Between Madison and Palmetto (7 page)

“It was good,” Maizon said.

“Some strong storytelling,” Cooper said.

The movie had been about five generations of a black family living on an island off the coast of South Carolina. Images of their beautiful clothes and the different ways the women wore their hair zigzagged through Maizon's head now.

“Really good,” she said again.

“Want to stop for a milkshake or something?”

Maizon yawned. “I'm kind of tired. Plus, I got school tomorrow and the play.” She couldn't help noticing how Cooper's face fell when she said this. In the past few weeks he had been trying really hard to get close to her. But what if they got close and he turned around and left again?

“Guess you're right,” Cooper said. “Guess I'll start job-hunting tomorrow. Look around for a place to live.

Maizon's stomach jumped. “Where?”

Cooper laughed. “Where will I look for a job or where will I live?”

Maizon looked at him and felt a sense of pride rush through her. Hattie was right. He was handsome. “Both.”

“I'm going to try to get a job over at Baldwin. Got this teaching degree under my belt. Figure that'd be a nice place to work.”

“My friend Bo goes there. He says it helps his self-esteem.”

Cooper nodded. “That's why it's there. It's a different kind of school, you know.”

“Bo says being a black man in the world is harder than anything else. But how does he know? He's just a teenager. And what about black girls?”

Cooper bit his bottom lip. “You start learning early how the world hates you. Somehow I think it's harder for men. I might be wrong, though. But black men aren't just hated, people are afraid of them too. I think that starts making them feel like they're monsters.”

“But those boys are all segregated over there.”

“A lot of people believe that's what they need right now—support right from the start. Later on, when they go out into the world, they'll feel good about themselves. They'll feel strong.”

“How come they don't feel good now?” Maizon shook her head. “I don't get it.”

“It's this,” Cooper said slowly. “So many times when you open up a newspaper or turn on the television, you see a black man having committed a crime or something else negative. You start associating those images with all black men....”

“That's sometimes how I feel about white people—every time I see a commercial or television show and there aren't any blacks around. Or when I look at a magazine and all the models are white, I start thinking that they make me feel like I'm the ugly one. Then I start hating all of them.”

“No hate is justified,” Cooper said. His voice wasn't angry, but there was a sternness to it that Maizon wasn't sure she appreciated. “But it's what the world does to people. It makes some of us feel ugly and it makes some of us look like criminals, like angry fools. It seems this country picked black men to do the last part to. That's why Baldwin is so important. I wish there was a school like Baldwin Prep for black girls. Maybe it'll happen.” Cooper was silent for a moment. When he started speaking again, his voice was softer, wistful. “I wish there had been a school like Baldwin when
I
was growing up. Maybe I wouldn't have run off and left you, afraid of all the responsibility I thought lay ahead of me.” He sighed. “Some things you don't know.”

Maizon listened. After a moment she realized she was barely breathing. She had gotten caught up in Cooper's speech and couldn't help but feel how angry he was beneath his words. It was a little bit scary, but she wasn't afraid. The anger seemed to make him bigger. It made her feel good, protected, like there was someone strong in the world, looking out for her. She smiled and squeezed Cooper's hand.

“This Bo guy. Is he your boyfriend?”

Maizon felt the heat rise to her face. “No. My friend. I don't have a boyfriend.”

“Why not?” Cooper teased.

“‘Cause I don't want one,” Maizon said. “Got better things to think about.”

“Like what?”

“Like my play tomorrow. Are you still going to come?”

Cooper nodded. “That's if you want me to.” After a moment he said, “You know that was one of your mama's dreams—to be a writer.”

Maizon swallowed. Her mama. “What were some of her other dreams?” she whispered. She wanted to know everything about her mama. Grandma had told her everything she knew. Now it was Cooper's turn.

Cooper slowed down. The rain had faded into a cold mist against their faces. Every now and then a car, its lights bright, moved slowly down the street. Otherwise, the neighborhood was quiet.

“She was beautiful,” Cooper said, his voice catching. “Every time I remember her, I remember how beautiful she was. You know”—he looked down at Maizon—“when you first walked in that day I got to your grandma‘s, I thought I was gonna drop into a dead faint the way you looked so like her.”

“Grandma says I do too.”

“You and your grandma pretty close, huh?”

Maizon nodded. She couldn't remember a time when Grandma wasn't in her thoughts. If someone had asked who you loved most in your whole life, it wouldn't take her a second to answer.

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “I can see that. It's nice.”

“Why'd you leave?” Maizon asked suddenly. “Why didn't you stay at Grandma's?”

Cooper shook his head slowly. “I couldn‘t,” he said. “I was young. I was scared. I had just lost the person I loved most in the world. When I felt that helpless bundle in my arms, I knew I wasn't strong enough to give you what you would need to survive. Your grandma was the only woman that could do that.”

“What about your parents?”

“My mother died when I was seventeen. Breast cancer. I never knew my dad.”

They walked along without speaking for a few minutes.

“You should've kept in touch,” Maizon said.

Cooper stopped. Turning to her, he said, “I should've done a lot of things differently. I'm not perfect. This is me, Cooper Devalle Thompson, starting from scratch.”

Maizon nodded. “I always wanted a daddy when I was younger. I used to cry for you. I don't cry for you anymore. I outgrew that.”

“I'm not asking you to cry for me, Maizon. Just to give me a chance.”

“Later on, when I got older, I used to say if you came back, I'd treat you like you never lived,” Maizon said.

“Is that what you want to do, now that you know me?”

Maizon thought for a moment. “No,” she said. It wasn't what she wanted at all.

14

S
it here, Grandma,“ Maizon said, guiding Grandma to a seat beside Ms. Dell's. The auditorium was filling quickly.

“Hi, Grandma,” Margaret said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hi, Margaret. You ever plan to visit this old lady again?”

Margaret smiled. “Have to check my datebook.” She put her arm around Grandma. “See if I have time in the next two years.”

Grandma laughed.

“Hail, hail, the gang's all here,” Maizon sang, surveying the row. Hattie was sitting between Ms. Dell and Mrs. Tory, who had Li‘l Jay in her lap. Bo sat beside Mrs. Tory, looking uncomfortable in his navy-blue suit. Maizon winked at him and he waved.

“Where's Cooper?” Margaret asked.

Maizon shrugged, pretending not to care, but more than once Margaret caught her checking over her shoulder to where two teachers were collecting money at the door. Tonight's performances were a fund-raiser for the school.

Caroline walked up the aisle and almost strolled right past their row. Maizon grabbed her dress tail and pulled her back.

“Hey, guys!” Caroline smiled.

“Hey yourself!” Maizon gestured down the row. “You know everybody, right? The Madison Street contingent.”

Caroline nodded and waved to the group. “I'm psyched,” she said. “Think we should go in the bathroom and go over everything one more time?”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “I'm sick of that monologue. I've heard it a hundred times.”

“Yeah,” Maizon agreed. “I'm pretty rehearsed out myself.”

“Want to go in the bathroom and gossip then?”

“Okay,” Margaret and Maizon said at once, jumping up from their seats.

“Who's that cute guy at the end of the row?” Caroline asked, the minute the bathroom door was closed.

Margaret giggled, then began checking under the stall doors to make sure they were empty.

“I don't know,” she said casually. “Just a guy I've kissed a couple of times.”

“Wait a second,” Maizon said, eyeing Margaret suspiciously. “I heard about one kiss that took place about a year ago.”

“Oh,” Margaret said, too casually. “Guess I forgot to mention the other ones.”

Caroline shrieked. “He's fine!”

“He's okay,” Maizon said, curling her lip. “Just Bo.”

“Are you guys seeing each other?” Caroline asked.

Margaret shook her head. “Not really. We just hang sometimes.”

“And kiss,” Maizon added. “Don't forget.”

Margaret put her arm around Maizon's shoulders. “And kiss.”

Maizon frowned. “Man, I can't believe it. Where was I when all this making out was happening?”

Margaret shrugged. “Somewhere between Madison and Palmetto, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Maizon said. “I guess I was!”

“You and me, Maizon,” Caroline said. “Old maids-to-be.”

“Boys are still way corny to me,” Maizon confided.

Margaret brushed past her, checking her hair in the mirror. “That's ‘cause you haven't kissed one.”

“That's ‘cause I don't want to.” Maizon moved in front of her. She stared at their reflections in the mirror. Caroline peered over Margaret's shoulder. “Look at us,” Maizon said.

“Where did we come from?” Caroline laughed. “And how the heck did we end up together here?”

On their way out of the bathroom they bumped into Hattie.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Margaret asked. “It's almost time for the performances.”

“Touch up my makeup. The wind just blew a pretty handsome breeze our way.” She turned and pointed.

At the end of the aisle Cooper stood, searching the auditorium. Maizon smiled. “See that guy over there, Caroline?” she said. Caroline nodded. “That's my dad.”

15

H
ey, Maizon,“ Margaret called, catching up to Maizon two weeks later.

“Hey, Margaret,” Maizon said. “Where you coming from?”

“Bo and I went to see a movie and got a slice of pizza on Myrtle Avenue.”

Maizon put her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Oh. You gonna puke it up?”

“I'm not doing that anymore,” Margaret said. Maizon seemed distant somehow. Her eyes were blank like they were looking at something they had no interest in, even when they looked at Margaret.

“I can't be your friend if you do that, Margaret.”

“
I
can't be my friend,” Margaret said. She took Maizon's hand. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Margaret shrugged. “Just for being there, I guess.”

“But we haven't seen each other in two weeks.” Aside from in school, they had seen little of each other after the play.

“Doesn't matter,” Margaret said.

“Yeah.” Maizon held tight to Margaret's hand.

In the past few weeks the temperature had climbed consistently. Now, tiny green buds were sprouting on the tree that stood right in the center of the block, an equal distance between Margaret's house and Maizon's. Today it must have been close to fifty degrees.

Maizon sighed. “Today reminds me of Blue Hill.” She stopped in front of the tree and smiled. “Remember we used to called this our ‘compromise spot'?”

Margaret looked up at the tree and smiled, a million feelings shooting through her at once. She was thinking about her father—this time two years ago he was still alive; she was thinking about Maizon and Cooper and Bo and this tree and spring creeping up on them. She was wearing her winter coat, a heavy black wool coat her mother had bought on sale somewhere. Now she pulled her arms out and draped it over her shoulders. Maizon sat down, her back against the tree, and Margaret slid down beside her.

“Seems like such a long time ago.” Maizon's voice was wistful.

“Everything seems like a long time ago. How's Cooper?”

Maizon squinted and looked up at the tree. Strips of sun streamed through its branches. She inhaled. “Okay. We've sort of been becoming friends, I guess.” She smiled.

Maizon's smile was contagious. Margaret wanted to hug her. It seemed like it had been forever since they were last together.

“I kind of like him,” Maizon confided. “I mean, he's okay, for a dad. Isn't that strange?”

“What's so strange?”

Maizon shrugged. “I don't know. It's just that all my life I never really knew him, then one day he pops back into my life and it's like he was there all the time.”

Margaret swallowed. “You're lucky, Maizon.”

Maizon grabbed her hand. “I know. C‘mon,” she said, pulling Margaret up.

“C‘mon where?”

“I don't know. Let's just go somewhere. Do something. Let's just spend the rest of this day together, the way we used to do.”

“No Cooper? No Caroline?” Margaret raised an eyebrow.

“No Cooper. No Caroline,” Maizon said. “Just you and I for old times. Hey!” Maizon stopped. “How are you feeling?”