The Girl on the Outside Read online

  The clack-up, clack-up of her father loading his shotgun made a weird sound in the darkness. Eva’s heart beat wildly with fear.

  “Where’s y’ mama?” her father whispered.

  “She’s sleep. Should I get her?”

  “No. Everything’s all right.”

  They listened in the dark. The long shotgun lay menacingly across her father’s knees.

  Finally, her father said, “You go on t’ bed, now.”

  “Lemme stay with you, Daddy,” she pleaded.

  “Do what I tell y’, now,” her father whispered firmly.

  Eva lay in her bed listening to the sounds of the night. The sound of cars in the distance alerted her. She could not breathe freely until she was sure they were not nearing her door. In the stillness a lone mosquito zing-zing-zinged near her ear. She worried about her father, sitting in the darkness alone. Then she thought of Tanya. She was glad Tanya did not have to see their father with a shotgun on his knees. Even though the night was hotter than most she had seen, she lay shivering in the dark.

  Chapter 5

  Monday dawned. The morning light seeped through the open window of Sophia’s bedroom. The curtains were not drawn, but not a bit of air coursed through. Another hot day aborning.

  Sophia stirred, tossed about, then woke feeling the ill effects of troubled sleep. Desegregation, Burt’s attitude, and now Arnold lay heavily on her mind—like the weight of a sleeping cat. She stretched and sighed, feeling sorry for herself.

  She lay looking at the ceiling, her hands folded under her head, elbows near her ears, recalling how she’d been nasty to Arnold. The television had been on in her father’s study and she had hoped to escape to her room unnoticed. She was not so lucky. When she reached her room her mother was there with quilt pieces spread over Sophia’s bed.

  “Back … so soon?” her mother asked.

  “This heat tires me out, Mother,” Sophia said, trying to keep her voice and manner even, normal.

  “Where’s Arnold?”

  “Home, I guess.”

  “You should have asked him in for some of the ice cream we made.”

  Sophia said nothing and slumped into a chair with her legs outstretched.

  Her mother went on laying the pieces to determine how many more were needed to finish the quilt. She glanced at Sophia. “You all right, dear?”

  “I’m fine, Mother,” she said drawing herself upright. She smiled. “That’s going to be the prettiest of all the quilts you’ve made. Wish it were mine.”

  “It’s for your dowry. Hope we’ll have time to get it finished.” She looked at Sophia, winked, and laughed.

  Sophia flushed, “Aw, Mother, girls don’t have dowries, anymore. You know that.”

  “Well, for your hope chest, then.”

  Now Sophia turned onto her side. Hope chest, she thought, and grimaced. Her mind wandered to the things she had been collecting since she was sixteen. They were stored in an ebony cedar-lined chest: two silk sheets, hand-embroidered pillow slips, imported linen luncheon sets and a fine lace tablecloth … all carefully stored to be unpacked only after her wedding in her own house. And that Arnold! It could have been a perfect evening. Suddenly she felt angry. Then his face above the white collar of the choir robe appeared in her mind’s eye as it had been when he asked, “At seven?”

  It was not going to be easy. Why couldn’t I have gone into that church? she asked herself. But he had no right. If only he had told me. She remembered the warm gentleness and the look in his eyes when he had said, “I’ve never come here with anyone else before.… I care about you.…” Her heart leaped and she went cold at the thought of living with her feelings about Arnold. Oh, I was a fool not to trust him, she cried to herself.

  Anxious and miserable, she turned out of bed and stood by the window looking into the distance. The stillness of the house blended with the quiet of this Labor Day morning. The pale sky, almost silver, had a smattering of feathery, salmon-pink clouds forecasting the rising sun. Dew sparkled on the grass, refreshing the morning, forestalling the heat of the coming day.

  The whole of yesterday crowded in on her and she remembered crying on Arnold’s shoulder. Again the words “I care about you …” pushed all other thoughts aside. She went back to bed thinking, he’ll call and everything will be all right.

  She lay trying to clear her mind of all thought but her mind would not obey. If only it wasn’t happening, she said to herself as the nine Negroes flashed before her mind’s eye.

  Finally, there was a blank—darkness. Then she was alone on a long trail that led over a low-lying hill. On each side of the trail small dry bush stubbornly spread out far and wide all over the valley. The trail led to a place where Sophia knew she was forbidden. But it was a place where she had always wanted to go.

  As she walked along, she felt tranquil. She was almost to the hill before she encountered any living thing. Then she passed a woman hidden behind a parasol. Sophia could see only a dingy dress and an apron that covered the woman’s ankles, but she knew that the woman was colored and that she was very old. She met two more women just like the first, and not once did the women speak or show themselves. But Sophia was not alarmed as she went on up the hill.

  Suddenly, she was on a dusty, rutted street. The heat was almost unbearable. Gleaming white rocks made fences around some houses, while similar rocks were used for walks up to the doors of others. All porches had little kilns glowing with charcoal. There were no people or other living things, but she knew someone was waiting for her. Complete silence made a weird sound in her ears, like the bursting foam of a million soap bubbles.

  At last she saw Letha standing in a doorway. Immediately Sophia knew it was Letha who had been waiting. She felt a burst of warm friendship, a happiness such as she had never known. But suddenly Letha disappeared and a crowd of ugly children sprang through the door and captured Sophia. Sophia kicked and screamed. But they quickly overpowered her. Though she twisted and turned she could not get away. They dragged her screaming into the dark hot house.

  Darkness and heat bound Sophia as she struggled to come up to the light. Turning and twisting, she finally sprang up. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and she was wet with sweat.

  The sunlight streamed through her window. A bluejay was chattering at a mockingbird who was mimicking a cat. All of these familiar sounds assured her she was in her room, at home, safe. Still she lay shivering, even though her room was warm from the invasion of the early morning sun.

  What an awful dream! Why were so many things happening to upset her! Negroes had never been important in her life. They will not be now, she told herself.

  She bounded out of bed and moved about the room, drawing blinds to shut out the morning light. Already the heat drove her in for a cool shower.

  In the shower she realized it was a holiday and she had nothing planned. If only she hadn’t been so hasty. “… never want to see you again.” Maybe she should call Arnold and suggest they go horseback riding. Never. But if he called, maybe.

  As she dressed to go down for breakfast, the phone rang. Her heart raced wildly and she hurriedly threw on her robe so she would be ready to answer. She listened at the head of the stairs, hoping. Burt was talking to someone.

  Disappointed, she took her time dressing, then sauntered into the kitchen. With Ida away, it was every man for himself. Her father sat hidden behind the paper. His plate with the remnants of toast and bacon rinds had been pushed aside. He grunted a response to her “Good morning.”

  Half-eaten, too-brown, Swiss cheese toast, and three fourths of a cup of coffee indicated that Burt’s breakfast had been interrupted by the phone call. Sophia felt a tinge of anger as she stirred about making toast and hot chocolate. Ida should be here to get breakfast, she thought. Yet any other time, even if Ida was there, Sophia would fuss about the kitchen, anyway.

  But this morning she was upset. Only mother would give the help two days in a row. Grandma Sophie never would have. Gr
andma’s motto: Train a servant the way you want her to go, and hold a firm rein. That’s the way she would run her house, Sophia thought, as she rushed to retrieve her burning toast.

  She threw out the burnt toast, disgusted with herself. Finally, she asked, “Where’s Mother?”

  “She’s off to bathe in the hot springs today,” her father said, turning the pages of his paper.

  “Looks like I’ll have to work today,” Burt said, sliding in in front of his cheese toast and coffee. “Something’s cooking out there and I’m afraid it’s not kosher.”

  “The governor’s speaking to us tonight,” her father said.

  “I hope he says something worth listening to,” Sophia said.

  “The only thing I’m waiting to hear is that a restraining order has been issued on that gutless school board,” her father said.

  “Could a restraining order keep those Negroes out, Dad?” Sophia asked.

  “Judge Pomeroy can keep them out. If he wants to!”

  “I doubt if he wants to,” Burt said. “He takes his federal judgeship seriously.”

  “He can be had. We’ll see what the governor says.” Their father took the paper and left the kitchen.

  Sophia sat at the table wondering if her father was right. Could they really call a halt to the integration? She hoped so.

  “What are you up to today, Soph?” Burt asked.

  “I don’t know. I might go ride my horse. Grit is getting so lazy and spoiled.”

  “I’m going out toward the stables. If you’re ready in time, I’ll give you a ride. You need a lift?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be great.”

  “Oh,” Burt said, “What happened to your chauffeur?”

  “What chauffeur?”

  “Arnold,” he said and smiled.

  “Oh, please!” She felt the flush rising and jumped up from the table. She turned away trying to stop it. “Just don’t mention him to me today, okay?”

  The phone rang. Her heart stood still and her hands went cold. “Get that, Burt,” she said.

  “You get it. It’s for you, I know.”

  “Please, get it.”

  She sat trembling hoping it was, then hoping it was not Arnold. What could she say now if he called and asked her to do something after what she had just said. Would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself?

  “For you,” Burt called.

  She sat still.

  He came into the kitchen. “For you, Sophia.”

  “Who is it,” she whispered.

  “Some girl. Sounds like Marsha.”

  It was Marsha. “Hi, What’s up?” Sophia asked, feeling both annoyed and relieved. She was a classmate who suggested that Sophia join her and some more of their classmates at the skating rink around six-thirty. They would skate and talk on this last day of summer vacation.

  Sophia agreed. She needed to talk to someone to help her sort out things.

  Chapter 6

  Eva woke with a start. Her first thought was that she hadn’t been asleep at all. She was surprised that the sun was high, the room like an oven. Children were playing in the street, neighbors’ pots and pans were clattering. Breakfast was already finished and preparations were underway for the noonday meal. Suddenly Eva remembered last night.

  She jumped out of bed and rushed to the front of the house. The doors were closed, blinds still drawn, but her parents were not around. Her heart pounded. Where could they be?

  A loud knock on the front door alerted her. Her heart seemed to stand still. Then it beat as though it would come through her breast. She could not answer. Again the loud knock.

  “Yes,” Eva finally said.

  “It’s me, Eva.” Eva recognized the voice of Mr. Charles, her neighbor. “Your daddy asked me t’ keep a eye out. Everything’s all right. I’m right here.”

  “Did they go to the store?”

  “They been gone. But everybody on the block’s lookin’ out for y’.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Eva said through the closed door. She sighed. Why hadn’t her mother awakened her, she thought. Left her to sleep all that time. She was annoyed.

  It was almost ten o’clock and she hadn’t sewn a stitch. She must hurry if she was to finish her dress.

  Quickly she put on her clothes and swallowed a glass of fruit juice; it was too hot for food. She put up the sewing machine, wishing she could find a cool spot. But even outside, the sun had already invaded every bit of shade.

  After putting up the ironing board to press all the seams, she got busy threading the bobbin. As she watched the thread quickly fill the space, her mind was whirling fast from one thought to another. Tanya, hope she’s all right. Maybe Aunt Shirley’ll come by t’day. That Cecil! “… being white time.” She laughed. White gravy, ugh! Wonder what it’s gonna be like … with people I don’t know at all?

  Suddenly she realized that she had never eaten in the same place with white people in her life. Not in a cafe, at a soda fountain, in a home, at school … no place.

  She remembered the times she used to go into the drugstore downtown with her Grandma Collins for medicine. How many times she had seen people sitting with tall glasses of ice cream sodas, or frosty Cokes and dishes of sundaes. Her mouth would water.

  “Grandma, let’s git one of them in a tall glass,” she said one day.

  “You don’t want that old ice cream,” her grandmother said. “That stuff’s not nearly as good as what we’ll make when we git home.”

  Now Eva threaded the machine, thinking how long it had taken her to learn what her grandmother didn’t have the heart to tell her: that she could not have ice cream at that counter simply because she was Negro.

  As she pressed open the stitched seams, she was thankful she did not have to wait for irons to heat like some people who still did not have electricity. Takes too long. And it’s too hot. Her mind again flashed to her grandmother. What would she think if she were alive?—her granddaughter going to Chatman and her son sitting behind the door with a great big shotgun.

  Eva could see her grandmother now as she used to look coming down the dusty road from working in people’s houses. Eva would rush to meet her and take the day-old newspaper and other packages her grandmother often brought: dresses, not new, but still good, and special goodies—lady fingers, chocolate cherries, and sometimes ham and cheese. Often, while Grandma Collins rested, Eva would read aloud to her the day-old news.

  Maybe her grandmother would not be scared. Then she remembered the first time she had seen Grandma Collins break down and cry. Her grandmother was worried because her youngest son, Eva’s Uncle Joe, had been put in jail, accused of stealing a diamond ring from a hotel room in which he had never been. Could someone accuse her like that at Chatman? She felt prickly with fear.

  Then Eva heard laughter and footsteps. She looked up and her Aunt Shirley and Tanya were at the door. Eva screamed with delight. “Oh, Aunt Shirley, you won’t believe it, but I was just thinking ’bout you and Grandma Collins.” She hugged Tanya. “And I was hoping you’d come home t’day.”

  “You act like y’been ’way from each other a year, and it’s been no mo’en a day. What y’ thinkin’ ’bout me and y’ grandma?”

  “Oh, just hoping you’d come by; and wondering what Grandma would think of my going to Chatman.”

  “She’d probably be proud and scared. But she was one lady who stood up for what she b’lieved. Took no tea for the fever … wore no crepe for the dead. Really had a mind of her own.”

  “Grandma was a lotta fun, you know. Remember how she used to like to dance? She thought dancing released all the demons and left the body free and relaxed. She knew something about almost everything. Wish she was here t’ tell me what t’ do now.”

  Her Aunt Shirley said, “Now, I know she’d tell y’ this: ‘Don’t you go there, now, lettin’ ’em sand y’ down, and come back here not knowin’ whether y’ fish or fowl. Y’ won’t feel good with y’ own people, and the other sho’
won’t feel good with you. You’ll have no place, then.’ That’s what she’d tell y’, Eva, and I hope you’ll remember that.”

  “My goodness, I’m getting that message from all sides. All I’m doing is going to school. You’d think I’d decided to pass for white.” Her voice broke and she was surprised that she was so upset.

  Eva looked at Tanya who was standing wide-eyed, listening. “Tanya, go out and play.”

  “Too hot out there.”

  “It’s hot in here, too. Go on.” Then she softened. “And when y’ come back we’ll make some lemonade.” She put her hands on Tanya’s shoulders and steered her toward the door. At the door she bent and whispered, “I promise, you can put as much sugar as y’ like, okay?”

  Tanya grinned and went outside.

  “Oh, Aunt Shirley, if things keep up the way they’re going, I’ll be a nervous wreck before t’morrow.”

  “You’d better calm down, girl.”

  “It’s too much. You should’ve seen Daddy last night sitting there with that shotgun. Talk of bombin’s. All because of us going to Chatman. What’s wrong with people? I’m trying so hard not to be scared.”

  “It’s hard not t’ be. Remember when y’ first went t’ Carver? Y’ musta been scared then, eh?”

  “Yeah, but this is different.”

  “Whole lot. But everything we do that’s a little different help us t’ git ready for things that’s a lotta difference. Ain’t no harm in bein’ scared o’ somethin’ y’ don’t know ’bout. But just make up y mind y’ gonna go and do the best y’ can.”

  “I … just wanta learn.…”

  “Oh, but y’ gonna do some teachin’, too. They can learn as much from you as y’ can learn from them. Otherwise, what’s the point o’ this integration?”

  Eva picked up the bodice of her dress and sat at the sewing machine. The silence between her and her aunt was somehow sobering. She sighed. “And to think, after I’d first made up my mind, I was so happy and excited.”

  “It ain’t that bad, now. Go on, stitch y’ dress and I’ll help y’ fit it,” her aunt said with enthusiasm.