doin’ anything more than tendin’ to our meals, clothin’, and school needs. Mama was becomin’ someone else right before my eyes, and I wondered what other secrets she held. The more I thought about what I might not know about her, the more I wanted to share my burdens with her.
“Mama?” I asked tentatively. “What if you knew who hurt Albert Johns? Would you do somethin’ about it?”
She stopped hummin’, her eyes shot to the barn and back. When she answered, her voice was very quiet. I leaned in close to hear her.
“That wouldn’t do any good. There’s no punishment for beatin’ up a colored boy.”
Or killin’ a colored man. “But, how would you live with yourself? Knowin’ what someone had done and that they didn’t get punished?”
Again her eyes shot across our property. She folded the sheet she had been holdin’ and came to my side. Mama took my hand in hers and walked me around to the other side of the house, out of sight from the barn. She reached in her apron pocket and pulled out an elastic band, wrapped it expertly around her fingers, then gathered her hair behind the nape of her neck, and fastened it in one quick movement.
“Honey, no justice will be served for this. There’s nothin’ we can do or say that will make this attack be justly punished.” Again, she eyed the barn. “I shouldn’t have taken you with me. It was wrong of me. Please, if you do one thing, please just live your life and forget about this nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense, Mama, and I can’t even believe you are callin’ it that.”
Mama remained quiet for so long, I feared I’d be punished for talkin’ back to her. When she looked back into my eyes, I saw so much more there than anger. They were drenched in defeat.
“Honey, you’re too young to understand the dangers that make up this kind of thing.”
“I’m not, Mama.” I paced beside her, adrenaline rushin’ through my veins. I had never stood up to either of my parents before, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Do you think that just because you and Daddy turn off the radio I don’t hear about what’s happenin’ in the world? Look at Mr. Bingham. He was murdered and the police didn’t even care.” The honesty felt good, even if it scared the hell out of me.
“Alison, lower your voice.” Mama peered around the side of the house toward the barn. “Please, just keep yourself out of this mess. You have a good life ahead of you. Marry Jimmy Lee, have children, let this kind of thing work itself out.”
“Work itself out? Well, can I do what you did? Can I help them?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate or soften her tone. Mama grabbed my arm and squeezed tight. She’d never before laid a hand on me. She meant business, and it frightened me. “You are never to do what I did, do you hear me? Alison Jean, promise me.”
I tried to pull my arm away, but as confident as I had suddenly become, I had no strength to back it up. I relented. “Okay, I promise.” In my mind, I was already plannin’ my traipse down to the creek, more determined than ever to see how Jackson’s family was holdin’ up. I knew in my heart that I was doin’ the right thing, and though Mama feared for me, and was probably correct in doin’ so, I had to do what I felt was right.
I helped Mama with the dishes, nervously lookin’ for Jackson through the window. He had no way of knowin’ that I would meet him. I’d denied that I would, after all. A plan formed in my mind. While Daddy listened to the radio in the other room, and Mama finished the dishes, I stepped out on the porch where I’d left my library books. I grabbed a pencil, tore a piece of paper from my notebook, and scribbled, I will be there. Then I peeked in the window to make sure Daddy was still seated in his chair, which he was, and I ran out to where Jackson’s bike was layin’ on the ground. My hands shook as I lifted the seat and tucked the slip of paper underneath. I hoped he’d
“Mama?” I asked tentatively. “What if you knew who hurt Albert Johns? Would you do somethin’ about it?”
She stopped hummin’, her eyes shot to the barn and back. When she answered, her voice was very quiet. I leaned in close to hear her.
“That wouldn’t do any good. There’s no punishment for beatin’ up a colored boy.”
Or killin’ a colored man. “But, how would you live with yourself? Knowin’ what someone had done and that they didn’t get punished?”
Again her eyes shot across our property. She folded the sheet she had been holdin’ and came to my side. Mama took my hand in hers and walked me around to the other side of the house, out of sight from the barn. She reached in her apron pocket and pulled out an elastic band, wrapped it expertly around her fingers, then gathered her hair behind the nape of her neck, and fastened it in one quick movement.
“Honey, no justice will be served for this. There’s nothin’ we can do or say that will make this attack be justly punished.” Again, she eyed the barn. “I shouldn’t have taken you with me. It was wrong of me. Please, if you do one thing, please just live your life and forget about this nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense, Mama, and I can’t even believe you are callin’ it that.”
Mama remained quiet for so long, I feared I’d be punished for talkin’ back to her. When she looked back into my eyes, I saw so much more there than anger. They were drenched in defeat.
“Honey, you’re too young to understand the dangers that make up this kind of thing.”
“I’m not, Mama.” I paced beside her, adrenaline rushin’ through my veins. I had never stood up to either of my parents before, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Do you think that just because you and Daddy turn off the radio I don’t hear about what’s happenin’ in the world? Look at Mr. Bingham. He was murdered and the police didn’t even care.” The honesty felt good, even if it scared the hell out of me.
“Alison, lower your voice.” Mama peered around the side of the house toward the barn. “Please, just keep yourself out of this mess. You have a good life ahead of you. Marry Jimmy Lee, have children, let this kind of thing work itself out.”
“Work itself out? Well, can I do what you did? Can I help them?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate or soften her tone. Mama grabbed my arm and squeezed tight. She’d never before laid a hand on me. She meant business, and it frightened me. “You are never to do what I did, do you hear me? Alison Jean, promise me.”
I tried to pull my arm away, but as confident as I had suddenly become, I had no strength to back it up. I relented. “Okay, I promise.” In my mind, I was already plannin’ my traipse down to the creek, more determined than ever to see how Jackson’s family was holdin’ up. I knew in my heart that I was doin’ the right thing, and though Mama feared for me, and was probably correct in doin’ so, I had to do what I felt was right.
I helped Mama with the dishes, nervously lookin’ for Jackson through the window. He had no way of knowin’ that I would meet him. I’d denied that I would, after all. A plan formed in my mind. While Daddy listened to the radio in the other room, and Mama finished the dishes, I stepped out on the porch where I’d left my library books. I grabbed a pencil, tore a piece of paper from my notebook, and scribbled, I will be there. Then I peeked in the window to make sure Daddy was still seated in his chair, which he was, and I ran out to where Jackson’s bike was layin’ on the ground. My hands shook as I lifted the seat and tucked the slip of paper underneath. I hoped he’d
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