by Lisa Patton
We had never studied at my house. William had never even been inside. “Why my house?”
“If we study there my dad won’t know you helped me. I want him to think I did it on my own.”
“Fine by me, but don’t expect much.” My house wasn’t much to look at compared to his and there certainly was no big TV.
When the light turned, he headed straight instead of taking a left toward home. Once we pulled in our drive, he took his keys out and set them on the gearshift. “You sure about this?”
I nudged his shoulder. “You scared or something?”
“Heck no.”
“Then get out of your car and come inside.”
He grabbed his backpack from the back seat and closed the door behind him.
When I opened our front door, I watched his eyes roam around the living room: at our family photos on the walls, our living room suite, our small dining room table. I showed him around, then one minute later we ended up in the kitchen. A tour of our home did not take long. Right away, his eyes darted to the front of our fridge, to a picture that had been hanging there for years. I’d looked at it so long I’d forgotten where it came from.
He lifted it off the fridge and studied it thoroughly. A drawing of what was most definitely his house with a lady, her skin crayon colored in brown, standing in the doorway. To Ruby, I Love You, William. “I can’t believe your mom kept this. I don’t remember drawing it.” He looked over at me.
“She keeps everything. Don’t open our closets. You’ll be taking your life in your own hands.”
He smiled, put the picture back where it was—underneath the teakettle magnet—and straightened it. “Do y’all have anything to eat?”
I laughed. “You just had a shake.” That boy could put down a mountain of food, and still stay skinny as a reed.
“I’m always hungry.” He pulled out a chair at our small kitchen table and took a seat.
I fixed him a Co-Cola and a slice of chess pie Mama had made the day before. Then I sat down next to him and watched him wolf down that pie like he hadn’t eaten all day.
Once he swallowed his last bite I said, “Okay, you ready to study?”
“I’m never ready to study,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s watch TV for thirty minutes. Then we’ll study.”
I shook my head playfully. “Whatever you say.”
We moseyed out to the living room and settled down onto our couch. Once we finished watching a Family Ties rerun, and the five o’clock news had started, I asked him again. “Don’t you think we better start studying?”
“I guess. But I’d rather play you a song I wrote yesterday.” He got up and sprinted toward the door. “My guitar’s in the Jeep.”
“You better get back here, boy,” I stood up and said before he could put his hand on the knob. “You’re asking for it.”
Reluctantly, he turned around. Then plopped back down on the couch. “Five more minutes?”
I shook my head and grinned. I already knew how hard it was for him to get started, but once he got going he usually did okay. “Five more minutes. That’s all you get.”
He leaned his head back and patted the seat next to him.
I sat down and leaned back, too. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his eyes were closed. He was thinking hard on something. Then he glanced around the room.
“I could live in this house. I used to feel bad for black people who had to live in small houses like this, but now that I’m here I realize I could live here, too.”
“You’re crazy,” I told him. “You could not.”
“Yes, I could.” He shrugged, started to say something else, but stopped.
“What? Go on and say it.”
“I was gonna say … I could live here because I’d be loved.” He turned to look me in the eye. “My parents don’t love me, Pearl.”
“William. You better stop thinking those things. They do love you.”
“I can count on one hand the times I’ve actually had meaningful conversations with either one of them. They’re much more concerned about Ole Miss football, and the furniture I can’t sit on, than spending time with their kids. My mom is at the Alpha Delt house way more than our house. Still. After all these years. And my dad … he still has posters of Archie Manning in his office.”
I gave him an understanding nod.
“See, you are lucky.” His once-smiling face had become expressionless. He looked at me with a longing gaze. “Wouldn’t you hate it if your mom was like that?”
He was right. I would hate it. Listening to William talk, watching him mourn the divide between him and his parents, made me realize I was more than lucky. I was rich. But that didn’t keep me from wishing I could take away his pain.
I can still see his tan corduroy trousers. And the way he nervously jiggled his leg. I reached over and softly patted his thigh. “Your mother does love you. She has a different way of showing it; that’s all.”
“Is it okay if your mom loves me, too?” Another tear seeped into his eye.
“Of course it is.” I patted him again.
“That … doesn’t make you mad? Or sad?”
I shook my head no. And I meant it.
Then he let his tears flow. I don’t know why he chose that day to vent; I guess he just needed to get it all off his chest. And I was a listening ear, someone he felt comfortable confiding in. William McKinney sat there on our sofa and cried like a little boy. I reached over, put my arm around him, and pulled him into my side. I needed to help him feel better, make him stop crying. He laid his head on my shoulder; his long hair covering my fingers. I stroked his head, because that’s what I do. I’m affectionate and I touch people who need comfort. I sat up to look at him and wiped his tears away with my fingers. He reached up and put his hand behind my neck. The next thing I knew, we were kissing.
I’ve blocked it out for ages, but now, as I clean the silver service he insisted my mama keep, it’s all coming back. The way he looked at me when our lips touched. How he stroked my cheeks, first one then the other, with the back of his hand. The way he held on to me like he never wanted to let go. How he stood up, took me by the hand, and led me into my bedroom. How we both sat down on my bed and fell back into the mattress. How he unbuttoned my shirt and told me I was beautiful. And how I knew by the sweet person he was, and probably still is, he was telling me the truth.
I had been at Ole Miss one month when I gave birth to our baby.
Bless Mama’s heart. It almost destroyed her when she had to give up her only grandchild. She wanted to raise Autumn herself. But Mr. and Mrs. McKinney wouldn’t hear of it. They learned of a family in Memphis who had been waiting five years on a baby, and she was gone two days after she was born. I didn’t hold her but one time. The McKinneys never laid eyes on her.
She had dark hair and William’s blue eyes. Mama said they might turn brown when she got older, but we never knew for sure. Her skin was light. Not perfectly white, just light, but she could pass for Caucasian. Looking like she did, everyone agreed it would be hard for us to raise her, especially in light of who her grandparents were and their place in the Oxford community.
William never once got to see her. When they learned I was pregnant, his parents quickly shipped him off to college—all the way up to Rhode Island. At least it got him out of going to Ole Miss; he never wanted to go there in the first place. He said his daddy finally gave up on him playing football and let him concentrate on his art. I think he gave up on William, period, once he learned he had a half-black grandchild.
Make no mistake about it. No one twisted my arm; I agreed to the adoption. The entire time I was carrying her I told myself I couldn’t be bothered with a baby; my chief concern was me. I wanted to be the first college graduate in our family. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. Not yet.
I gave birth on a Sunday morning, missed school on Monday, and was back in class on Tuesday. I stayed in college the rest of that semester, and the one after that. But as the
days went on, I became depressed. As much as I wanted to make a name for myself, I couldn’t find the strength to do it. I found myself falling deeper and deeper into despair. I regretted my decision. But it was too late. And I have spent almost every day since wondering where she is and how she’s getting along. Who is treating her right, and who is breaking her heart. All the normal feelings a mother has for her child.
I hear William is doing well now. While he was in college, he met and married a nice girl and they still live outside New York City with a big family of kids. I read about him every once in a while in the Oxford Eagle. He’s a landscape artist. Fairly famous, I believe. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have a thing to show for our time with the McKinney family. Except for Aunt Fee’s house, this silver service, and Autumn. But she’s not mine to show.
Now all six pieces look shiny and brand new. Especially the sugar jar. It catches my reflection. I pick it up and stare into it for a long while. Looking at myself, I can’t help but wonder if our baby girl holds any resemblance to me at all.
FIFTY-NINE
CALI
“Are y’all awake?” Jasmine and I are already in our beds when we hear Ellie knocking. “Open up. It’s me.”
I stumble off my mattress and head to the door. Although it’s only ten o’clock on a Thursday night we’re both exhausted from pulling study all-nighters twice this week.
Once I let her in, Ellie balls her hands into fists, swings them over her head, and glides inside. At least someone’s perky around this place, I think, watching her squat with her legs shoulder-length apart, feet angled outward. She puckers her lips and sways her body from side to side, jutting her chin with each move. Obviously not as tired as she thought, Jasmine jumps off her bed and mimics Ellie, only she puts her facial magic with it. I can’t sit still watching my two best friends dance so I squat, too, throw my arm in the air and whip with them.
“Cali?” Jasmine asks, rocking her body from side to side.
“Yeah?” Ellie whips a slightly bent arm above her head, then rocks to the same rhythm as Jasmine.
“Why are we whipping?” Jasmine asks. “With no jive?”
“Because I have something to tell y’all. And you might not hear me over the music.” By now, Ellie’s a little out of breath.
“Tell us already,” I say, swaying to the imaginary beat.
“Eli Manning’s people called my dad,” she says as casually as she might talk about the weather. Then a sly smile creeps onto her lips. “And Eli said yessssss!” She screams and stands straight up, then throws her arms overhead, prancing in place.
Jasmine and I fall down on our butts.
“You’re lying,” I yell. “No freaking way.”
“Your dad is the man,” Jasmine says. “Wait till I tell Carl. He’ll buy a ticket. So will the rest of his friends.”
After we hear footsteps scrambling down the hall, Tara and Bailey pop their heads in our door. “What’s up?” Tara says from the doorframe.
Bailey pushes her inside and they both plop down on our futon. “What are y’all yelling about?” Bailey asks.
Hannah and Claudia, our next-door neighbors on the elevator side, tumble in also. Hannah jumps up on my bed and Claudia scoots in next to Tara and Bailey.
“Remember how we were telling y’all we thought it was awful that the Alpha Delt staff doesn’t have benefits?” Ellie asks.
The three on the couch nod, but Hannah says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s right,” I say. “You weren’t here that day. Our pledge class wants to make staff benefits our philanthropy project.” I scoot back a little so everyone can see my face while I’m talking. “Ellie’s dad got freaking Eli Manning to agree to let us sell tickets for an evening out at City Grocery with him and his wife, Abby.”
“That’s crazy,” Claudia says. “How much are y’all selling them for?”
“At first we thought, like, twenty dollars, but my dad has done tons of research and now he thinks we need to sell them for twenty-five.” Ellie’s about to lose it. Her hands are swinging all over the place. “So we’ll have money for several years to come.”
“How’d your dad do that?” Hannah asks. “Does he know Eli Manning or something?”
“He’s met him before, but they’re both Sigma Nus. And they have a good mutual friend.”
Tara and Bailey, who are both Pi Phis, look at each other. “We should do something like that for our staff,” Bailey says.
“We all should,” Claudia, who is a KD, says. “Abby Manning was a KD here. Maybe she could help us.”
I happen to look up and notice Annie Laurie in the doorway. There’s no telling how long she’s been standing there. She’s not happy like the rest of us; she’s frowning. When everyone sees me looking at her they look, too. “What are y’all talking about?” she snaps. Her voice is icy and accusatory.
Hannah, who is totally oblivious to the backstory, says innocently, “Oh ma God. I’m getting my parents to buy at least ten tickets for a chance at an evening out with Eli and Abby Manning. And if they win, I’m going.” She pulls her legs up underneath her and leans back against the wall.
Claudia leans forward, puts her hands on her knees. “You’re taking me with you, right?”
“Hell, yeah,” Hannah says.
Annie Laurie’s expression morphs from a frown to stone-cold furious. I mean, everyone knows she has bitchy resting face, but now she looks possessed. She’s glaring at Ellie and me. It’s scary. “My mom flat-out told y’all you couldn’t do that. Why did you go against her wishes? She’s the House Corp President. What she says goes.”
A hush descends on our room. Everyone’s eyes are darting around, looking at one another—looking anywhere—but at her. The tension feels as thick as mud.
Leave it to Jasmine to cut through it. She moves in toward her. “Annie Laurie. Let me ask you a question.” Her arms are crossed in her usual audacious way, but her tone is surprisingly nice. “Why would your mother want to block something that could be a big help to people? I don’t know the staff at the Alpha Delt House, but from what I hear they work their asses off.” None of the rest of us says anything. But now, because of Jasmine, we’re all looking right at Annie Laurie.
She crosses her arms in front of her like she’s daring any of us to cross her. “Y’all don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone makes her sound just like her mother. Like she’s the smartest person in the room and we’re all imbeciles. “Alpha Delt can’t afford staff benefits. We’re not Walmart.”
“Really?” Jasmine tilts her head to the side. Her tone has sharpened. “You mean to tell me that everyone in Alpha Delt can’t afford to pitch in a little extra?” She glances over her shoulder at the rest of us. “What does it cost y’all to belong to a sorority, anyway? Four or five thousand a year?”
Ellie tucks her hair behind her ears, then twists it across her shoulder. “At first my dad thought it would cost a lot more, but after researching he says it would only cost each girl fifteen more dollars a month to give our entire staff health, dental, and life insurance, plus a retirement fund.”
“Shut up!” Hannah’s bulging eyes make her look like a cartoon character. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Ellie says. “Crazy, huh?”
“That’s less than a T-shirt.” Claudia’s leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “How many of those will we buy in a year?”
“It’s the same as, like, three Starbucks venti lattes a month,” Hannah says with a shrug.
Jasmine bobs her head. “Or two cheap glasses of wine.”
“What if everybody gave … ten more on top of the fifteen?” Tara asks. “It would give the staff a better paycheck.”
Ellie erupts from the corner of my bed. “Yes! That would be sweet.”
“Y’all need to check with a real professional on that,” Annie Laurie says in a condescending tone. “Someone besides Ellie’s dad. If my mom thought it was a
smart business decision for Alpha Delt, she would have done it already. She only has our best interests at heart, y’all.”
“Best interests? Seems like taking care of your people is in your best interests,” Jasmine says under her breath. “But what do I know?”
As awkward and weird and uncomfortable as this is, I pretty much can’t take Annie Laurie anymore. All the mean comments she’s made since school started, and the snobby way she’s treated me—not to mention her mother snooping into my past and lying to my grandparents—all of it has pushed me to my tipping point. She’s just like her mother. I step toward her. “What is it with you and your mother, Annie Laurie? I mean, seriously.”
Her shoulders rear back, but I step closer. Now I’m only a few feet from her.
“Y’all’s main concern is how Alpha Delt looks on the outside, not the inside. It’s obvious you don’t care that our staff barely makes enough to survive, as long as the house looks pretty and has a Southern aristocratic image—with only black people working there.”
When a look of shock passes over Annie Laurie’s face I have to admit I’m surprised at myself, too. But I keep going. “Have y’all ever stopped to think about how the House looks as nice as it does? Or about that delicious home-cooked meal you eat every day now? Maybe y’all think a genie lives in the kitchen and … abracadabra, poof! Four hundred fifty dinners appear on the tables by magic!”
I hear nervous laughter behind me, but I don’t care. “Our staff work their butts off.” When I say this my voice cracks because I can’t help thinking about Miss Ophelia dead in the ground, and Miss Pearl missing her so much. And all the other things she told me about working there. “Don’t you and your mother think they deserve to be compensated for the hard work they do?”
“They get paid holidays and perks you don’t even know about,” Annie Laurie says. “They rack in a ton of Christmas presents.” Straight from her mother’s lips to hers. But the way she said it seems like she was just quoting her mother. Her arms are no longer crossed. And she’s rubbing the insides of her palms anxiously.
