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Authors: Marilynn Griffith
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homecoming queen of the school across town. She’d made the cheerleading squad at Central State, where he’d be playing football, first string. I made it too, but not without a fight from Mama. Too much temptation, she said.
She gave in eventually, urging me to stay away from Jeremiah as much as possible. I even had a bishop’s daughter for a roommate to keep an eye on me. Not that I needed to be watched, my mother said when making the arrangement. It was the boys she worried about. Always the boys.
I backed into the shadows as Jeremiah dropped his beer and attended to things with both hands. My hands, empty now, covered my mouth as my future stared me in the face. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t win.
When the first punch landed, I heard it but didn’t know what it was. But the words that came after couldn’t be denied. Though he weighed less than Jeremiah, Ron used his quickness. His heartbreak too.
“I told you not to . . . I told you!”
Jeremiah’s high crashed down and he held Ron back. He argued at first, but then they both fell in a heap of frustration. They’d become close now this last year with Brian slipping away, turning into some angry cloud ready to burst at any moment. These two had prayed together, played together, talked about anything and everything.
Except me.
Jeremiah banged his head on the wall. The cheerleader slipped from under him and disappeared into the crowd, straightening her skirt as she went. I didn’t know whether to hate her or admire her. Whatever this game was, I was certainly losing.
Jeremiah couldn’t keep score either. “Man, I don’t know what I’m doing. Everybody has a plan for me. God wants me to preach. Mama wants me to marry Birdie. Daddy wants me to play football. I’m losing it, Red. I just want to do something because I want to, not because I have to.”
Ron started to say something, but I ran out before he did. I couldn’t bear to hear how I’d wrecked his life too.
Jeremiah tried to grab me when I passed by, but I slipped through his hands. Ron wouldn’t let me go so easy. He dived and caught me just as we fell through the front door.
He took his time with me at first, there on the floor of his almost empty apartment. Wouldn’t even let me in his bedroom so I could see his only furniture—a twin-size bed and a black-and-white TV. He kept saying he was going to get the TV set or take me home, he couldn’t settle on which. All I could see was his eyes. I’d never seen them this close in this much light. Or with this much love.
Ron’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he kept swallowing it down, that love, trying to carry on a conversation. It was hot in there, but he kept on his jacket.
I took off my shoes.
He closed his eyes then and I knew that he was praying. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to pray. I’d been so sorry for so long that I didn’t know what to be sorry for. I just wanted to sit here with Ron and look at his eyes.
“Put your shoes on, Birdie,” he said, taking off his jacket. “Please.”
I heard him, but by then I didn’t see my shoes. I saw Mama and Jeremiah and Miss Eva’s dead son who had fallen in love with a white girl and drowned in the shallow end of the public pool. A pool where if you looked real close when you were under the water, right near the bottom, you could still see the words WHITES ONLY, words that people said northern towns didn’t have. I saw Ron’s fiery hair and his generous eyes. I heard his steady, silent applause for my every achievement, desired his earnest love that my mother said would be the death of me.
Mama, I think I’m dead already.
And before I left this world for good, I only wanted one thing: to be kissed by a man who loved me, a man who loved God. Before tonight, I’d accepted that it would be enough for the man to love God, but now it wouldn’t have been enough. Jeremiah would have never kissed me like he had kissed that cheerleader. I wouldn’t want
She gave in eventually, urging me to stay away from Jeremiah as much as possible. I even had a bishop’s daughter for a roommate to keep an eye on me. Not that I needed to be watched, my mother said when making the arrangement. It was the boys she worried about. Always the boys.
I backed into the shadows as Jeremiah dropped his beer and attended to things with both hands. My hands, empty now, covered my mouth as my future stared me in the face. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t win.
When the first punch landed, I heard it but didn’t know what it was. But the words that came after couldn’t be denied. Though he weighed less than Jeremiah, Ron used his quickness. His heartbreak too.
“I told you not to . . . I told you!”
Jeremiah’s high crashed down and he held Ron back. He argued at first, but then they both fell in a heap of frustration. They’d become close now this last year with Brian slipping away, turning into some angry cloud ready to burst at any moment. These two had prayed together, played together, talked about anything and everything.
Except me.
Jeremiah banged his head on the wall. The cheerleader slipped from under him and disappeared into the crowd, straightening her skirt as she went. I didn’t know whether to hate her or admire her. Whatever this game was, I was certainly losing.
Jeremiah couldn’t keep score either. “Man, I don’t know what I’m doing. Everybody has a plan for me. God wants me to preach. Mama wants me to marry Birdie. Daddy wants me to play football. I’m losing it, Red. I just want to do something because I want to, not because I have to.”
Ron started to say something, but I ran out before he did. I couldn’t bear to hear how I’d wrecked his life too.
Jeremiah tried to grab me when I passed by, but I slipped through his hands. Ron wouldn’t let me go so easy. He dived and caught me just as we fell through the front door.
He took his time with me at first, there on the floor of his almost empty apartment. Wouldn’t even let me in his bedroom so I could see his only furniture—a twin-size bed and a black-and-white TV. He kept saying he was going to get the TV set or take me home, he couldn’t settle on which. All I could see was his eyes. I’d never seen them this close in this much light. Or with this much love.
Ron’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he kept swallowing it down, that love, trying to carry on a conversation. It was hot in there, but he kept on his jacket.
I took off my shoes.
He closed his eyes then and I knew that he was praying. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to pray. I’d been so sorry for so long that I didn’t know what to be sorry for. I just wanted to sit here with Ron and look at his eyes.
“Put your shoes on, Birdie,” he said, taking off his jacket. “Please.”
I heard him, but by then I didn’t see my shoes. I saw Mama and Jeremiah and Miss Eva’s dead son who had fallen in love with a white girl and drowned in the shallow end of the public pool. A pool where if you looked real close when you were under the water, right near the bottom, you could still see the words WHITES ONLY, words that people said northern towns didn’t have. I saw Ron’s fiery hair and his generous eyes. I heard his steady, silent applause for my every achievement, desired his earnest love that my mother said would be the death of me.
Mama, I think I’m dead already.
And before I left this world for good, I only wanted one thing: to be kissed by a man who loved me, a man who loved God. Before tonight, I’d accepted that it would be enough for the man to love God, but now it wouldn’t have been enough. Jeremiah would have never kissed me like he had kissed that cheerleader. I wouldn’t want
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