Dr. Paulsen reached for Charlie’s other hand and he was defeated into quiet.
I took Callie’s sticky hand in mine and Callie gingerly placed her free hand in Miss Toneybee-Leroy’s.
The only one not holding anyone’s hand was Max, who stood near my father’s end of the table, the video camera perched on his shoulder, trying to get everyone in the picture.
We bowed our heads.
This was my chance. I waited a moment, then looked up, ready to speak. I found only Charlie and the eye of the camera staring back at me. I decided I would let Lyle finish. I would tear them all down after Lyle had just graced them up.
Lyle began, “Lord of our hearts, make us truly thankful for what we are about to receive. Thank you to Charles and Laurel and the girls and, sorry, miss”—he raised his head and gave Dr. Paulsen’s hand a shake—“didn’t catch your name . . .”
“Marietta,” Dr. Paulsen replied, too anxious to give him her correct title.
“Miss Marietta,” Lyle continued, “thank you for inviting us. Gin and I are just grateful to share this day with you. And of course, a thanks to the lady who made it all possible, the lovely Miss Toneybee-Leroy.”
Everyone raised their heads and said “Amen.”
Lyle winked first at Dr. Paulsen, who dipped her head in confusion. He winked at Miss Toneybee-Leroy, too, but she only smiled serenely back. Wanting a bigger reaction, he raised her hand, which he still held in his own, from the table and gave it a theatrical squeeze for everyone to see. But still, Miss Toneybee-Leroy was oblivious. She gave us all a gummy smile and shook their clasped hands in kind.
Now, I told myself. Speak now. I cleared my throat, but no sound came.
Ginny reached to the center of the table for her dish. “Can Charlie eat these?”
My mother shook her head swiftly. “I’m sorry, Ginny. Too sweet.”
“Well.” Dr. Paulsen gave a quick, placating glance to Lyle at her left. “It can’t hurt him to try a little. I’m sure he’d like it.” After Lyle’s grace, there was no doubt for Dr. Paulsen. She knew he was a troublemaker.
My mother handed Charlie’s plate over to Ginny. When Charlie got it back, he stuck his finger in the middle of the potatoes, then brought it to his mouth and sucked on it. He blinked in Aunt Ginny’s direction and made a kiss.
Lyle cocked his head. “I can’t get over that monkey being in love with my wife.”
“He does seem smitten,” Miss Toneybee-Leroy agreed. “I’d hoped to charm him myself, but I see your wife is already first in his affections.”
“What’s not to like about Gin?” Lyle agreed. “That monkey’s got great taste.”
“He certainly does.” Miss Toneybee-Leroy turned slightly away from him. Nadine Morton leaned down between Lyle and Miss Toneybee-Leroy and began shredding the turkey on her plate.
While Nurse Morton worked, Miss Toneybee-Leroy gazed serenely in front of her, patently unembarrassed. Following her lead, everyone else pretended not to see Nadine Morton’s black arthritic fingers shredding the pale turkey meat, except for Lyle and Callie, who stared openly. Lyle glanced across the table at my father and gestured to Nadine Morton with his fork. My father turned to pass the stuffing to Ginny.
“You know,” Lyle said to Miss Toneybee-Leroy, in a loud imitation of a confidential tone, “my wife, she does everything for me, too. We’ve been married twenty years and she still makes me coffee before I wake up. Still wakes up a half hour before I do to put on makeup, to put on her face, she says. Twenty years and I’ve never seen Gin without makeup. I tell you, that monkey knows what’s what.”
“It appears he does.” Miss Toneybee-Leroy wasn’t smiling at all anymore.
Ginny blushed. She kept her eyes on her plate as they spoke.
I think it was to stop the flow of praise, to take attention off herself, that made Ginny stand up slightly in her chair. “Pass your plates up, please,” she commanded the table, and began serving out the food to everyone.
“Marietta,” Ginny pitched her voice to be heard over Charlie’s shouts, “what do you do here?”
“Well,” Dr. Paulsen began. But she didn’t finish, allowed herself to be drowned out by Charlie.
My mother was annoyed at Dr. Paulsen’s hesitation. “She runs the place, Ginny.”
Lyle reached for the platter of ham. “That’s right?”
“Yes,” Dr. Paulsen said.
“And how’d you get into that line of work?”
“Well,” she began. But I cut her off. Lyle, had begun to fork pieces of ham on my plate, unasked.
“No thanks,” I said suddenly. I’d found a place for my contrariness at last. I felt the spirit of revolution swell inside me. “I don’t eat pork anymore.” Lyle raised his eyebrows in surprise, then tilted my plate and let the meat slide back on the platter.
Ginny’s eyes widened at all of this. My mother very slightly shook her head, letting Ginny know I should be ignored.
“What’s this about?”
“Well, it’s not right for us to eat pork. I mean, we didn’t used to eat pork. Black people, I mean. I mean, like a long time ago.” I felt the Breitlings’ rules wither away. I couldn’t remember the logic. “It’s not right.” I tried once more. “It’s not right as African Americans.”
Miss Toneybee-Leroy’s whole face went soft in sympathy. I had not expected that.
“Well, what do you know, Charles. Even all the way out here, Charlotte’s gone political,” Lyle said approvingly. He lifted his own piece of ham to his mouth and took a bite. As he chewed, he said, “I could never get behind that nonsense the first time it came around, Charlotte, when I was young. It’s just an animal. It don’t mean nothing.”
“She should eat whatever she wishes,” Miss Toneybee-Leroy said.
I was confused by this, and annoyed. Julia Toneybee-Leroy was the only person at the table attempting to take my declaration seriously, but I realized, with a sting, that she did it out of pity.
That sting helped. I resolved to remember the bits and pieces of Marie’s lectures. “Pork,” I began, my voice getting surer as I followed the argument to its conclusion, “is full of all kinds of trash, Uncle Lyle. It’s got, like, parasites and toxins, because of the way the animals are raised. Pigs are really unclean. They’re some really unclean animals, even worse than Charlie—”
“He’s not an animal,” Callie blurted. Everyone at the table laughed, relieved. Callie looked at me searchingly, hurt.
I ignored her. “All right, Callie,” I said, playing up for the others, “an individual like Charlie.”
We all turned to Charlie who was signing at Ginny, catcalling her with his hands.
“Compare Charlie to the general pigs they breed to eat. Do you know how they breed those pigs?” It was a leap, but I took it, to try to get to the crimes of the Toneybee. “They breed pigs the same way they used to breed us—”
“That’s enough, Charlotte.” My mother knew exactly where I was going.
“Ha,” Lyle goaded. “Go on. Let’s hear it to the end.”
I looked at Miss Toneybee-Leroy who still looked at me pityingly. Keep going, her eyes said. And please stop. She wished for both, I saw, and this confused me.
It was the pity, though, that was galling. She was embarrassed for me, though everything in the book said she should be embarrassed for herself. The pity in her eyes made me want to cringe and apologize and stop talking and agree. But Adia’s voice in my ear told me I couldn’t.
My voice, I thought, was ready.
But I was stopped again by Lyle, this time needling Max. “This must be weird for you, man.”
Max jerked his head back from the eyepiece slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it must be a little bit of a study for you, too. To see how black folks act at a family dinner. Our theories and stuff.”
Max smiled slightly, unsure what to say next. The room was slipping away from me. I realized I didn’t want to hurt her, couldn’t hurt her, not
while she was in the room beside me.
My mother, across the table, signed to me now, not caring if Dr. Paulsen or anyone else saw, Charlotte, stop.
“My brother’s worried I’m gonna say something off,” Lyle spoke patiently to the camera lens. “But don’t worry, Charles. I’m not going to say a word.”
“Does the not saying a word start now or after dinner?” my father said. “Because you aren’t doing a very good job of it now.”
“I’m just curious.” Lyle stretched back, directed his grin to Miss Toneybee-Leroy. I stood up slightly in my chair, gripped my fork. I know, without a doubt, if Lyle were sitting beside me I would have stabbed the back of his hand with it. He was canceling me out.
“You strike me as an intelligent lady,” he continued. “A smart female such as you are, ma’am.”
Miss Toneybee-Leroy reached for her water glass. “I don’t like it when men call human women females.”
Lyle clucked. “All right, a woman such as yourself. Can I ask you, as an intelligent woman, doesn’t this all feel a little weird to you?”
“I’m not so sure that I understand what you mean,” Miss Toneybee-Leroy said distinctly. Nadine Morton put a hand on her shoulder. “And honestly, Mr. Freeman, I’m not so sure I like you so much anymore.” She flashed her gums at him. “I am sorry to be rude.”
Lyle was not intimidated.
“Well, I assure you, I like you, ma’am.” He laughed. “All I was trying to say before I offended you, and I am truly sorry to offend you, ma’am, that was not my intention, what I was trying to say is, don’t you think it’s odd you white folks, no offense to yourself or Miss Marietta, of course, no offense to the young man with the camera, I’ve forgotten your name . . .”
“Max,” Max said.
“All right, okay. Yeah. You. Don’t you think it’s odd to watch my baby brother and his family as hard as you watch Charlie? With that nice young man’s video camera and all?” Lyle said.
I gouged the tablecloth with my fork, praying for Lyle to shut up and cede the floor. I felt my heart beat fast in my throat. It was almost too late. If I yelled over him, my voice would sound flat, the speech itself would disappear, leaving behind something thin and flat and headache inducing, like a whiff of spilled gasoline.
“Don’t you think, Miss Toneybee-Leroy,” Lyle continued, “that we’re all, me and my wife and my brother and his family, don’t you think we’re just as much of a specimen at this dinner as that monkey over there?”
Dr. Paulsen stood up. “Miss Toneybee, if I may?” she said, but did not wait for approval. “Mr. Freeman, that was never our intention. And I do not like what you’re insinuating. And frankly, what you are implying is insulting to everyone at this table. We are all working extremely hard. We would do this with any family, really. Your family just happens to be black.”
Lyle snorted at this.
“It’s a descriptor of your family who is participating in this experiment. Not an identity,” Dr. Paulsen said, firmly.
“Like how Charlie just happens to be a chimpanzee?”
I’m not sure whether Lyle knew exactly what he meant by this, but even Dr. Paulsen knew enough not to challenge that one. She sat down. Lyle took a swig from his water glass.
“You’re making a fool out of yourself,” my father said quietly.
“I’m pointing out the truth.”
“Since when have you cared about any of this?” my father said. “Since when have you ever cared about being conscious or whatever you want to call it? You’re wearing a cravat, for Christ sake.”
Miss Toneybee-Leroy’s head was high and her eyes were burning.
“I’m just saying what I happen to see in this room,” Lyle retorted. “A whole bunch of black folks eating dinner provided by white folks, interacting with a monkey, so that this nice white lady,” he gestured to Miss Toneybee-Leroy, “and that young man behind the camera, I’m sorry, son, what is your name again?”
“Max,” Max said miserably.
“Max over there, can film it all. And take some notes. And it isn’t exactly clear where these notes end up. I’m just speculating here.”
“It is odd,” Ginny began. My mother shot her a look and she stopped her from going further.
“Yeah,” Lyle said, “like, is this a Tuskegee-type situation or—”
“That’s enough, Lyle,” my father said, more forcefully.
Ginny gasped. Miss Toneybee-Leroy’s eyes shot open. During this whole exchange, Charlie had taken the opportunity to reach one of his long arms behind my mother’s chair and begin inching his fingers closer to Ginny. With everyone preoccupied, Charlie took his chance. He swiped forward and yanked down hard on Ginny’s sleeve, tore free a good piece of silk. He snatched it back to his side of the table, to hold over his nose, the fabric delicately shuddering with each breath. Then he opened his mouth and began tonguing the rag. As we all watched, before any of us could stop him, he stuffed the whole bolt of cloth between his teeth and began lolling it around with his tongue.
“Oh my,” Miss Toneybee-Leroy gasped out with a laugh.
“That’s disgusting,” Callie said.
Poor Ginny touched her ripped sleeve, her newly bare arm. She gazed up at all of us wonderingly. Charlie hadn’t taken his eyes off her the whole time, and when she looked at him, he brought his free hand to his nose and sniffed his fingers, then opened his mouth to show us all the spit-dampened silk. He pressed his lips closed and ran his fingertips around their edges.
Ginny covered her face with her hands and began to cry. My mother at first ignored her, reaching for Charlie, but Dr. Paulsen was already beside him. “Go to her,” she told my mother. “I can handle him.”
Lyle also decided on laughter. He got up grinning and stood by Ginny. “Oh God, Gin, I’m sorry.” He tried to sober himself, put his hand on the back of her chair. “I’m sorry, baby. You okay?”
She jerked away from him, pushed her chair back from the table. “Come with me.” My mother caught her elbow. “We’ll find you something new to wear.”
Ginny followed her down the unfamiliar hallway. We heard the click as the lights turned on for them.
“Max,” Dr. Paulsen called, “a little help, please.”
Max put the camera down on the floor. Charlie was now slowly pulling the piece of cloth out of his mouth like a magician pulling scarves.
Miss Toneybee-Leroy called out, “There’s no way you’ll calm him down now. He’s far too excited.” She caught Lyle’s gaze. “And this night, perhaps, has been too much for me. Marietta, calm him down. To the rest of you, I’ll have to take my leave.”
We stood up and filed out, leaving Dr. Paulsen and Max crouched around Charlie’s chair.
In the living room, Nadine Morton brushed off my father’s attempts to help and put a dingy down overcoat first across Miss Toneybee-Leroy’s shoulders, then an identical one across her own.
My father offered, bravely, “I’m sorry for this.”
Miss Toneybee-Leroy replied evenly, “I’ve had worse directed my way.”
Finally, Lester Potter was at the door, ready to take them to their car. Miss Toneybee-Leroy gazed at me and Callie with damp, avid eyes. “Good-bye, girls,” she called, and then she was gone, taking any hope of retribution with her.
When they were gone, my father crossed to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of brandy.
Lyle sat down on the couch, rubbed his hand against the deflated cushions. “I can’t get one of those?”
“Not after all that.” But my father poured a second glass anyway.
Lyle swirled his brandy before he took a sip. “You know I’m right, Charles. I may have been obnoxious about it, but you know I’m right.”
“We’re not gonna talk about it now,” my father said.
“This is a ridiculous situation,” Lyle said. “I don’t care how much they’re paying you. You have to understand my point of view. You’re my own flesh and blood—”
“Lyle.” My father cut him off, gestured with his glass to where Callie and I stood. “Girls,” he called, “go find somewhere else to play.”
“But,” I began, my insides raging. I took the tattered speech from my pocket and cleared my throat. It could still count if I read it now, I told myself. The important part was the action, the action had to be made. The audience was gone, but I could still make the action.
“When in the course of human events . . .”
It had been Adia’s idea to crib the opening lines from the Declaration of Independence. We’d been studying it in history anyway, and Adia liked the roll of the words. “They won’t even know,” she’d said. “At the very least, the old lady will get it.”
“When in the course of human events,” I began grandly, my voice only breaking a little in anticipation.
“Charlotte, so help me God, get out of this room right now,” my father breathed and pointed to the door.
I made a show of following Callie out of the room, but once we closed the door, we turned around and leaned against it, listening.
“All right, Lyle,” I heard my father say. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”
We heard a scattershot of clinks as they set their brandy glasses down on the coffee table, readying for the next round.
We heard Lyle say, more loudly now, “No amount of money in the world is worth this. Look at Callie. I mean, my God, look at that girl. She was always a little bit bigger, but she’s getting obese out here. That can’t be good.”
Beside me, Callie blinked, rolled back on her heels, took the hit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my father said.
“And Charlotte. She’s older, so she’s probably handling it better. But how long is this experiment supposed to last?”
“What’s that got to do with Charlotte?”
“I mean, she’s a young woman. Learning how to be a young lady. She’s a freshman in high school. How is she supposed to have any sort of a life, an adult life, if she’s the only one out here?”
“You can stop your grandstanding,” my father said. “That old white lady can’t even hear you anymore. You can stop performing.”
We Love You, Charlie Freeman Page 17
