Have No Shame Read online

  “Thanks,” I said, wishin’ he hadn’t come in so I could talk privately with Mama.

  “Hey, what do you think of this?” Jake placed a hand-drawn picture of our farm on the table, every detail precise, from the cracks in our front porch to the perfect dips and mounds of plantin’s in the fields. He’d drawn the entire picture with a pencil, shadin’ each crevice to the nth degree.

  I picked up the paper and looked closer. “Jake, this is amazin’.”

  Mama sat back with a smile across her lips. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “More than good. Jake, how did you learn to do this?”

  He shrugged. “Mama showed me a few things.”

  “Mama, really?”

  Pride filled Mama’s eyes. “He’s a natural. I just showed him a thing or two, tweakin’, you know. He’s really gifted.”

  “Have you shown Daddy?” I asked.

  I caught a wave of discomfort pass between them. Jake reached for the picture as the noise of the tractor quieted. Jake folded his drawin’ and shoved it in his back pocket as the screen door creaked open.

  My father crossed the kitchen and lifted me to my feet, then bent down and hugged me close. “I’ve missed you. You look radiant. How’s my grandchild?”

  I blushed. “Fine, Daddy.”

  “You look just as beautiful as your mother did when she was pregnant with you.”

  Mama pushed her hair behind her ear, revealin’ a flirty grin, then went back to work on the pie crust.

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He smacked Jake on the back. “About ready to go into town?”

  Jake’s mouth tightened.

  “Daddy, have you seen—”

  “Alison, come help me,” Mama interrupted.

  “Uh, okay,” I said, confused.

  Jake gave me a harsh look. “C’mon, Daddy, let’s go.”

  “Wait. I gotta get a drink for the crew.” My father grabbed a big, plastic pitcher from the cabinet and ran the water in the sink.

  “I’ve got ice water ready for them in the fridge,” I said.

  “This’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Daddy, why don’t you give ‘em the cold water? They’d probably appreciate it.” I spoke before thinkin’, and Daddy turned and looked at me like I’d spoken another language all together. “I mean, it’s not that cool out, and they’ve probably been workin’ for hours and all.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry ‘bout the farmhands, and you worry ‘bout the pies, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. Sorry.”

  Mama shook her head. If I hadn’t been lookin’ to her for support, I might have missed it. I mixed the sugar and butter in a large bowl, annoyance tightenin’ my nerves until I had to speak.

  “Daddy, why don’t I take the water out? I don’t mind gettin’ the water with ice.”

  “Alison Jean,” Daddy said, leavin’ no room for negotiation.

  I stirred the butter until it was creamy, faster, harder, pourin’ my energy into it as I gathered the courage to take a stance. I took a deep breath and turned to face Daddy, holdin’ onto the back of a chair for support. “Daddy, they deserve ice water. It’s just ice. It’s not like you’re cookin’ ‘em dinner.”

  Mama set her hand on my shoulder, pressin’ gently.

  My father narrowed his eyes. I thought of Maggie, and Jackson, and every person in the Panther meetin’, and I held his stare, white knuckles wrapped around the edge of the chair.

  “What’s this about, Alison?”

  “About? Nothin’, Daddy, it’s just,” I dropped my eyes. Be strong. I wrapped my arm around my middle. “They’re people, Daddy, and now that I’m havin’ a baby, I’d hate to think of someone not givin’ my child a drink of cold water when he or she needed it. It just seems…unnecessary.”

  Mama squeezed my shoulder. “Honey, why we’d better get this pie ready, or we won’t have any for dinner.”

  My father walked out of the kitchen with the pitcher of tepid water and a frown on his unshaven cheeks.

  “Sheesh, sis, what the heck?” Jake hissed.

  “Me? How about you and your picture? Why can’t Daddy see it?” Goin’ up against Daddy left my nerves full of adrenaline, and maybe even anger, but I had done it. Maggie would be proud of me. Heck, I was proud of me.

  “You know how your father is,” Mama said. She put a hand on Jake’s arm. “He doesn’t want to see Jake waste his time. He knows Jake’s talented, but your father believes self-worth comes from hard work, and in his eyes, art isn’t hard work.”

  Jake pulled his arm free and headed for the door.

  “Jake!” She stopped him with her tone. “I know it’s hard work. Your father’s just old school. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, is all.”

  “Right.” Jake pulled the picture from his pocket and tore it into shreds, throwin’ it behind him as he stormed from the house.

  “Mama, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I said quickly.

  Mama just shook her head. Creases formed across her forehead. She put the spoon she was holdin’ down and leaned on the table.

  “It’s not you, honey. All you’re doin’ is what’s right.”

  All you’re doin’ is what’s right. Mama’s confirmation fed my confidence. With Daddy and Jake gone, I willed myself to speak a little more openly with her.

  “Mama, what do you think about this whole civil rights movement?” I kept my eyes on the bowl before me.

  She sighed. “Another boy was beaten last night. It’s really gettin’ outta hand.”

  I wanted to spill my hurt over Jimmy Lee not comin’ home, and connect the dots that it might just be him beatin’ those boys, but given that everyone in my family seemed to be havin’ issues of some kind, I thought it best to hold my tongue.

  “A fourteen-year-old,” Mama continued. “He was walkin’ home from the drugstore with aspirin for his mother.” She rubbed her arms as if she’d suddenly gotten a chill. “I think in general, it’s a good thing. It’s a dangerous thing, but a good thing.” She walked to the window and watched Daddy drive the tractor toward the barn. “You know, Alison, we haven’t talked about Maggie. Tell me about Maggie. How is she?”

  When Mama turned back to me, I understood the shadow in her eyes that I hadn’t been able to decipher earlier—she was lonely. How empty her life must feel with the house so empty, all at once, losin’ both your daughters, and havin’ a son who did everything within his power to stay away from home.

  “She’s good. She likes her classes, and her job. She’s involved in things that keep her busy.”

  Mama took my hand and led me to the table, where she sat with her elbows propped up beside the bowl I’d been usin’. Then she sat back and folded her arms across her chest, then set them in her lap.

  “You’re as jumpy as Jake was with Daddy. What’s wrong?”

  “I miss her, you know? I mean, she and your father, they never saw eye to eye, but me and Maggie—”

  “She drives him batty, that’s for sure.”

  She nodded. “She knows what she wants and I admire that. Maggie’s not afraid to go after her dreams, no matter what it involves.”

  “Or, who’s in her way,” I said.

  “Right, or who’s in her way.”

  “Or, who she might lose,” I added.

  Mama nodded. “I didn’t think I’d miss you girls so much,” she admitted. “One minute the house is full of laughter, little feet scamperin’ up and down the stairs, my name bein’ hollered, then the next minute, Maggie’s off to school and you’re sneakin’ out of the house.”

  She lifted her eyes and caught me by surprise.

  “You knew?”

  “I’m your mother. I know everything.”

  “But, why didn’t you—”

  “I was young once, too. I remember what it was like, your heart poundin’ so hard in anticipation of that secret kiss. Oh, yes, I remember. I wouldn’t have taken that away from you for anything in the world.”


  Embarrassment softened my voice. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Although, you do owe me. There was one time, just before your graduation, when your father woke up as you came in the door, and I had to convince him it was the wind.” Mama took my hand and said, “It’s not easy bein’ a mother, Alison. I worried sick over you, even before you started sneakin’ out. I worried about you walkin’ down our street, headin’ to the store, while you were at school. And now, I worry about you workin’ your way through your life without me by your side.”

  The way Mama looked at me made me wonder if she knew what was goin’ on with Jimmy Lee. The more Jimmy Lee didn’t come home, the less I cared. But naggin’ and pullin’ at my mind was the thought of him beatin’ up colored boys. I didn’t have proof, and even if I did, there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I kept it tied inside my mind like a bug in a web beggin’ to be set free.

  “Do you think I can do it? Be a good mother I mean? Like you?”

  “Like me?” she laughed. “I’m not a very good mother, Alison.”

  “Yeah, Mama, you are.”

  “I’m weak. I let your father make the rules.” She folded the edges of a napkin.

  “You have to. You can’t fight him.” I thought about Daddy, his ability to define our lives without any force or harsh words. Daddy’s leer was enough to let you know your place, and his lovin’ smile was enough to want him to remain on your side.

  Mama shook her head, the edges of her eyes damp. “I’m so thankful Maggie did what she did. I should have stood up for her long ago. I should have stood up for Jake, and you.”

  “Me? Mama, I’ve had a great life. I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

  “Alison,” she took my hand in hers and lowered her voice, “I let your father teach you to believe that you had a place, and that’s just wrong.” She looked away and then back at me. “I let him push away my dreams, and that was okay, that was a different time all together, but then I let him push away Jake’s dreams, and your own blessed thoughts.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I swear my heart stopped and the world silenced as Mama searched my eyes for the truth. I knew exactly what she meant, but I didn’t dare tread down that path. I wanted the illusion of Mama bein’ happy to remain in my heart forever.

  She patted my hand. “Okay, well, I should have stepped in and made you realize that such a place should not exist.”

  What are you tellin’ me?

  “Alison, how are things with Jimmy Lee?”

  Mama wasn’t a nosey woman. The fact that she was askin’ me meant that she’d caught wind of somethin’. I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. He works a lot.”

  She looked deep into my eyes and drew my tears right out. I held my breath. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Oh, Alison.” Mama wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me to her bosom. “Shh.”

  “It’s so hard, Mama. He’s never home, and when he is, he’s drinkin’, and I just don’t know what happened, how things went so wrong.”

  She stroked the back of my head. Tellin’ her the truth brought my shoulders down where they belonged and air to my lungs. I breathed like I hadn’t breathed in months, with lungs so full of oxygen I felt like my brain worked for the first time in forever. I pulled back from her and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. That was very unwifely of me, but Mama, it’s so hard. Some days I feel like I might burst, sittin’ in that apartment waitin’ for him, not knowin’ if he’ll be drunk or if he’ll even come home before midnight.”

  Mama listened, without interruptin’ me.

  “I don’t even think he loves me anymore, Mama. Most days I’m not even sure why I married him.”

  “I know why you married him, Alison. You’d have done anything to keep peace within this house. I just shouldn’t have let you do it.”

  I stood and paced. “You couldn’t have stopped me, Mama. I was runnin’ from myself as much as tryin’ to keep peace. I was afraid of what I might do if I didn’t marry him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  So much had happened over the past few weeks that I felt like everywhere I turned a crisis was waitin’ on me. Though it felt good to unload my marital worries on Mama, I wondered if puttin’ that burden on her was fair. I knew she’d worry ‘bout me now more than ever. I was feelin’ so alone lately, maybe I secretly wanted that worry. Did that make me selfish? I wondered.

  The mornin’ rush had eased into a calm afternoon at the diner. I was puttin’ in a few more hours than I usually did, but I figured it’s better than sittin’ home worryin’ ‘bout my husband’s whereabouts. When the knock came at the back door, I was happy for the distraction.

  I opened the back door of the diner and shivered against the tricklin’ rain. A gust of wind blew through the alley and up my legs. I handed the large, brown, paper bag to Jackson’s mother, his letter tucked deftly inside between two napkins.

  “Tonight, eight o’clock,” she whispered from beneath her umbrella.

  I nodded, and as I turned to go into the buildin’, she touched my hand. When I turned to look at her, fearin’ an outburst about how I’d hurt her son, she looked at me with a smile behind her eyes. I retreated back inside the diner and closed the door, leanin’ against it as I calmed my racin’ heart.

  My eyes jumped from one customer to the next. I half expected them to jump up and point at me, yellin’, “Negro lover!” I smoothed my uniform over my burgeonin’ belly and went back to work.

  As I walked home that afternoon, I wondered how I would get out at eight o’clock. Maybe Jimmy Lee wouldn’t even be home yet. With the way things had been goin’, that was a real possibility. I decided to face the problems with Jimmy Lee head on. I turned around and headed for the furniture store, knowin’ that there was a good chance he wouldn’t be there. I just kept hangin’ onto the hope that he did show up for work on most days, and that I was just askin’ on the days he’d skipped out. If he was there, I was fixin’ to ask him if he’d be home on time, and if not, then he needed to fess up to whatever was goin’ on to keep him away from home. I walked seven blocks in the pourin’ rain. By the time I reached the parkin’ lot I was determined that if Jimmy Lee wasn’t at work I’d walk down to that godforsaken bar and find my husband. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy left in me concernin’ Jimmy Lee, but the notion that he would choose to be with those heathens instead of me set my feet in motion. Even with my umbrella, my sneakers were soaked through to my toes, and my legs were frigid.

  I peered around the corner of the buildin’, lookin’ for Jimmy Lee’s truck. Relief brought a laugh to my lips. Maybe Mr. Kelly was wrong after all. Jimmy Lee might drink, but maybe he wasn’t doin’ those other things behind my back.

  The metal door on the side of the buildin’ squeaked open. I ducked around to the front and leaned against the brick beneath the green and tan awnin’. The side door slammed, echoin’ against the rain.

  Yellin’ filled the air. I strained to hear what was said, but between the now sheetin’ rain and the distance, I only caught angry tones—and those angry tones belonged to Jimmy Lee and his uncle. I hurried back down the street toward the diner. I heard Jimmy Lee’s truck start, so I turned into the alley beside the drugstore and waited for him to pass.

  Wheels squealed on the wet pavement. Jimmy Lee’s truck sped past. I breathed fast and hard, panicked. Jimmy Lee would arrive home and I would not be there. I went into the drugstore and searched for somethin’ to use as an excuse.

  “Hi, sweetie, what can I get for you today?” Mr. Shire’s wrinkled face was too happy for the frantic worry that raced through me.

  “I, um, gee, I can’t really remember,” I said.

  “Oh, honey, that happens a lot with pregnancy. You just take your time. Here, let me get you a paper towel to dry off.” He disappeared behind the counter and returned with a handful of paper towels. “It’s a wet one today, isn’t it?”

&nbs
p; I wiped the rain off my arms, chest, and face. My eyes searched the shelves, finally landin’ on a beautiful, pink bottle of Pepto Bismol. “That’s what I came for, a bottle of Pepto.” I reached for it while Mr. Shire rattled on about his wife’s stomach ailments when she was pregnant.

  “Are you gonna be alright walkin’ home in this mess? You’re welcome to wait here for a while ‘til the rain lets up.”

  And deal with Jimmy Lee’s wrath when I get home even later? “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  Jimmy Lee’s truck wasn’t in the parkin’ lot when I arrived home. I went upstairs and found the apartment just as I’d left it. A warm shower served to chase away the chill that had settled in my bones. It was already three thirty and I prayed the rain would stop before the evenin’ arrived.

  I answered the phone on the second ring, hopin’ it would be Jimmy Lee.

  “Alison? This is Mr. Kane. I wondered if I might escort you tonight to the meetin’ of the Blue Bonnet Club.”

  “The Blue Bonnet Club?” Had I missed somethin’?

  “Yes, the women’s guild meetin’ tonight? My wife Mitzi will be goin’ and she suggested we pick you up along the way.” He lowered his tone when he said women’s guild, and I realized that he was coverin’ for the meetin’ at the creek later that evenin’. I felt as dumb as a stump.

  “Yes, of course, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “We’ll pick you up at seven forty-five.”

  The rain had stopped, leavin’ the creek runnin’ high and the surroundin’ ground soft and mucky. I stood in my rain boots among a growin’ crowd, some of whom I recognized, and some I did not. Since Jimmy Lee didn’t return home, I left him a message and decided that what I was doin’ was far more important than worryin’ about where he’d sped off to.

  Mr. Kane stood beside me in his huntin’ coat, his rifle in his right hand, pointed at the ground. I questioned the safety of my very presence as the din around me grew louder and more people emerged from the woods. I worried each one would be Daddy, or worse, Jimmy Lee.