Papa rubbed his chin, pondering. “I reckon it ain’t.”
As Mr. Pete, Ma Pearl, and Mama prattled on about Armour and Company, Chicago, and their shiny new apartment awaiting them on the South Side, Papa continued to regard Mr. Pete with a furrowed brow. “Pete,” he said finally, his forehead wrinkled, his pipe dangling from his hand, “you sold all that land and bought a fancy car just so you could drive up to the city to make soap?”
Mr. Pete’s expression soured. “Mr. Carter,” he said, his voice booming, “a Negro can own all the land in Mississippi and still be treated worse than a hog. I can’t even register to vote in this county without the threat of being gunned down on the courthouse steps.” He placed his arm around Li’ Man’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I didn’t sell my land to buy a car,” he said, staring intently at Papa. “I sold my land to buy an opportunity. A future for my children.”
“Well, making soap still don’t sound like a proper way to make a living to me,” said Papa.
Mr. Pete shook his head. “I don’t want this kind of life for Callie and Christopher.” He gestured toward the open window, suggesting the cotton fields beyond it. “They deserve better.”
“Better than what?” asked Papa, his brows raised.
Mama interjected. “They got real good schools up there,” she said. She smiled awkwardly and tugged at one of Sugar’s long braids. “Our babies can even go to the same school as white children if they want.”
Good schools for Sugar and Li’ Man, huh? With white children. Well, what about me and Fred Lee? Don’t we deserve good schools too instead of that haunted school for coloreds where everything in it is junk the white folks didn’t want in their children’s schools anymore?
When I was little, watching Mama pamper Sugar and Li’ Man, I used to think that maybe if I had light skin and long hair like Sugar’s, she would love me that way too, maybe even let me live with them. And the same for Fred Lee, except his hair would be curly and coal black like Li’ Man’s. So every night after I finished reciting the Lord’s Prayer to Ma Pearl, I prayed earnestly, “Jesus, please let me wake up in the morning with bright skin and long hair like Sugar’s.” But every morning I woke with the same chocolate complexion and short, nappy hair I had the day Mama left.
I finally gave up on the prayer after two years and two seriously callused knees.
Now all I wanted was to scream at Mama and shake her till her head rattled. But of course I didn’t. I didn’t say a word as she and Mr. Pete sang the glories of their new life up north. And neither did Fred Lee. He was as silent as a stump.
When Mama got ready to leave, she hugged me and kissed my cheek. She smiled at Ma Pearl and said, “Take good care of my babies, now.” When she tried to hug Fred Lee, he pulled away.
“I’ll write soon as we get settled,” she said. Surprisingly, her voice held a slight quiver.
As Ma Pearl and Papa walked the Chicago-bound family to their train of a car, Fred Lee, with his shoulders hunched and his fists clenched, left the house and headed to God only knew where.
Me? I collapsed in the chair next to the window and peeled back the curtain, my heart breaking when I peered out. Piling into that shiny black car, smiling, Mama and her family looked so happy, as if they had stepped off the pages of one of those Sears and Roebuck catalogs in the corner. And I would’ve torn off my right arm to join them if I could have. I spent six years wishing I could be a part of her and Mr. Pete’s family. Now they were heading to Chicago, leaving my life and Fred Lee’s for good.
I tried to hold back. I had promised myself I would never cry over Mama again. But I couldn’t stop the flood. Tears gushed out before I knew it, racing down my cheeks, rushing over my trembling lips. I hugged my knees to my chest, dropped my head, and sobbed into the folds of my dress, welcoming the tears, urging them to hurry, to flush the pain from my heart. I sat there trembling and sobbing, burying my face in my dress, wanting to block out the world, until the sound of slamming car doors jolted me to my senses.
My tightening chest reminded me that I couldn’t bear another chastisement from Ma Pearl for wearing that tear-soaked dress in her pristine parlor. I gave my face a final swipe, sprang from the chair, and fled to the back room to release my tears in private.
Chapter Three
MONDAY, JULY 25