Celeste's Harlem Renaissance (4 page)

“What about me?” I whispered, hoping against hope.

“I told you already,” Aunt Society said, fidgeting about in her wheelchair.

“Work for the Hugelburgers —”

“Just be quiet like Taylor told you,” she said over me. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Society, you’re thinking and talking crazy again,” Poppa said. “You’re not going to get hired out nowhere, Cece. I telegrammed your message to Aunt Valentina and got an answer back.”

Aunt Society dropped her fork. “You contacted that woman about our situation without asking me?”

“Oh, thank you, Poppa! When’s she coming?” I sat up in my chair and swallowed the beans.

Poppa laid his thin hand on mine. “She wants you to live with her in New York till I’m better. She can’t just pick up and leave.”

I never thought Aunt Valentina would suggest that I go to New York. “But I want to stay here, closer to you and my friends.”

Aunt Society folded her arms, nodding and frowning. “You get what you wish for, see? Always bragging on that woman with her sinful ways.”

“Society, Valentina has a name.” Poppa sighed. “Honey, look at it this way. New York’s a wonderful city, with libraries, music, musicians, museums, beautiful clothes, great food, everything. That’s why you wrote to her, wasn’t it? To be with her?” He stood up unsteadily. “Now, before I forget, be sure tomorrow to let Mr. Hodges look you over.”

Aunt Society poked me in my arm. “You think you’ll lie around eating chocolate bonbons and having maid service up there with her, but you won’t. She’ll make you work in a factory twenty hours a day and take every penny you earn. She’ll have you sleeping on the floor and wearing the same dress for weeks. So start packing, Sister Sassy. Send your soul right on to Jesus because the rest of you is going to New York.”

“At least she likes me,” I whispered. “Even if I am a girl.”

“What?” Her voice got high. “See, Taylor!”

Right then Poppa had a coughing spell so severe we shut up to help him lie down on the couch. I ran to get his Cheney’s medicine. Aunt Society rushed to get a blanket to cover him. Aunt Society and I didn’t say another word to each other after that. We just sat in our chairs on each side of Poppa, and watched him.

Later, I rolled from one side of my bed to the other until I knocked Momma’s folded-up quilt to the floor. True, I had always wanted to go to New York someday — but not right then! Maybe I could just run away to Durham, Method, or Knightdale, those little towns outside Raleigh. I didn’t know where else to go. And then what? Get lost and raggedy, eating out of pig troughs, drinking milk straight from the cow, sleeping in tobacco barns, and picking flies and fleas out of my lardy hair. Sounded like how things would be for me at the Hugelburgers.

At the drugstore Saturday I opened my mouth wide so Mr. Hodges could peer down my throat. Then he asked if I had pain in my lungs or stomach and did I cough very much. I shook my head. “All right, you can close your mouth. You look fine. No need for you to be examined by a doctor. I just gave you an eyeball checkup.”

“Praise God,” said Poppa, who’d been watching. He returned to filling bottles behind the counter.

“Is Poppa going to be all right?” I whispered to Mr. Hodges.

“I think so, if he can get fresh fruits and vegetables, rest, nursing care, and quiet,” he muttered, making notes on a sheet of paper.

“I could go work at Coopers and be with Poppa. I’d learn more than slaving away on a tobacco farm with the Hugelburgers.”

“Well, that’s sweet, Cece, but you’re too young to work in a sanitarium, or for the Hugelburgers, either. New York’s much better.”

That night, after we’d all retired, I slipped out of my bed and went to Poppa’s. We talked about school and work and my aunts. “Does anybody know when I have to leave? Will I have to be on a train by myself? Will I have to leave before Easter?”

“Mr. Smithfield’s working on finding free tickets for you so he can be with you all the way during his run. I figure you’ll leave as soon as he gets the tickets.” Poppa coughed softly. “Start laying out things now to take. Use my valise, the brown one. Sorry to say, you’ll probably go before Easter. But you’re too old for Easter baskets, anyway.”

“I like more than only that. I like how we ate breakfast at church after sunrise services, and everybody wore their best clothes, our Sunday school program, and how Momma always looked —” I stopped. The last two Easters hadn’t been the same without her. “Poppa, would Momma have wanted me to go to Aunt Valentina’s?”

“I wondered if you’d ask. Under the circumstances, yes, she’d approve.” He squeezed my arm. “Give me a smile, girlio, before you go back to bed. Your smile and your pretty hazel eyes are just like hers. Knowing you’re in good hands and remembering your smile will help me get better quicker than anything else.”

In the dim lamplight of my room I set out my most precious clothes and possessions to take: my yellow dress with the lace around the neck and wrists; the red velvet dress with the white buttons down the front; my Sunday silk stockings; the family picture of Poppa, Momma, and me; my Bible; and of course my schoolbag, violin, hairbrush, and comb.

Aunt Valentina had always been nice to me. Surely she wouldn’t change now. Would she?

I kept trying to get up my courage and tell Angel Mae, Swan, and Evalina my sad news, but I couldn’t. When we got to school that Monday, I told Mrs. Bracy that I’d be leaving, and she announced it to the rest of my class. At her words, Angel Mae shook her head, Swan gasped, and Evalina frowned up something terrible. I heard Leon say, “Goin’ to the Big Apple! Cece’s gonna be a flapper!” But nobody laughed. At first I felt special being singled out like that, then I got sad. These were my friends that I’d have to leave behind! For how long?

While she had the other kids working on arithmetic, Mrs. Bracy took me aside. “I’m going to miss you. You’re such a good student.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” I whispered, trying not to cry.

She reached into her desk and pulled out a pretty writing tablet. Each page was trimmed with a thin border of delicate yellow and red flowers and fairies. Two sharpened pencils set in a small pocket attached to the tablet. “Write to us once in a while. New York is a fast, noisy city, Cece. Learn to speak up for yourself and don’t be timid.”

She hugged me, and I hugged her back. When we separated, I saw that her face was wet. I thanked her again and stuck the tablet into my schoolbag for safekeeping.

I found my friends in a corner of the school yard, talking about me. “You can go to the
Brownies’ Book
office right away and find out about our poems and stuff,” Swan said. “If they send you a letter here, your aunt might throw it away, or lose it. You shouldn’t have any problem finding the office, ’cause I bet it’s in a building the size of the Statue of Liberty.”

I nodded, but how would I find their office in big ole New York? I’d read about New York’s subway, but I didn’t know how a subway worked. Did New York have a trolley service like ours here? Our trolley only ran on certain streets, and we Coloreds sat in the back. Would I be able to find a seat anywhere, or would I have to stand until an empty one in our section was available?

“Speaking of us Butterflies, it won’t be the same without you,” Angel Mae said, “since you and your momma really started it.”

“But Mrs. Bracy’s been keeping it going at school okay. She had a hand in getting it started in the first place,” I reminded her. “Her and Momma. Maybe she’ll have special meetings for you after school’s out.”

“But it hasn’t been the same without just us girls reading the
Brownies’ Book
magazine together, and having our little tea parties, and going to the movies, stuff like that. At school we just meet and talk about writing and have to put up with Leon and those other boys.”

“I don’t mind that,” Evalina broke in. “Leon’s cute.”

“Cece, promise you’ll write just one letter to all three of us,” said Swan, “so we won’t miss out on anything. You know Evalina’ll hog her letter and not share it. And write and tell us what it’s like to live in a mansion and go to the zoos.”

“All right, but you each write back to me, please, ’cause I’m gonna be lonely.”

“What if you had to take one of those airplane things, instead of a train?” asked Angel Mae.

“I’d have heart palpitations on an airplane,” I said, and shivered.

“You’ll have heart palpitations on the train,” Evalina broke in, “being as you’ve never been on one before.”

“Hush up, Evie!” Angel Mae swung her arms around me. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Miss Mouse!” she cried. Swan and Evalina hugged me, too. When we pulled apart, we wiped our faces on our coat sleeves.

“Aunt Society said manholes in New York don’t have covers,” I said, and sniffled, “so children fall into them, never to be seen again.”

“If that was true, Mrs. Bracy or some other teacher would have told us when we studied New York in geography,” Evalina retorted. That made us laugh.

“You’ll be back by fall, ’cause you said your father’ll be better by then, so maybe it won’t be too bad.” Swan tried to reassure me. “In the meantime, you’ll be in the Colored people’s capital. You can do anything there — write, play Dede, read every book in the world, and live high on the hog with your aunt. She’s a famous actress and singer, ain’t she?”

“Well, that’s what Poppa and Mr. Smithfield said just a few days ago, and I know she wears fine clothes when she’s here,” I said, like I was reminding myself. “At least she did all that when she was here for Christmas the other year. I really don’t know how famous she is.”

“If you live in Harlem and sing and dance and live in a mansion, you ought to be famous,” Angel Mae said. “Let’s say our old Butterflies pledge, the one we did when it was only us girls meeting here at your place.”

“All right, Butterflies, let’s spread our wings,” I ordered. We gathered in a circle, hands touching one another’s shoulders. “We pledge to be beautiful and pure in spirit, thought, word, and deed,” we said together. We lifted and lowered our arms like we were fluttering our wings. “Moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, decade by decade, score by score. This is our solemn promise one and all.”

I tried to think about how I should be excited, going to the Big Apple. I didn’t feel excited. Just scared.

When I reached home, I saw Momma’s sweetgrass basket sitting on the sideboard in the parlor. Aunt Society was in her wheelchair, her head bent over a bundle of white muslin, sewing furiously. She wore her red-and-white-checkered apron dress. Poppa stood with his valise in his hands, biting his lip.

I grew cold inside. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Smithfield found tickets,” Poppa said. He tried to smile at me. “You have to leave this afternoon. It’s time.”

He pointed to the basket. “Mrs. Smithfield fixed your food. Check your valise to make sure your aunt’s packed what you want. We’ll try and send more later.”

Leaving now? I hadn’t even said good-bye to everybody! Numb, I opened the valise. I found our family picture and my Bible. Most of the clothes I’d set out were missing. That ole bat had packed heavy, long woolen stockings and underwear, and heavy sweaters. Was New York chilly all year? I wore my only pair of shoes. When I glanced around at Aunt Society, she dropped her eyes and wouldn’t look back. She wanted me to look as dull as she looked when she stood by Aunt Valentina.

In the kitchen I wrapped echinacea leaves, sassafras bark, goldenseal root powder, and other herbs in scraps of brown paper. I didn’t know what kind of medicine Aunt Valentina might have, so I figured I should be prepared. I hardly ever got sick, but I sure didn’t want to in New York. I carried the herbs back to the parlor and tucked them in my schoolbag.

New York! This couldn’t be real! My heart pounded with excitement and fear.

Just then I heard Mr. Bivens’s bell outside. “Come along, Celeste.” Aunt Society finally spoke. “Don’t make Mr. Bivens wait.”

Wringing my hands, I rushed into my room. I pulled my journal from under my mattress — where it had been safe from the ole bat’s nose — picked up my one precious
Brownies’ Book
magazine, and hid my journal in it. I strapped my only belt around my violin case so I could carry it more easily. My China-head doll? My parasol? The embroidered picture of the fishermen? All too big for the valise. Momma’s shawl? No, Poppa might need it. Handkerchiefs! My dresses!

“Celeste!”

“Good-bye, room,” I whispered. I carried my things into the front room and packed everything into the valise except for my violin. My heart twisted when I looked at Poppa. He rested his hand on my shoulder, then picked up the valise.

“Say good-bye to your aunt,” he said. I dragged myself over to her and kissed her stiffly on her wrinkled cheek.

“God be with you till we meet again,” she said. Her nose was unusually red. “You behave, stay out of the hot sun, and don’t take on any of — her — sinful ways.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. When she dabbed at her eyes, my tears spilled out. I’d even miss her, I realized. She followed us out to the wagon, and handed Mr. Bivens my lunch basket. Poppa and I climbed into the wagon. When Mr. Bivens clucked, ole Lissa slowly drove us away. I looked around and waved at my aunt. She waved once, then returned to the porch.

I had a million things to say to Poppa, but I couldn’t put anything into words. We silently leaned against each other until I saw the train station come into sight. “You’ll be all right with Aunt Valentina,” Poppa said. Then he burst out, “I wish she could have come down here, but she couldn’t. I don’t like you being so far off, but it can’t be helped.”

I lowered my head. Tears fell onto my clenched hands. He dropped an envelope on top of them. “Here. Stamps, some penny postcards. Write to me, your girlfriends, and your aunt. Be careful, girlio.”

“Oh, Poppa, I’m scared. Don’t make me go!” I fell over onto his shoulder. He rubbed and patted my back, but the wagon kept moving.

“It’s just a test, girlio. All life’s a test and you got to pass it, just like how you wrote in your poem ‘Forsythia,’ remember?”