Noticing their one-on-one, some of the kids surrounded them, making kissing noises. Richard ran, and thereafter said maybe three words to her until freshman year, when they both ended up in geometry. Richard had spent the summer in Chicago and was taller, darker, and more handsome. They became friends over their shared distaste for their teacher. Sophomore year, she asked him to be her chemistry partner, and midway through the year he finally got the courage to ask to walk her home. They became a couple after a few fish Fridays at her house, at which point Richard admitted he’d been smitten with her since the third grade.
Hazel wasn’t thrilled but, knowing she couldn’t stop Mary’s social activities given her work schedule, continued to impress upon Mary just how much a baby would impede her life. “And he’ll be gone, with another girl just as pretty as you.” Her warnings over the years resulted in Mary being a virgin valedictorian. Richard came in third. All they did, besides some kissing and rubbing, was study.
Hazel filled her Sundays with double doses of church, but Mary had been allowed to come home after morning service to “do homework” with Richard, cook for the week, and write. Her storytelling was the only thing that had lingered post-Lillian.
She thought about Lillian sometimes when they went to Charlotte, but those trips were few and far between. Whenever they did go, it was to run errands for Mrs. Nora, who liked a dress shop and the butcher there. Jim Crow said White patrons had to be helped first, so even if it was Hazel’s turn and another White person walked in, she would have to wait. Hours could be wasted, and on Hazel’s one day off, it was the last way she wanted to spend it. Mary’s skin circumvented such inconveniences.
Late one Saturday afternoon, they were on the bus headed to Charlotte because Hazel had forgotten to pick up Mrs. Nora’s dress for her husband’s eightieth birthday party the next day. Mary squashed herself against the window, as far away from her mother as she could get.
“I know you better stop with that attitude,” Hazel said. “I forgot, and I’m sorry.”
“She could have worn another dress.” Mary could feel her mother’s eyes on her. They had been steel gray for days; completely devoid of blue and the lightest Mary had ever seen them. Mary, knowing they darkened when she was angry, worried this lighter gray indicated a posture devoid of emotion altogether.
It was Senior Week, and Radley’s, the drive-in movie theater, was showing Frankenstein that night in celebration of the Negro class of 1955. The drive-in only permitted Negroes once a month, and for the two weeks since they had gotten the Senior Week schedule, it was all Mary talked about. She hadn’t been to the movies since Lillian stopped coming to Charlotte. It was too risky for her to pass in Winston, and she wouldn’t have sat in the balcony if someone paid her.
Beyond that, she’d been expecting Richard to propose that evening. He was going to borrow his Dad’s Cadillac and had made a reservation for dinner. The weather was supposed to be balmy and romantic—88 degrees, with a breeze. Graduation was in a week, and Mary imagined that the dinner his mother had already planned might be their engagement party.
“You hear me talking to you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mary mumbled, even angrier at being pulled from her fantasy.
“We’ll be back in time.”
They arrived in Charlotte minutes before the dress shop closed. Hazel hustled, giving Mary a sly dagger stare every two steps to hurry. Mary, still seething about how Mrs. Nora could have driven to get her own dress if it was so important, stopped to admire a mustard-yellow dress in a store window with a plunging neckline and a slim, structured bodice. It was perfect for graduation.
Hazel commanded her to “come on” through tight, motionless lips. Mary ignored her and stepped inside the store, knowing Hazel couldn’t. “May I try that dress on?”
“Miss. Mary—”
Mary waved a hand at her mother. “A minute, Hazel.” All this time spent pretending to be White: Mary figured she might as well go all the way and do what she wanted for once.
“Yes, of course, Miss.” The clerk disappeared into the back of the store.
Hazel’s body swelled with anger, consuming the width of the doorframe and blocking the afternoon light. Her eyes narrowed at Mary until they appeared to be closed. Mary heard the clerk’s heels coming behind her and watched Hazel’s anger melt into feigned happiness. “I’ll let the dress shop know you’ll be right along.”
Mary snatched the dress from the woman. “What took you so long? I’m in a hurry.” She shut the dressing room door, breathing fast, too fast, unable to face herself in the mirror. Panicked about the wrath awaiting her, she pushed the door open. It slammed against the opposite wall, alarming the clerk. She ran out without an apology.
Hazel was standing in the street in front of the shop, smoking. She nodded at the CLOSED sign. Her face was straight, her voice was flat. “He’s there but won’t open the door for me.”
Mary knocked, and the white-haired, older White man behind the counter scurried over, smiling and smoothing what little hair he had as he turned the lock. “I’m sorry; we’re closed, Miss.”
“Please? I sent our maid to tell you I’d be right over.”
He eyed Hazel over her shoulder. Mary tried again. “It’s for my grandmother, Mrs. Nora Lakes. I forgot to pick it up earlier. She needs it for a party.”
“Ah, you must be Shirley. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Mary didn’t know who Shirley was but smiled.
He dipped his head in apology. “You know they’ll say anything. I thought she was lying. Wait here.”
Hazel didn’t speak or look at Mary during the two-hour bus ride home. As soon as they were alone, Mary started to apologize but couldn’t form her lips to speak before Hazel’s hand came across her face so hard that she tasted blood.
* * *
Richard’s big hands tilted her face toward the hanging light in her kitchen. “She hit you like you cursed her.”
Mary just said she’d mouthed off. Had he known the extent of her disrespect, he would have agreed she deserved it. And she did. “It’ll bruise.” She touched her lip which had started to swell.
“And on graduation.” He kissed her, pulled away, and then kissed her again. “But you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Mary pushed his hands. She felt bad about herself right then, and he was always fawning over her looks, as if it were her only virtue in the world.
He went for his pants pocket. “I have something to cheer you up.”
She involuntarily held her breath as he produced a map. “We just got that new building on Fifty-Fourth Street.” He opened it across the kitchen table to show her the downtown location of his father’s newest contract.
Disappointed his news wasn’t a proposal, she clapped. “That should help with costs next year.” Richard’s father had promised to pay for their schooling so they didn’t have to work and could finish on time. After they were married, they would live in his parents’ attic until they graduated and moved up north, maybe to D.C. or Chicago, for Richard to go to medical school.
“It’s more than that, baby! He wants to show me the ropes and retire.”
“How will you work and keep up your classes?”
“I’m not going to school.”
“Did you not get in?” Mary hadn’t wanted to ask, but his admittance letter from Central was late. Hers had come weeks prior.
“That’s not why. This is my decision. My father needs me.”
“But you want to be a doctor. He wants you to be a doctor.” Richard had been so committed, he had endured taking AP physics and calculus at Reynolds, the White high school, that year.
“I’ll be almost thirty years old by then.”
“The time’s going to pass anyway! Do you want to spend it managing janitors?”
“It’s not about what I want. We’ll be better off with me owning my own business.”
“Better off than a doctor?”
“Better off than a Negro doctor, yes.” His hand smoothed her hair and felt heavy, like the pressure to support his new plan. “We can get our own house sooner, have a baby.”