Have No Shame (17 page)

We listened as the lawyers described violent riots, with protesters of all races bein’ beaten, some near death, colored men goin’ missin’, and even reports of women bein’ manhandled. Arrests, they said, were sure to happen, by the hundreds. I clawed Maggie’s shoulder. She put her hand on mine and patted it. I could feel her digestin’ all of the dangers as her shoulders tensed beneath my fingers. Darla reached over and laid her hand on top of ours. I looked at her, and she mouthed,
It’s okay. Change is good.

There was beauty in the mixin’ of the races in the room. I sensed a meshin’ of strength and hope. What was missin’ was fear. The coloreds in Forrest Town carried fear in their tentative gaits, embarrassment clear in their rearward glances when they headed toward the back doors of the buildin’s. The lack of that type of fear was evident in that jam-packed room where I sat clingin’ to my sister’s shoulder. I still didn’t trust this change, though the enormity of the hope rose above the horrific odors of perspiration and cigarettes that lingered like thick fog in the tiny room. I laid my hand across my belly, and slowly came to realize how much I wanted my baby to grow up in a world of hope, not a world of oppression—even if that oppression might not be pushed upon a white child, it still had an unforgivable impact.

“We’re scheduling the boycott for Forrest Town for late fall. As you know, the white children go back to school in September, but the colored children are forced to pick cotton in the fields, and they don’t return to school until after picking season. We want to hit at a time when those white folks
need
the colored labor. The goal is to stop all purchase power in the white stores and all picking power on the farms. This will have the greatest impact.” Sweat glistened on Mr. Nash’s forehead, the pits of his white shirt soaked through.

His words hit home, and I worried about my daddy’s farm, and how he would make it through the winter without his income from the fields. There had been years when he had to borrow money for cotton seed, and I remembered those years with less food on the table and restrictions on how often we could go into town with the truck. One year we all helped Daddy cut down all the trees in the lower five acres of our property and brought it to the mill to sell. My memory of that year was dull. I scarcely remember anything more than constant fatigue. I worried about Jimmy Lee’s job and his uncle’s furniture store, but that worry was too cloudy with hurt to be anything more than an obligatory thought.

“Forrest Town families rely on the income from the fields, both colored and white families. Retailers rely on the income stream from neighborin’ towns. Without it, the stores will shut down.”

The voice came from behind me and stole my very breath.
Jackson
. I turned toward his proud voice, my hand slippin’ from between Maggie and Darla’s safe grip. I stared into a thick crowd of bodies, my heart slammin’ against my ribs, and I wondered if I’d somehow merely wished his voice. Then, the crowd split, and Jackson, in all his handsomeness, stood before me. His eyes were locked on the lawyer in the front of the room. Each step he took brought with it a memory; his scent, his touch, the thick deliciousness of his kiss. The urge to reach for him was strong. I clasped my hands in my lap, hopin’ to quell my sinful thoughts. The love that I thought I had given up, forgotten about, maybe even only dreamed existed, reared its powerful heat within me.

“There’ll be coloreds who won’t take part. They won’t work against us, but they’ll be too ‘fraid of what comes with fightin’ segregation.” He stood beside Mr. Nash, his shoulders and chest thicker than when I’d last seen him, five months ago. His face was stronger, his eyes more determined and focused than I’d remembered. Under my hand, somethin’ in my stomach moved.
My baby
. Jimmy Lee’s baby. The doctor estimated twelve weeks when I had the blood drawn. Twelve weeks. My weddin’ night. There was no turnin’ back, now just shy of five months. I’d made my choice, and now I felt sick to my stomach instead of excited by the first movements of the child that grew within me.

“Are you okay, hun? You’re shakin’.” Darla put her hand across my shoulder.

Maggie spun around. “Pix, you alright?” she whispered.

I didn’t mean to shake my head instead of nod, but that’s what happened. Maggie helped me stand from my perch on the couch. Darla put an arm around my waist as they led me away from the group. I turned and looked over my shoulder, meetin’ Jackson’s confused eyes.

The small bedroom in the back of the apartment where the meetin’ was takin’ place smelled like cigarettes and hummed from the voices outside the door. I laid on the bed, Maggie and Darla crouched beside me.

“What’s goin’ on? Do you need a doctor?” Maggie asked.

“No, I’m just tired. All that travel must have worn me out worse than I thought.” Their concerned stares were too much to take. How could I tell my sister about my secret love for Jackson? I was sure that even the thought would get me a one-way ride to hell. “Can we just go home?” I asked.

Maggie shook her head. “It’s a really long walk. I think we’re better off restin’ here until after the meetin’ and bummin’ a ride. I don’t have fare for a streetcar.”

I closed my eyes and listened to the noises of the meetin’, remindin’ myself that I was supposed to love Jimmy Lee.
I love Jimmy Lee. I love Jimmy Lee
played in my mind. I turned toward the dirty, gray wall and thought,
I love Jackson Johns. I love Jackson Johns. I’m in so much trouble
.

The door opened and when Jackson’s voice floated over my back and into my ears I held my breath. “Is everything alright?”

I couldn’t turn and face him. I was afraid to be that close to him. I didn’t trust myself.

“Yeah, my sister just got here from Arkansas. She’s exhausted.” Maggie rubbed my back, then said, “Hey, Jackson, do you know Alison? You worked on our farm a bit when you were home, remember?” She tapped my shoulder. “Pix? Turn around and say hi.”

No, no, no!

“Uh, no, we never met,” Jackson lied.

Maggie pulled my shoulder and turned me just enough to see him. I blinked back the love that wanted to drip from my eyes. I covered my belly, ashamed of the child that grew within me, ashamed of what that child represented between us—my weakness, the love I threw away to save face with my own father.

Jackson walked over to the bed and looked down at my stomach. I thought I had forgotten the hold that look of desperation had on my heart. His dark brows furrowed, his eyes softly takin’ me in. Behind the concern of his serious cheeks, I felt a warmth, a carin’ smile that dared not show for fear of revealin’ whatever emotions lie in wait. “When is your baby due? Alison, right?”

I nodded.

“She’s due in March. Little Pix here got pregnant on her weddin’ night!”

“Maggie!” I flushed.

“Yeah?” Jackson crossed his arms. His next words were caressed with sadness that I think only I noticed. “You are certainly blessed.”

“Hey, Jackson, do you want to meet up with us tomorrow, after Pixie, uh, Alison, is feelin’ better? I want to talk about what she can do back home, in town, to help prepare.”

“Maggie? What if I’m not feelin’ better?”

“I can come to your apartment,” Jackson offered, holdin’ my gaze.

“Yes, perfect. We’ll figure it out then,” Maggie agreed.

Jackson reached for my hand. “Until then, Alison?”

I shook his hand, in the eyes of Maggie and Darla, the hand of a carin’ stranger.  Warmth spread through my body, and I knew I was in trouble.

The next afternoon, trepidation pinched my nerves. By noon I had already cleaned Maggie’s apartment, washed down her counters and bathroom, and still had more nervous energy than I knew what to do with.

“What is with you, Pix? One minute you’re shaky and weak, the next you’re like Mama, only hyper.”

“Nervous, I guess. I’m not sure this boycott is the best idea.” I kept my back to her as I wiped down the inside of the front door.

“It’s scary, but just think of the families you will help. For generations to come, people will talk about the ones who made it happen.”

“But, arrests? Missin’ men? I mean, it sounds pretty scary to me. You know what Jimmy Lee and Daddy will do if they find out I’m helpin’, right? They’ll lock me in the cellar for good.” My mind drifted back to the day Jimmy Lee found Maggie’s letters and the attack that followed. I shivered.

“They’ll never know.”

I turned to face her. I swear my belly had grown overnight. It protruded like a small watermelon carried by my widenin’ hips. “Yeah? Jimmy Lee already thinks I’m wantin’ to be involved in civil rights, remember?”

“We’ll have to go covert, then. Can I send you letters at work instead of at your apartment?”

I thought about that route. “Maybe.”

“And as for Daddy, well, why would he find out? Daddy stays on the farm. He’s not a busy body or attune to town gossip. Jimmy Lee might be a different story. You’ll probably have to figure out a way to meet with some of the colored supporters without Jimmy Lee findin’ out.”

“Supporters? Division Street? Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

“Jackson’s mama has been coordinatin’ the meetin’s. She works at the furniture store, in the warehouse, too. And since Albert works for Daddy, maybe you guys could meet at one of their houses.”

“Oh, yeah,” I smirked. “I can just see me waddlin’ down toward that end of town. People would notice me from a mile away.”

“What about outside of town?”

“How would I get there?”

“What about at the river, that’s not far from the apartment, you could say you’re takin’ a walk, or do it while Jimmy Lee is at work.”

I could do that
.

By the time Jackson arrived, a knot had tightened across my shoulders in anticipation of his visit. Maggie let him in and I busied myself pourin’ lemonade and settin’ out the cornbread I had baked.

“Smells like my mama’s kitchen,” Jackson said as he sat on the couch.

Seatin’ would be a problem. The couch was small and there were no other chairs. I set the tray on the small table and lowered myself to the ground facin’ the couch.

Jackson stood, “Please, sit here.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m pregnant, not injured.”

“Alison!” Mama’s shock rode on Maggie’s face. She turned to Jackson. “I’m sorry, her manners must have slipped away with her pregnancy.”

Jackson laughed, and it brought warmth to my cheeks. I felt like a schoolgirl experiencin’ her first sip of moonshine, only I’d already tasted the sweet nectar and longed for more.
Would I flush every time I was near him
? I wondered, or was it the old everyone-wants-what-they-can’t-have syndrome that Mama had warned me about so many times?

“I’m sorry. Thank you, Jackson,” I said.

Jackson and Maggie concocted a way for me to communicate with the families. Jackson would call his mother, and she’d spread the word among them. She’d get a message to me through the back door of the diner, and so the system was born. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Jackson. I could feel him purposefully not lookin’ at me, and when he did stray my way, his eyes met mine, never lowerin’ to my stomach, never lettin’ on that he had any feelin’s for me whatsoever. I couldn’t blame him. I had been the one to throw away the brief, albeit immense, love we shared. I’d been the one to marry a man I didn’t truly love, and now I’d have his spawn. I loved the baby inside me, or at least I thought I was lovin’ it more and more with each passin’ day. It still didn’t feel very real to me. But that love was tamped down the moment I saw Jackson. The baby felt like a bridge between us that I knew we could never cross. I must be losin’ my mind, because I had no business thinkin’ in those terms at all.

“How does that sound, Alison?” Maggie asked.

I had been so busy wallowin’ in self pity that I had no idea what they’d been talkin’ about.

“Um, what part? The river?”

Maggie laughed. “The whole thing. I know how you feel about the river.”

“We’re worried that with findin’ Mr. Bingham,” Jackson’s voice softened, “it might bring back too many hard feelin’s.” He looked at Maggie. “Maybe we should choose another location. I don’t feel really safe with her goin’ there anyway.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, knowin’ full well that it would be harder than milkin’ a horse to return to the river. Not only did Mr. Bingham’s body linger in my mind, but a shadow of Jimmy Lee’s nastiness remained. “Actually, can we meet at the creek at the end of our property? It runs parallel to the apartments behind the woods. I think it’s even closer than the river, so it might be easier for me.” Maybe it was bad of me to suggest the creek, since it was where Jackson and I had spent our first afternoon together, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see how he’d react, and besides, it was more convenient.

Jackson shot a look at me and rearranged himself on the couch. The way he twitched in his seat told me that, like me, he was thinkin’ about the first time we walked down by the creek. As cruel as that might seem, it warmed my heart to see him squirm. He couldn’t forget our time together any better than I could. “I don’t—”

“I think we should do whatever will make Alison feel safest,” Maggie looked at me protectively. “Pix, do you remember Mr. Kale? The old man who used to run the post office?”

“Sure. Candy Kale the lollipop man? Why?”

“His son is part of the Panthers’ support group and he’ll be there at each meetin’.”

“Is that safe for him? I mean—”

“Yes,” Jackson answered. “He’s well protected. I worry more about you, Alison. You’re with child. I’m not sure this is the best thing for you to take part in.”

“I want to do this. I want my baby to be born into an integrated world and brush arms with everyone, not be afraid to play with other children just because of the color of their skin. Every time I see a white water fountain and a colored water fountain it makes me sick. Don’t get me wrong, I’m petrified to do this, but I think I have to.” I took a deep breath and said, “I can’t be weak any longer. It’s time Daddy knew what I believed in.” I wanted to prove to Jackson that my feelin’s still rode deep, and that I was gonna make a change in my priorities. I realized that as soon as Daddy knew what I was fixin’ to be a part of, there’d be no keepin’ those thoughts from Jimmy Lee, and I was slowly comin’ to realize that my baby bein’ born into an integrated lifestyle did not go hand in hand with Jimmy Lee raisin’ this child. I had no idea what I’d do about it, but the thought was ridin’ heavily on my shoulders.