom, I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

  “Please.”

  “Dad won’t like it.”

  “I don’t care. I just want to take you to breakfast, unless you have company or something.”

  I know exactly what she’s asking.

  “Mom, I didn’t spend the night with her. I’m not going to get her pregnant. We’re not doing anything, I promise.”

  “Your dad said—”

  “I don’t care what he said. I’ve never touched her. You don’t have to give me any credit for that, but I wish somebody would at least give her some, because she’s one of the coolest people that I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like the whore of Babylon just because of stereotypes she has nothing to do with.”

  “She certainly didn’t represent herself very well.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you, Mom. Zora and I are just …”

  “Just what?”

  I don’t answer her.

  “Nicholas?”

  So much for calling me Nicky. “Yes, Mom?”

  “Will you have breakfast with me?”

  “Sure. Where do you want me to meet you?”

  “At Denny’s on Washtenaw.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  An hour later, I’m in Ann Arbor settled into a booth at Denny’s. We used to come here every Friday evening, me, my mom and my dad. I think about the lawsuit against Denny’s and all those allegations of racism. I never thought much about them before. I used to think black people were too sensitive. That they had to be imagining some of the racism they cried so frequently, but now I’m not so sure. Nothing is what it seems to be. Not even my own heart.

  My mother comes into the restaurant just when I expect her to. She is a prim and proper Parker through and through, fifteen minutes early, which she considers right on time.

  I stand up to greet her, and she looks so frail. When I gather her into a hug, it feels like I could break her.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, Nicholas.” She pauses. “Nicky.”

  “Mom, just call me whatever you feel comfortable with.” We settle into the red vinyl booth. A waitress comes over and introduces herself as Catrina. She’s a short, gorgeous, freckle-faced redhead, and she’s making eyes at me. I know I’m in love because I don’t give her a second glance. Okay, I do, but not a third.

  “I miss calling you Nicky,” my mother says.

  Catrina asks if she can take our order. My mom orders a Grand Slam for both of us.

  “I’m not hungry, Mom.”

  “Why not? You love their Grand Slam breakfast.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to support this racist institution.”

  “Nicholas, what in the world are you talking about?”

  “What about those lawsuits, Mom? All the allegations of racial discrimination.” Frankly, I’d rather say this than “I’m so lovesick I can’t eat.” But my mom knows me.

  “You’re sick over her, aren’t you?”

  I don’t answer her.

  “If you’re sick, this isn’t good.”

  Catrina looks disappointed that I’m obviously smitten with someone else. To keep her from knowing all my business, I order. “Okay, Catrina. I’ll have the Grand Slam breakfast too. With orange juice.”

  She nods, takes my mother’s drink order, black coffee, and off she goes.

  “Come on, Mom. I’m always sick when I’m upset.”

  “You’re serious about her, aren’t you?”

  I don’t want to get into this with my mom. If she tells me to “experience” Zora and come back to my senses too, I think I’ll give up on humanity as a species.

  “Well, are you?” she presses.

  “Yes.”

  My mom shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Saturday, Rebecca called me so excited. She said you got her a present from Eddie Bauer and you kissed her for the first time since you’ve been dating. She thought you were finally getting serious about her. She’s brokenhearted, Nicholas. I liked her for you.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt Rebecca, Mom. I did kiss her. I wanted to see if I could feel with her a fraction of what Zora makes me feel.”

  My mother’s eyes, the same blue as mine, search mine. “Are you sure what you feel for her isn’t just—”

  “Please, Mom. Please don’t say it. Because what if I do feel that? Yes, I’m attracted to her. I’m freakin’ bowled over by her beauty and sexiness. But that’s not all, Mom. She’s funny. And she’s intelligent. She’s sensual, and I feel a little more alive when I’m around her. I feel more like myself when I’m with her, and there are very few people in the world I feel that way with anymore. That I happen to feel sexually attracted to her is a little low on the scale of why I love—”

  My mother raises an eyebrow.

  I rub my hand over my mouth.

  “You were going to say you love her.”

  I pick up the menu promoting the featured pies. I don’t want to talk about being in love.

  I don’t look at Mom. She makes a sound like a balloon deflating. Almost saying I love Zora has taken the wind out of her. I guess she’d fall dead if I admitted it.

  We sit quietly until Catrina returns with our beverages. Mom sips on her coffee and I gulp down my orange juice in three big gulps.

  “I think I’ve only heard you say you were in love twice before.”

  “Yep.”

  “With Leslie Shanoski. Remember her?”

  “Yes. She was the only fifth grader in our class with breasts. All of us boys were in love with her.”

  “And you were in love when you came back from California. What was her name again? You said very little about her.”

  “Brooke Bennett.”

  “Was she white?”

  “They were all white, Mom. Every girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  “Why a black girl now, honey? Your dad thinks you’re just acting out.”

  “I know what he thinks.”

  “He said yo
u may need medication.”

  “He may have a point about that.”

  Mom looks frustrated at me. She gives me “the look.” Then takes a sip of her coffee. “That’s what I mean. We never know when you’re serious.”

  “You didn’t think I was serious when Grandpa was about to shoot me?”

  “I think that’s very serious. That’s why I’m here. I want to know if you love this woman. I want to know what your intentions are.”

  I settle back into the red vinyl. I no more know what I’m going to do with Zora than I know what I’m going to do with Nicky. I only know what I wish. But Mom thinks it’s as simple as that. Just make some kind of freakin’ declaration.

  When I don’t answer, she advances “the look” to another level. She’s getting serious with me. She wants to know my position.

  “I think she’s the one, Mom.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Because I can’t imagine living without her.”

  My mother takes what must be a scalding gulp of her coffee like it’s a shot of whiskey. She throws her head back and swallows.

  “Your life is going to be so complicated from here on out.”

  “It’s been complicated before now.”

  “You haven’t seen anything, Nicky. You’re going to grow up now.”

  At that, Catrina returns with our Grand Slams, and I can’t help but notice the irony.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ZORA

  Billie drops me off at my apartment and I see Daddy’s Bentley and my Lexus in the parking lot next to each other. He’s in there, and someone else is, too. Probably Miles.

  I tell Billie, and of course she wants to go in there with me. She feels like I’m about to be thrown to the dogs, but I have to remind her that this is my family.

  “Yeah, but I’m your family, too. And I think I treat you better.”

  “I’m going to be fine, Billie. Just let me handle them myself. I don’t need to bring them any more surprises.”

  “Are you sure, sweetie?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Tell me my phone number again.”

  Billie actually made me memorize her telephone number, and I rattle it off for the twentieth time or so.

  “Okay. Just let me go in with you.”