Elise pushed the rose window open and climbed onto the Perch. She’d expected her mother to display a greater degree of respect, considering all Kitty had done for their family.
Only some of the rumors about Kitty were true. She was an eccentric, recluse Virgo writer who hoarded her memories and accomplishments inside her home, but she didn’t lock herself inside, nor had she committed suicide. Kitty simply didn’t have much admiration for the human race, and with the exception of a handful of people, she wanted to be left alone to create the characters that continued to add to her assets. The St. Johns were among the lucky because the person closest to Kitty had been Sarah’s mother, Nellie.
Kitty, the White screen siren, and Nellie Shore, a Black single mother, had met at the peach bin in a grocery store in 1968, when Kitty invited a then-five-year-old Sarah to audition at Telescope Film Studios. After Sarah’s casting in The Daisy Lawson Show, Kitty and Nellie became close, with Nellie always on set with her young daughter.
Their friendship was kept a secret outside the studio walls. Even after years of the show’s success as television’s first interracial sitcom, Telescope worried fans and advertisers wouldn’t approve of interracial friendship behind the scenes. That was why, even today, people didn’t know Kitty and the St. Johns were neighbors, let alone how close the families were. Life before social media had made that possible.
Kitty was the reason Sarah became the little Black darling America loved. Eventually, Sarah had a dressing room to rival Kitty’s. Kitty had mentored her after the show ended, helping Sarah land roles not originally written for Black actresses. Kitty even introduced her to James, a union which sent Sarah skyrocketing emotionally, mentally, and professionally. After her husband died, Kitty moved next door to the St. Johns, where Nellie already lived as primary caregiver to Elise, Giovanni, and Noele.
When Nellie died, Elise was twelve, Giovanni was nine, and Noele was seven. Her care was replaced by a college-aged nanny, and Elise had started hiding out after school until dinner at Kitty’s house, where she could talk about her grandma. Kitty missed Nellie, maybe even more than Elise, who felt as though her death had taken her family’s heartbeat.
Hours would pass when Kitty started talking about the “golden years,” a ten-year period she cited as the happiest of her life. Kitty had been an It girl in the late fifties and early sixties and found joy reminiscing about the parties and the legends she’d rubbed elbows with. Elise never got tired of hearing about her adventures, but the things Kitty never talked about were what mattered now.
Her mother was right about one thing: Elise did need comfort and insulation. Everyone was trying to manage her. Even Kitty had managed her mourning, managed her pain, giving her the truth in small doses, like a slow medicinal drip.
Kitty’s Virgo efficiency was appreciated, but leaving the management of her afterlife in Elise’s hands had been thoughtless. Kitty knew how hard Elise would take her death and that the aftermath would affect her in ways she couldn’t have been prepared for.
She pulled half a joint from the old tin can Kitty had used as an outdoor ashtray and flicked the lighter: no flame. After four attempts and no light, she swore and hurled it off the Perch.
CHAPTER 9
Mary
August 1946
Lillian and Mrs. Catherine were waiting at the bus stop in Charlotte the next Sunday when Hazel and Mary arrived, and for years thereafter.
On that first Sunday, Catherine handed money to Lillian, with instructions to get their picture taken and have lunch. Mary pulled aside her mother, who had uncharacteristically deferred to Mrs. Catherine. “Where are you going?” They had never been apart in town for more than the few minutes it took Mary to change in the Whites-only dressing room of Ivey’s.
“Around here somewhere. Stay with Lillian, hear?”
Lillian pulled Mary’s arm. “We’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder as they made their way down the street. “? tout à l’heure, Catherine et Hazel.”
“What did you say?” Mary asked.
“That I’d see them later, in French.”
“You speak French?”
“French, Italian, and German.” Lillian pulled her again, this time through the front doors of Ivey’s, where the first floor was bustling with customers. She parked Mary in the shoe section. “If anyone asks, your mother went to the bathroom.”
“Where are you going?”
Lillian sashayed away to the cosmetics counter and, while one of the salesladies was helping someone, took a perfume from among the testers. Mary froze as she watched Lillian then disappear behind the counter. She reemerged empty-handed.
“What did you do?”
“You’ll see. Come on, let’s go get our picture taken.”
There was a line, but Lillian wormed her way past the White children with their parents and maids to the front. “Hi, Jack!” she said to the photographer.
He stopped clearing the small set to look for the speaker. “Hiya, Lilly!”
Lillian walked up to him. “Our father dropped us off between meetings. He can’t be late to his next one.”
Somehow, they were seated next. They posed on a bench with white umbrellas in front of a park background. They left with two free copies of the picture and two lollipops. Lillian put her arm around Mary’s shoulder for them to look together. “Sisters,” she said, before taking off into a run.
Mary, loving the adventure, entered Ivey’s again breathless. Lillian left her to catch her breath and marched up to one of the salesladies. “I want to report a thief.”
The woman trotted off and returned with a White man wearing glasses. He took them off to talk to Lillian. Mary watched as Lillian pointed at that lady with the blond braid. She hadn’t seen her earlier.
“I saw her put a bottle of perfume in her purse,” Lillian was saying as she walked with the man over to the counter. The blond lady stood erect, seeing the man. Mary couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but watched the lady retrieve her purse with a puzzled look. The manager opened it and produced the perfume that Lillian had taken earlier from the counter. The woman’s mouth dropped open as she began to make her case.
Lillian pointed back at Mary, as if to say, We both saw her.
The man motioned for the woman to come with him. They ascended the escalator, and this time, the woman watched Mary as she went.
A sly look crossed Lillian’s face after they were outside. “Don’t be mad.”
“Thank you.” Mary hugged Lillian, who grasped her back as if she was starved for touch. They started toward the diner near the bus station. “I get scared a lot.”
Lillian nodded knowingly. “Because of mean people like her.”
“Mean people at home too.”
“White people?”
“And Colored.”
“No one like us there, huh?”
Mary shook her head as they sat down at a table. There were other sunny-colored girls in Cottonwood, but no one as fair as Mary. And no one as smart; she could have skipped grades but opted not to. Mary had started pretending she didn’t know something about whatever, to avoid becoming a target again.
“I get lonely too,” Lillian said. “I don’t have any friends.”
Mary was startled by Lillian’s honesty. “Me neither.”
Lillian reached across the table for Mary’s hand. “Now we have each other.”
For the first time in almost a decade of living, Mary experienced what friendship felt like. It was nice to meet someone who didn’t know her origins, and even rarer to meet someone White-but-not, like herself, who didn’t judge her for breathing.
Mary rode home giddy, fueled by Lillian’s revenge.
“What you giggling about?” Hazel asked. She looked pleased to see it.
“Nothing.”
She wanted to tell Hazel but didn’t, knowing she wouldn’t approve.
Hazel raised her brows. “Did you two have fun?”
“It was the best day.”
* * *