A Kind of Freedom

by Margaret Wilkerson Sexton

  “He’s the kind of man who would own what’s his,” she said to Ruby now.

  “Maybe that’s the kind of man he was, but war changes people.” Ruby looked at her, her eyes narrowed in a sliver of rage.

  Then Ruby burst into tears. She put her head down.

  “Don’t cry now, Ruby.” Evelyn started to stand up to comfort her, but it took too long in her compromised state. By the time Evelyn reached her, Ruby had stopped.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Nobody will ever say Ruby cried over a man, a no-count one at that.” Ruby looked down again. “It seems like everything and everybody is being taken from me, and you’re getting added to the list.”

  “Oh, no, Ruby.” Evelyn embraced her. She didn’t know where this burst of love had sprung from, but she wondered if it was from her daughter, still a promise in her belly, or the vow Renard had made to return.

  “It’s true. You know it’s true. You’re getting Renard back, and I got”—she opened her hands over a ball of air, then collapsed them—“nothing. I got nothing.”

  “You got me,” Evelyn said.

  “Yeah, right. As soon as that baby comes, and Renard gets here, you’re going to be out so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  “Oh, Ruby, who knows if he’ll even have me when he comes back?”

  “He’ll have you.” Ruby nodded. “He’ll be more pleased when he sees you like this. Trust me. Everything always works out for you.”

  Evelyn had wavered until that second, but her sister’s words rooted her faith. There were only so many times Ruby said anything kind, and she’d never lie just to save face. No, maybe it was true. Maybe Evelyn could relax into it: Renard was coming back. Renard was coming back. Not only that, but he’d be more excited to see she was expecting. It was going to work out.

  Evelyn rubbed her sister’s back. “We’re sisters, Ruby. I’m never going to desert you.” She didn’t know how many times she repeated that, but at some point, she looked down, and her sister had fallen asleep.

  Jackie

  Winter 1987

  Jackie had called in sick the last few workdays to avoid seeing her parents, but she’d had the weekend to calm down, plus she was running out of paid leave. She had decided the night before that she would head in this morning, and she woke up early, got dressed in her knee-length blue dress with lace at the top, spent some time on her makeup—etched the eyeliner over her lashes just so—let Terry drive her all the way to the front door instead of dropping her a block from the school. There were no more secrets after all.

  Her mama was composed as ever, and they discussed the status of the school day with polite nods while Jackie folded her kids’ just-in-case clothes, washed the paint off their smocks, hung them to dry. It didn’t take long before Mama started really talking though and Jackie felt trapped inside what she might say.

  “We didn’t want to upset you the other night, Jackie Marie.”

  “No?” Jackie was far less concerned about her parents’ opinion after talking to Terry, and she could tell that came across in her plain expression; her mother looked at her as if she didn’t recognize the woman who had spoken.

  “No,” she said. “Of course not. You’re not just my daughter, you’re my friend, and I would never want to cause you pain.”

  That softened Jackie to her. Her mother was her friend, her best friend since Terry had gone, and Jackie had shut everyone else out. Mama walked over and stood next to her, and Jackie leaned onto her shoulder.

  “I know, Mama,” she said, sighing. “But you have to let me make my own decisions.”

  Mama nodded. “I’m working on it,” she said. “I’m working on it,” she repeated. Jackie looked at her hands as she spoke, noticed the veins that had started to pop, sharp tubes like the inside of a spider web. When had that happened?

  “I talked to your daddy,” Mama went on, “and he’s coming around. I’m making it so that he’ll come around. I just want to ask you before we move on any further with this—are you sure this time?”

  Jackie paused before she answered. The question was so antithetical to her new method of survival; the only way she had maintained her peace these last few months was by embracing the fact that she would never be sure. And who was sure about anything? Were they sure Daddy wouldn’t walk outside in a few minutes and get toppled over by an eighteen-wheeler? That Mama wouldn’t go in for her next mammogram and walk out with a death sentence? Who of them could pretend to be sure?”

  “I just want to be certain,” her mama repeated. “Because it’s not just you, it’s that baby.” She clutched her heart.

  “It’s been good for him to have a father,” Jackie said, trying to dodge the question.

  “Now it is, but— Never mind, I didn’t even want to get into this, Jackie.” Her mother stepped back from her and Jackie’s head wobbled from the shift. “You were right to say it’s your decision, and as your parents, we just need to stand by you. I just want to be as clear as I can, are you as sure as you can be?”

  Jackie didn’t speak for a while, then when the last paintbrush had been cleaned, she looked up. She nodded.

  “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life, Mama,” she said, and her mama grimaced as if that wasn’t the right answer.

  Terry fell back in with her family after that though, as though Jackie saying she was sure had made it so. It started with him picking the baby up from Mama’s one night because Jackie had to stay late at work. When Jackie got home that evening, he still wasn’t back, and when she saw his car pull into the parking lot a few minutes later, she ran down the stairs to meet him. It had to be a good sign that he’d stayed so long, and she wanted to hear the details of the visit, unwind them, spin them out. Before all this he was just as entwined in their family unit as she was. Sometimes she’d drive up her parents’ carport, and she’d see his car out in front. She’d walk in and he’d be watching the Saints game on her mama’s sofa, clutching a bowl of gumbo in his lap. She had missed that familiarity as much as she had missed him, and she begged him to tell her it was back.

  “We just talked,” he said, settling his white jacket on the arm of the sofa.

  “Yes, I get that you talked,” she teased, “but talked about what? You were gone three hours.”

  “Was I? Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess,” he chuckled, knowing he was leading her on, and Jackie slapped him with a pillow.

  “If you don’t tell me everything they said and then everything you said back—” she threatened, smiling.

  He rolled his eyes at her, sat down at the kitchen table. “You know your parents, baby. You know what they said better than I do. They drilled me at first of course. Wanting to know what my plans were for you and the baby.”

  “What did you say?” She sat down next to him.

  “I’m getting to that, Jackie. I said it was to make you happy, to make up for any wrongs I’ve done.’” He smiled at her then. “That was good, right?”

  She nodded, trying not to laugh.

  “They asked me about work, if I didn’t think it was too soon to go back, if I really thought I was in a position to handle that level of responsibility. ‘Now be honest with yourself, son’”—he was mimicking her daddy now—“‘every man has his weaknesses, but the important thing is to be honest about what they are.’”

  Jackie laughed. “That sounds like my daddy.”

  “He talked more than your mom did,” Terry went on. “She just listened, looking halfway like she felt bad for me.”

  “And that’s my mama,” Jackie added.

  “I answered them best I could.”

  “That went on for three hours?”

  “No, indeed. I couldn’t have handled it. After a little while, we just watched the Cosby show, laughed over that fool Cliff. Your mama wanted me to eat before I left.

  “W
hat’d she cook?”

  “Red beans and rice.”

  Jackie nodded. It was a Monday.

  “How do you feel?” she asked finally.

  He sighed, a long exhale. “Good,” he said. “Really good actually. Like all the missing pieces are back in place. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was worried they weren’t going to take me back.”

  “They loved you. You were a son to them.”

  “They loved me, but I hurt you. I wouldn’t blame them if they couldn’t get over it.”

  “They’re good people.”

  “They are.” He paused for a few minutes. “And I’m going to do right by them.”

  She pulled him to her then. “You are,” she said. “You are,” she repeated. She kissed him for a long time the way they would kiss when all they had were ten minutes in her daddy’s Lincoln before curfew. She straddled him, and he groaned. She dipped her body down to feel him beneath her. She clutched him to her as tight as she could, and the heat of the embrace poured over her, reached through her and back out again, radiating between them both as if they were one unit. Soon their clothes were off and it felt so much like before that she let herself believe no time had passed. When they were done, he wanted to talk. He’d missed her so much, he’d needed that more than she could imagine, he never wanted to be without her a day in his life. She’d grunt here and there. Though she felt the same way he did, she just lay still, afraid to speak or move for fear she’d unsettle this new feeling.

  It was more of the same after that. Jackie and Terry dropped by her mother’s as much as they could, sometimes to leave the baby so they could catch a movie at the Plaza or grab a bite at Praline Connection, but often they’d just sit on her mama’s sofa and talk about city politics, stuff their faces with jelly cake. Her parents always asked Terry about work, and he’d say it was fine and change the subject. He still ironed his white jacket and whistled on his way out the front door, usually some Prince song they’d listened to the night before while making love. Those days, she’d go to work whistling herself, feeling as if the world were organized in her favor, the way she’d grown up thinking it would be.

  Sure, she thought he seemed despondent some nights. He wouldn’t say much to her or the baby. Rather, he’d just stare at the TV screen as if he were engrossed in some show, but he wouldn’t always laugh when a joke was told, and he’d fall asleep in that position, sometimes without changing from his work clothes.

  She told herself he was just tired. After all, he got up at 5 a.m. every day, watched her while she nursed the baby, then when she was done, he’d shower first, start breakfast, and, sure, she did it too, but he wasn’t used to it. Surely it would take some time to adjust.

  He seemed to perk up when it came time to schedule T.C.’s first birthday party, and at the first sign of his excitement, she did too. The morning of, she woke up at 4 a.m. to cut finger sandwiches and break off the crusts; she made homemade ice cream and pasta salad; she cut grapes in half and baked a three-layer chocolate cake. She wasn’t good at frosting, so she stood over Terry’s shoulder as he etched roses along the circle’s border, then drew in scribbled white icing, happy birthday t.c.!

  They’d arranged to have it at the Fly, the piece of Audubon Park behind the zoo, and on the way they stopped at Castnet for fresh crawfish to boil. By the time they had set up the propane cooker, people started arriving, people that she hadn’t seen in months, not since Terry had gone and come. While she cut potatoes and onions to add to the boil, her girlfriends caught her up on who was hitting the clubs at night, who had stepped out with her boss, who had lost twenty pounds on that new three-day diet, and by the way, what was Jackie doing because she’d dropped that baby weight like it was hot. Everybody was so happy to see Terry. They must have heard talk about his absence, but they were polite enough not to ask questions, and Jackie didn’t even worry about rumors springing up, because in this new world she had accessed, it didn’t merely feel as if the rumors weren’t relevant, it felt as if the circumstances that had led to them had never taken place. Halfway into the party, once the crawfish had been dumped onto the newspaper and people were licking their fingers and asking what spices she’d added to the pot, Jackie realized her face cramped from smiling so hard.

  After the cake was cut, her daddy beckoned her over for a family picture. And even seeing her sister didn’t cut into her joy. The two women talked briefly. Sybil tried to take the baby, but he cried to stay with his mother, and Jackie squeezed Terry’s hand as they lined up together to smile for the camera. While he was gone there had been so many occasions that called for pictures like these, and she’d been alone. Those instances had fomented her gratitude now.

  When they were done, Jackie waved the Polaroid in the air, waiting for the faces to coalesce. Then she really studied it. It was a great picture of her, her skin glowed, she had lost weight, and she’d treated herself to a hair appointment the night before. Terry looked even more groomed than the day he’d come back: He had grown a goatee, he was going to the gym again, and his skin had smoothed out where there had been light splotches before. Then there was Sybil. Jackie’s sister stood between Mama and Daddy in the same position she’d occupied when they were still children. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t angry either, only sad, if Jackie was reading it right. And Jackie felt a sharp pity for her, but not something she wanted to do anything about, like the emotion you’d feel for a beggar on the street.

  Terry strode up to her as they were packing up.

  “It went all right, huh?”

  “Better than all right.”

  “People loved that cake. I mean, I think it was the frosting that did it, the way those roses were coiled on the top just so.”

  They laughed.

  “Some of the boys want to go out from here.”

  “Where to?” Jackie asked. She had hoped the comfort of the day would extend itself tonight, that they would go home, settle into a movie, and fall asleep together.

  “Just to a quick dinner, I won’t be out long.” He yawned. “I’m tired from today as it is.” He paused. “It was so good to see people though,” he went on, “and I just want to see it through.”

  She nodded. She understood that. She felt as if she’d stepped back into their old life, and back then if Terry had said he wanted to go out, she would have just nodded, not even asked where he was headed.

  “Of course,” she said now, smiling, puckering her lips for a kiss. “Have fun.” She watched him walk away. Aunt Ruby approached her from behind and rubbed her back.

  “You did the right thing, baby,” she said.

  Letting him go? Jackie almost asked, but Aunt Ruby kept talking.

  “You got to live your own life. Bad or good, it’s got to be yours.”

  Jackie didn’t mean to stay up. It just happened, watching the old numbers fold into new ones on her digital clock. When Terry came back, it was 3:42. He stopped in the kitchen for water, tiptoed down the hall, undressed in the bathroom, then tried to slink into the bed.

  “Where were you?” she asked with more edge than she knew was there, and she thought she saw him jump.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he started. “One thing led to another, the wait was too long at one place, so we went to a different one.”

  “The food didn’t come out till after midnight?”

  “Well, then we ran into my buddy from the VA. You remember Michael from the other day?”

  “The one who got you started on those drugs,” she said. She knew it wasn’t him but she wanted to make her point.

  He just breezed past it. “He wanted to take me out for a drink.”

  She paused before she spoke, taking in the full meaning of what he’d just told her.

  “You can’t be in a bar, Terry,” she said finally, trying to contain her voice so she wouldn’t wake the baby.

  “No,
no, not technically, and I told him that, I told him that a bunch of times, but I did all right, Jackie. I didn’t have a sip. They asked me and they asked me.”

  “And that’s my point!” She was screaming now. “Today was a good day. We celebrated your only child’s first birthday, but suppose you go back next time and things aren’t going so well, you think your will is going to be as tough?”

  “I’m not in the habit of frequenting bars, baby. You know that.” He reached out to nuzzle her cheek, and she pushed back on instinct.

  “I don’t know anything, Terry. Things have changed now.” She paused. She sat up in bed, wringing her hands out as if they were dish towels.

  “What’s changed, baby? Nothing’s changed. We celebrated the baby’s birthday, I went out for dinner, and now I’m home. Everything is the same as it was.”

  She shook her head.

  “What, baby? Name me one thing that’s changed.” His voice was coming out hot now, not angry but animated, as if he were arguing a case for a jury.

  “Shh.” She nodded at the baby. “Look,” she said, “I just know that you made me some promises, and now they’re starting to break.”

  He sighed. His conviction seemed to wilt at the sound of the word promises. He sat down, put his head in his hands.

  “You’re right,” he whispered so low Jackie had to ask him to repeat it.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re right, you’re right. I let you down.”

  “You let yourself down.”

  “I let us both down,” he said, and he reached for her hand, but she held it back. “But I just choked. I said no a few times, but they kept asking.”

  “Michael knows your situation and kept asking? What kind of friend is that?”

  “Not everybody understands, Jackie.”

  “Well, then you need to be the one to explain it to them. It’s your life, after all. Their lives aren’t going to be affected in the least if you go back to using.” It was the first time she had referenced the threat out loud, the one that kept her up some nights, the one that was gripping her now.