The House of Eve, page 4
All the tables were nearly full, but Nadine spotted a fellow from high school at a table near the center.
“Showtime,” she said, smiling at Eleanor, and then sauntered across the room.
“What you know good, Clarence?” Nadine placed her long fingers on her hips and spilled her cleavage forward.
“Nadine Sher-rr-wood,” the brawny man stuttered, gazing at Nadine like she was an answer to his prayers.
“Are you going to just stare at me or invite us to sit down?” she purred.
“So-so-rry. Please.” He scrambled up and offered them both seats. Eleanor squeezed in next to Nadine as she made quick introductions.
“How-www have you been?”
“Peachy.” Nadine leaned in so that he could light her cigarette. They kept up a steady stream of conversation while Eleanor fanned her throat.
“It’s hot in here,” Eleanor said to no one in particular. She was suddenly parched and could barely move an inch without bumping into Clarence’s friend, whose breath smelled of rotten cheese. He hadn’t said much, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off her lips. This was a bad idea. She should have followed her own mind and stayed in. Eleanor looked around the room for the waitress, and that’s when she saw him.
Mr. Back from the library. William. He turned toward her before she could render her eyes away. He smiled, and she gave a small wave in response. William waved back and then he was making his way through the crowd. Eleanor dipped her head, hoping he wasn’t coming to their table, while also wanting nothing more. She tried to turn her attention to the conversation Nadine was having and busied her hands by opening and closing the clasp on Nadine’s cigarette case.
“Finally going to fancy a smoke?” Nadine mocked her, and stuttering Clarence took her humor as a cue to inch closer, warding off the boys circling.
Heat rose up Eleanor’s neck as a shadow was cast over her.
“Eleanor?”
He had abandoned his sweater for a tweed jacket and a spear-point-collar shirt. Blue sure looked mighty good on him.
Curving her face up, she grinned. “William, right?”
“What are the odds of running into you twice in one day?”
“Pretty slim I’d imagine.”
The trombone player whined out a long curdling sound as the band leader sang a finale of high notes.
“Would you like to dance?” He held his hand out to her.
She flushed and her fingers shook as she extended her arm. “I’d love to.”
Nadine pinched Eleanor’s thigh under the table in excitement as she lifted out of her seat. William did not let her hand go once she rose, and his palm was warm against hers as they moved through the swarm of people. His fingers were smooth like they hadn’t known a day of hard work, not stiff and rough like her father’s—like most of the boys Eleanor knew from back home, in fact. The quartet was loud, and Eleanor was grateful that the music drowned out the thumping of her heart.
The moment she stepped foot on the parquet dance floor, the band slowed the pace. Couples brushed against each other. William took a step toward her, draping his arm around her waist, as if it was something he had done countless times before. He smelled divine, like bark, or maybe bergamot. Whatever it was smelled masculine.
“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. I’ve only ever seen you in the library.” William’s voice was sultry at her ear.
She gulped. He had noticed her before? “My roommate dragged me out.”
“Let me guess, you’d rather be home studying?”
“How’d you know?”
“You work in the library.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I bet you spend more time with books than people,” he teased, showing perfectly stacked teeth.
“Sometimes they are better company.”
“Well, Miss Eleanor, I’m glad you came out. Everyone needs a break.” He spun her around and then dipped her. “It’s good for the soul.”
“What makes you so wise?” She lifted her head so that the light caught her eyes.
“Experience.”
They danced with ease, quickly spinning and bopping through three songs that felt like one. By the time the band took a break, Eleanor’s brows were clammy and she was sure her curls had flopped. While they applauded the musician’s set, a string of loud voices turned everyone’s attention to the front door.
“Say what? Say who? Say what? Say who?”
Through the crowd marched a single file of women dressed in lavender shirtwaist dresses, with silver belts. People parted a path for them as the ladies swayed their way onto the dance floor, moving their arms and legs in a synchronized movement. The drummer, who had been about to leave the stage, gave a few tap, tap, taps. The girls clapped their hands to his beat, and then called out in unison.
“Say Alpha Beta Chi, that’s who.”
The ABCs threw their hands in the air to hoots and applause. A few girls blew kisses, then broke away from their formation to greet friends and admirers around the dance hall. Eleanor gritted her teeth. She’d actually managed to put her dismissal by the ABCs out of her mind when dancing with William. Now it all came flying back.
William touched her elbow. “May I get you something to drink?”
While William ordered drinks, Eleanor stole a glance at the ABCs’ pledge line. These girls were outfitted in white dresses rather than the customary lavender. They wore silver ribbons in their hair. They stood against the wall, hands clasped in front of them, their stony faces waiting for instructions. Pledges on the line were to be seen but never heard as they assured their loyalty to Alpha Beta Chi. The pledgees wouldn’t earn their silver belts and the right to wear lavender until they crossed over in six weeks’ time. Eleanor should have been one of them. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy as her eyes swept their faces, confirming that Nadine had been right: all the girls were light and bright.
William returned with an Orange Crush for Eleanor. “Salut.” He raised his glass of beer. Eleanor took a sip of pop, happy for the distraction of his attention.
Suddenly, a shrill voice calling William’s name interrupted the moment between them.
They both turned to see Greta Hepburn, president of the ABCs and homecoming queen for two years straight, gliding in their direction. She nearly fell into William’s arms as she pecked him on his cheek.
He looked startled by the affection. “Good to see you, Greta,” he said, taking a step back, forcing her to drop her embrace.
Greta flung her soft wavy hair over her shoulder and turned to Eleanor. “I assume you received your letter?” She looked as if she was trying to muster sympathy, but it never reached her honey-colored eyes.
Eleanor nodded, desperately wishing that Greta had kept her mouth shut in front of William.
“Better luck next year. Stay persistent,” she cooed, then twirled to William. “I’m so thirsty. Would you be a doll and get me some punch?”
“Sure,” William said. “Eleanor, anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
William walked off as Greta moved so close that Eleanor could smell expensive department store perfume.
“How do you know William?”
“We just met.”
“He and I go way back. We practically bathed together as children,” she laughed. “Our families are very close.”
Eleanor didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and sipped her drink. William made his way back toward them grinning. Was the affectionate look for her or Greta? It was hard to tell with them standing so close to each other, but it was probably for Greta. Eleanor had to admit that Greta was a sight. Everyone on campus said so. Eleanor had never seen her without every hair perfect and in place. She reeked of money, dressed in the most eye-catching clothes and carried herself like she was the prima donna of Howard. Greta’s skin was so white the only thing that identified her as a Negro was that she attended Howard with the rest of them.
“Here you are.” William extended the drink toward Greta, and as she reached for it, her elbow slipped back behind her, knocking against Eleanor’s glass and tipping the bright Orange Crush down the front of her borrowed frock.
“I’m so sorry,” she shrieked, but didn’t move to do anything about it.
William stepped in and handed Eleanor his embroidered handkerchief. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Just humiliated, she thought. The band started playing again.
“William, let’s dance.” Greta grabbed him by the arm. William looked at Eleanor.
“I’m going to pop into the ladies’ lounge to clean up. You two have fun,” Eleanor offered, walking away before anyone had a chance to respond.
When she peered at herself in the long mirror, she saw the wet spot soaked down the front of Nadine’s frock. Now she’d have to spring for dry cleaning. Greta had bumped her on purpose, Eleanor was sure of it. Was it not enough to reject her from the ABCs?
Eleanor dabbed at the neckline with a wet paper towel, at least thankful the drink hadn’t been tea or Coke. Still, she was ruined for the night, and knew the best thing for her to do was to return to her dormitory. There was time enough for her to get in a few chapters of philosophy before bed if she left now.
On her way out, Eleanor glanced at the dance floor, where Greta swayed, her arms wrapped around William’s neck. They made the most handsome pair, looking like a couple right out of a magazine.
We practically bathed together as children.
It was just as well. There was no way that William Pride, a future doctor, could be interested in a girl like Eleanor. He had all but declared her a boring bookworm on the dance floor. Eleanor patted herself on the back for not getting too swept up in the easy nature of his hands around her waist and the kind voice in her ear. William had been polite to call on her, but it meant nothing.
She took one last look at the dance floor. Nadine was shimmying on one end, and on the other, Greta leaned in and said something that made William chuckle. Eleanor headed for the door. It wasn’t until she landed outside and felt the cool night air graze her knuckles that she realized she was still clutching William’s handkerchief.
CHAPTER FIVE ACTING UGLY
Ruby
Sunlight flooded the apartment, making it hard for me to sleep in. I rolled over on the lumpy pullout sofa to the sight of Aunt Marie sitting at the table with a piece of frozen beef against her face.
“What happened?” My wool blanket fell to my hips.
“Right before closing, I had to sucker punch a fool who couldn’t hold his liquor and was running off at the mouth.”
“You all right?”
“Looks worse than it is. Just mad at myself for not ducking.” She winced through the gap in her teeth. “I don’t know who let him in, but I could tell he was trouble by the way he sat through the show jeering all night. Management gon’ to have to do a better job screening folk. Kiki’s is a safe haven for us.”
By “us” she didn’t mean just our people, she meant her kind of people. The kind that wore what they wanted and kissed who they wanted. She let the meat down, and I could see the swirl of black and blue marbling around her left eye.
“What you need me to do?”
“Run on over to 31st Street and pick up a few things.”
When I slid my bare feet onto the cold hardwood floor, I immediately started to tremble. The furnace had gone out, but I could still smell the embers. The chill made me sneeze over and over again until my eyes watered.
“Reach up in that cabinet over the sink and take a spoonful of cod liver oil,” Aunt Marie commanded.
“I’m all right,” I responded, trying to avoid taking the nasty concoction that smelled like fish. It made my breath stink and hurt my stomach.
“Sweetness, I’m not asking. Can’t have you sick up in here, not on my watch.”
I’d stayed with Aunt Marie enough over the years to know that there was no point in arguing with her, so I grabbed a spoon and the bottle and sucked down a dose of the nasty fish oil. My stomach churned, and the aftertaste lingered on my tongue even after several gulps of water.
“That a girl.” Aunt Marie moved the meat back up to her eye. “Make sure you dress in layers.”
I nodded while making the effort to suppress another sneeze, worried that she’d make me take something more. I ruffled through the paper bags that contained my things, Inez’s words, “fast ass,” echoing from each bag. I had been right: every piece of clothing I owned was crammed in.
Seven years. That’s the amount of time Inez had played mother to me. From the time I was born until third grade, Inez was just Nene’s daughter. The pretty lady who smelled like honeysuckle and wore slingback heels, who came around on the weekends to drink beer with my cousin Fatty. Then Nene’s glaucoma worsened and she fell and fractured her hip. Two days later she was declared legally blind.
A week after her prognosis, I could tell that something was wrong by the way Nene’s bottom lip quivered as she crushed me to her breasts. “If I could keep you, sweetness, you know I would. But Nene’s getting old, and she the only mother you got. Be patient with her.”
That’s how I found out that this Inez lady was my real mama and I had to move a few blocks over to the apartment that she shared with her boyfriend of the moment.
Inez clearly never wanted me with her, though. I missed Nene and our routine something fierce. And everything I did in my new home set Inez off. If I poured too much Karo syrup on my pancakes, she’d slap me. Ask her a question while her man was present, I got cussed out. And God forbid one of her suitors took his attention off her and put it on me; that meant there would be a meeting of my behind and the thick leather belt she kept on the back of her bedroom door. Most of her mad moments were followed by a drop-off at Aunt Marie’s till she got her “nerves together.”
But Inez had never sent me packing with everything I owned. Not until this thing with Leap. My throat ached as I belched up the awful taste of cod liver oil.
“Some hominy grits in the pot for breakfast.” Aunt Marie’s voice brought me back.
I nodded. My black pants didn’t need pressing, so I slipped them on with a plaid blouse, loose cardigan and flats. When I first moved in with Inez, she had joked that my forehead was as big as a skillet, and that she could fry an egg on it. Her laughter was relentless, and from that moment on I never left the house without my bangs almost down to my eyelids. I pressed them down against my forehead, and the rest of my hair I tucked into a bun.
By the time I was ready to go, Aunt Marie had changed into her flowered housecoat and was standing at the hall mirror spreading a layer of toothpaste over her black eye.
“When you go to Sandler’s deli, don’t let that mean lady with the mole serve you. She likes to give us the tough cut a’ meat. Wait for the other lady with the blonde wig, even if she’s with a customer.”
Aunt Marie handed me a crochet shopping bag, her handwritten list, and three dollars, folded in a handkerchief that she made me pin to the inside of my blouse, close to my heart where someone would have to hold me down to get to it.
“Count my change, hear?”
I undid all three locks on her front door. Outside, the October air felt good on my face, and I was surprised that it was warmer outside than it was in the apartment. Across the street was a filling station, and as I passed by, a bearded man leaned out the window of his car and stared me down.
“Baby Love, you too fine to be walking these streets alone. Let me give you a ride.” He was old enough to be my father and had the same gold crown on his tooth as Leap.
I crossed in the opposite direction, bristling at the sound of him calling after me, turning back to make sure he wasn’t following. Satisfied, I walked two blocks over to 31st Street, where Jewish shops and businesses lined both sides of the street for a four-block radius. Shoppers could buy everything from fresh bread to fruits and vegetables, sweet treats and jewelry. The whole street was closed on Saturdays. The people who lived in the neighborhood mostly shopped the stores on Sunday, before or after church. Aunt Marie didn’t believe in church, and Inez didn’t much either. We only went when someone died or was getting married.
I moved through the storefronts, procuring everything on the list, with five cents to spare. From the moment I stepped foot onto 31st Street my eyes kept finding Greenwald’s, and I debated back and forth if I should stop by. Greenwald’s candy store was in the middle of the block, with two red-and-white poles that made me think of peppermint sticks twirling on either side of the door. I had never been inside. Some of the white stores on 31st Street felt off-limits to me, and Greenwald’s was one of them. Before Nene went blind, she used to churn homemade ice cream for us by hand, or we’d buy three pieces of candy for a penny from the corner store.
A bell chimed to announce my arrival in the shop. The noise startled me. I suddenly felt stupid for being there and turned to walk back out, but then the sound of my name rooted me to the black-and-white checkered floor.
“Ruby?”
Sure enough, it was Shimmy. He stood behind the laminated counter wearing a candy-striped apron and paper folded hat, beckoning me forward with the wave of his hand.
“You came.” His voice wavered.
“Aunt Marie sent me for her provisions.” I lifted up the shopping bag as proof, and then glanced around the store.
It was smaller on the inside then it looked from the street and smelled like cake frosting. Neatly arranged shelves lined the wall filled with glass jars containing wrapped taffy, sugared jellies, bubble gum, licorice sticks, lollipops, malted balls, fudge and things dipped in swirls of marshmallow, peanut butter, toffee, caramel and chocolate. It felt like I had stumbled into a sugarcoated dream, and I wanted to touch and taste everything.
Shimmy picked up the white towel and wiped down the top, though it already gleamed. “What can I get you?”
