Coffee Will Make You Black (8 page)

“Long enough. I think they're fixing to get off. I heard Mama thanking Mrs. Cunningham and saying she was sure she wouldn't be having any more problems with you. Jean, you better hurry up and put a couple pair of pants on. I think I just heard her put the phone down!”

I could hear Mama's loud footsteps coming toward my room. She was still wearing her bank shoes. I looked at David; we both knew it was curtains now. The TV was blasting in the living room. Kevin was watching the Mickey Mouse Club. I would've given anything to be a Mouseketeer right now. Why couldn't I be Annette Funicello, instead of Jean Stevenson?

Mama stood in the doorway with her arms folded, looking mad. She hadn't changed out of her navy skirt and white blouse.

“I talked to your teacher and she told me everything! I'm not going to have it, Jean Eloise! I'm not going to put up with it!”

David picked up my yo-yo off the chair and started playing with it.

“David, put that stupid yo-yo down and go pick me a switch! And, boy, you better bring me something I can work with, cause I'm gonna tear her legs up!” David ran out.

“How could you be so low? How could you be so low? Reading out of some slut's diary!” Mama shouted.

I sat on my bed, frozen. Mama's eyes looked like they were on fire. I was scared. I knew David would be back with a switch soon.

“I told you that Jezebel would be your downfall. Mrs. Cunningham said Carla Perkins and her gang were behind everything! To think you could've been in the chorus, singing at the Children's Hospital, knowing your father worked there. Jean, how could you cheat your poor, hard-working father out of being able to point and say, ‘That's my daughter'?” Mama walked toward me and shouted, “How could you've been so selfish? I feel like knocking you down! I'm so mad I don't know what to do!” I moved back against the wall to get further away from Mama, but I knew there was no escape.

“Why would you want to let somebody like Carla have an opportunity you should've had? And then to read that filth, when you knew you had no business there in the first place.” Mama continued, “Jean Eloise, I've tried to show you right from wrong. I don't know what is going to become of you. I'm just going to have to beat the devil out of you! I don't know what else I can do!” Mama said, pointing her finger at me.

David came back in the room carrying a switch. Kevin was with him. They looked like they felt sorry for me. I felt sorry for me, too. But I knew begging or crying wouldn't help. Mama had made up her mind to whip me. She snatched the switch from David's hand.

“Get over here, Jean! You boys get out of here. This is between me and your sister. Go back and watch TV.”

“No!” I said, moving back toward the wall.

“Don't you tell me no!” Mama reached across the bed and dragged me by the arm and stood me up. She started hitting me with the switch. My legs felt like they were on fire, the switch was stinging me so much. I couldn't stand up anymore and fell to the floor. Mama was hitting my behind now and shouting, “Jean Eloise, you brought this all on yourself! You brought this all on yourself!”

I hadn't cried yet, although I had wanted to. I knew my brothers were listening for me to cry. We all knew that Mama never stopped whipping you until you cried. Besides, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

I finally screamed and the tears came out like a flood.

“This is for telling that lie about me having the flu.” Mama hit me again. I just broke down and busted out sobbing with my face against the bare wood floor. The crying seemed like it was coming from way deep in my stomach. I felt as if once I started I'd never be able to stop.

“Now you want to act like somebody's beating you half to death! Well, if you don't shut up, I'm going to really give you something to cry about. I thought you'd had enough.”

I was still lying on the floor, with Mama standing over me. I tried to force myself to stop crying. I knew it only made Mama madder. She wanted me to cry just enough to show that she had hurt me, but not so much that it would seem like she was cruel.

“Those tears aren't going to sway me one bit. Don't even think of going to Carla's party, now. Don't let the thought even cross your mind!”

I got up off the floor and sat on my bed. The room looked different. It was like going outside after a movie.

I wiped my eyes, my dress was all wet in the front from my tears. Somehow, Mama saying that I couldn't go to Carla's party made me mad. I had taken my whipping; that should be enough. In fact, I felt mad enough to spit.

“You just want me to end up like you, without any friends!” I yelled as Mama walked out of my room.

Mama ran back into the room carrying the switch. She stood over me.

“How dare you have the nerve to talk back to me after I just finished whipping you! Do you want me to tear your behind up again?”

I looked at her as evilly as I could.

“You should see how ugly you look,” Mama said, frowning.

I kept right on looking ugly. I was mad.

Mama folded her arms, still holding the switch. “You couldn't pay me to say such a thing to my mother. One of the Ten Commandments says, ‘Honor thy mother and father and thy days will be long.' That's the only commandment with a promise.”

Mama looked down at me to see if she'd gotten to me. She hadn't. I wasn't in an honoring mood. I was still mad.

Mama sat down in the chair across from me. She reached over and set the switch on top of the dresser.

“I don't see how you could say that I don't have any friends,” she continued. “I've got plenty of friends. I do unto others as I would have them do unto me. I love my neighbor as myself. I was the first colored teller at the bank to be voted teller of the month. So I don't see how you could even make your mouth say that I don't have any friends.”

“How come nobody ever calls or comes over to visit you except Grandma and Aunt Sheila?” I blurted out.

I knew that I was skating on thin ice, but at this point what did I have to lose?

Mama stood up, but instead of picking up the switch, she pointed her finger at me.

“I've never been one to sit on the phone all day or to run in and out of people's houses or have them running in and out of mine. Besides, I don't need a lot of friends. I have a family to take care of. That's one reason I wanted a daughter. A son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all of her life,” Mama recited.

I still didn't want to end up like Mama, I thought.

Mama sat back down in the chair. I could tell she was about to make one of her “Jean Eloise speeches.” She had whipped me, she wasn't letting me go to Carla's party, and now I had to listen to one of her sermons. Why couldn't she just leave me alone?

“Jean Eloise, I don't want you to be just like me.”

Good, I thought, at least we agree on something.

“You think I don't remember how it was to be young? Thirty-five is not as far away from twelve and a half as you might think. There were parties I would've given anything to have been invited to and Valentine cards that I wanted to get. I know what it feels like to want to fit in, to want to be popular. You never stop wanting people to like you, no matter how old you get.”

“Mama, the reason I wanted Carla to have my spot in the chorus was because I saw how bad she wanted to be in it and I knew she was a better singer than me.”

“A better singer than I,” Mama cut in.

“Anyway, I knew that no matter how much Carla wanted to be in the chorus and no matter how good a singer she was, Mrs. Cunningham wasn't going to pick her, just because she didn't like her. Remember when my poem was published in the school newspaper that time?”

“Of course, you know I kept it and sent copies to everybody I knew. It's still on the refrigerator.”

“Well, what if they hadn't published my poem because they didn't like me, even though it was a good poem?”

“Well, that wouldn't have been fair.”

“That's what I mean. I didn't think it was fair to Carla. I know how it feels to be on the honor roll, to have my poem published in the school newspaper, and to be picked to be in the chorus. But, Mama, I never knew how it felt to be part of a crowd before, to be popular. I thought for somebody like Carla being part of a crowd, being popular, was everything. I didn't know that something was missing for her, until I saw how much she wanted to be in that chorus. I wanted to see her get what she wanted. It's like with Christmas presents, Mama, every year you say it's better to give than receive. I wanted to give something to Carla.”

Mama stood up and started hanging up the clothes that were on the back of the chair.

“Well, I suppose we should be glad that a girl like Carla wants to be a part of something worthwhile,” Mama said from the closet. “Jean, pick up those papers off the floor, why do you think I got you a desk?”

“Mama, in a way we're all like Carla.” I stooped down and picked up a pile of school papers.

“What do you mean?”

I sat back on my bed. “Remember last year when Terri called me on my birthday and told me she'd gotten to be friends with this white girl named Mary Beth, who wasn't allowed to play with negroes? Her family was one of the last white people left on the block and they were still trying to sell their house?”

Mama leaned against the closet door. “Yes, I remember that.”

“And as soon as they see Mary Beth's father's car drive up, Terri's gotta cut through the bushes and hide.”

Mama nodded.

“Well, Mary Beth's parents won't give Terri a chance, just because she's colored. I don't think it's fair not to give people a chance, do you, Mama?”

Mama didn't say anything. She was just staring into space.

I stood up. “Mama,” I said walking toward her.

Mama looked around the room. “I hope you're not going to wait until the last minute to look for something to wear to the party.”

“What party?” I asked, confused.

“How many parties are you invited to tomorrow? Have you suddenly become
that
popular?”

I couldn't believe my ears, but I was afraid to say anything.

Mama folded her arms, “Look, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not, but I'm going to go ahead and let you go to Carla's party, Stevie.”

Mama had said I could go to Carla's party, and she had called me Stevie! Mama had never called me Stevie before. I wasn't mad anymore. All of a sudden I wished Mama had a party to go to.

chapter 7

So this is what it's like to be at Carla's party, I thought, glancing around the basement filled with girls in party dresses and boys in dress shirts and pants. Nobody really looked happy, they just looked cool. Maybe we were having fun and I was just too square to realize it. The boys stood around the food table gulping punch and stuffing themselves with potato chips and hot dogs. I overheard them say, “Man, this” and “Man, that” between bites. The girls were all bunched up on the other side of the room.

I sat next to Patrice and Tanya drinking Hawaiian punch, balancing a paper plate with a half-eaten hot dog and some potato chips on my lap. Carla was standing nearby talking to Joyce and Bernice. Melody and Linda were playing with Carla's little niece and nephew, Malcolm and Lakisha.

“Look, that's her second hot dog,” Patrice said.

“Who?” I asked.

“Her,” Tanya said pointing to Joyce, a chubby, light-skinned girl. “If Carla had known she was gonna make a pig out of herself she wouldn't have invited her,” she added.

“Look, a lot of boys are on their second hot dogs,” I pointed out.

Patrice shook her head and sighed. “Stevie, boys are different. They can eat as much as they want and people will think it's cute. If a girl does that, people will talk about her like a dog. Girls can't get away with the things boys can, don't you know that?”

“Yeah, but that doesn't make it right.”

“There go Stevie's man, y'all,” Tanya teased, pointing to a boy that looked like a groundhog.

“No, it isn't, I don't even know him.”

“You know that's your nigger, girl, you ain't got to be shamed.” Tanya laughed.

“I never seen him before in my life.”

“Well, you better grab him, cause there go you last chance, girl,” Tanya insisted.

“Carla, who is that over there? The dufus-looking one with the bifocals,” Patrice asked.

“That's Marc's brother, Sherman. I didn't know he was going to bring him,” she said, hunching her shoulders.

“I knew that wasn't none of Stevie's man. I knew you was lying.” Patrice smiled.

“Well, you shouldn't have let him in.” Tanya laughed as Carla walked away.

Patrice elbowed Tanya. “Remember how we used to stick our arms out to see who was the lightest, remember?”

“Yeah, let's do it.”

“Put your arm out. Stevie, Tanya, Cassandra, have y'all's palms facing up. Come on, Tessa, Renee, let's see who's the lightest. Peaches, Joyce, Melody, Linda, all y'all come over here. We gonna see who's the lightest!”

“Carla, bring your arm in here, too,” Patrice shouted.

I looked at my arm against the bunch of other ones. Mine was in the middle, but closer to the dark ones than the lighter ones.

“Tessa's arm's the lightest. No, check out Peaches' arm.”

“Mine is light as Peaches',” Joyce insisted. “Linda's arm is the darkest. Look at her arm next to mine. It looks black!” she added.

Linda looked embarrassed.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked, pulling my arm out of the pile.

“Cause y'all girls! And girls are stupid!” Michael shouted as Tyrone gave him five. The group of boys laughed.

None of the girls answered my question. “Do you think that it makes somebody better 'cause her arm is lighter?” I asked. Everyone was quiet.