Take My Hand(29)

“I don’t know when you planned to move in, but, as you can see, there are a few things to attend to.”

Mace left us and walked through the apartment, moving more swiftly than I’d seen him move yet. I peeked in the kitchen. A narrow galley. Yellow appliances and more of the same linoleum floor. A kitchen window overlooked the courtyard. I imagined yellow curtains, something like the shade of Mrs. Lacey’s dress.

“Are utilities included with the rent?” I asked.

“Oh yes, everything is included except a telephone. If they want a telephone, they’ll have to pay for that themselves.”

I smiled. It would be nice if they had a telephone so I could call and check on the girls.

Mace appeared in the doorway. “What we got to do?” he asked. I could tell from the rushed sound of his breath that he was already attaching to the place.

“You got to fill out the application. I brought it with me.”

Mace took it from her, turned to the last page, and scrawled out a big X at the bottom. When he handed it back to her, she nodded awkwardly.

“I’ll make sure they get it back to you, Mrs. Lacey,” I said, taking it from her again.

When we were back outside, she turned to Mace. “If everything goes alright with the paperwork, you can stop by and pick up the keys. I’m in that office every day. Just holler if you need me, hear?”

She smiled warmly at us, turned on her heels, and started back toward the office.

Mace grabbed my hand. His touch surprised me. “Hey, Miss Sybil. You think maybe you could take me to see them jobs people on Monday?”

I had to work Monday, but I found myself nodding. “Course I can. But my name is Civil. With a v.”

He just grinned.





SIXTEEN





The move took two weeks. Ty recruited two of his fraternity brothers to help him and Mace pick up the stuff from Goodwill. Alicia and I called ourselves being decorators, poring over blankets and sheets as if we were shopping for rich folks. I even walked through the farm shack, trying to sift through what could be salvaged. Mrs. Williams seemed eager to leave behind most of the old things. “Leave it,” she said more often than not. The only thing she seemed to be especially attached to was her rocker. When we finished, the shack still had enough stuff in it for the next family. Even though Mr. Adair had fired Mace, we were all pretty sure he would eventually let the place out to some other family down on their luck. That was just the way things were in Alabama.

We did all that we could to spruce up the apartment at Dixie Court. Alicia lined the kitchen drawers with contact paper, carefully slicing the edges with a utility knife. Mace wired the lighting and hung the ceiling globes. I found a chandelier for the dining alcove that was missing just one of its crystals. A clean fabric sofa with a carved wooden frame. Glass coffee table. Mama painted red roses on two white end tables. We found decent-quality mattresses and frames for their beds. There was no money for headboards, but I did find a solid wood chest of drawers. They would not have clothes all over the floor anymore. In the girls’ room, two single beds. A dresser to share. A faded but clean green rug. Sheer white curtains covered in butterflies. After living in that shack for so many years, I wanted the family to be able to have company over.

Alicia and I could not find a full set of matching dishes at Goodwill, so Mama contributed a set we’d hardly ever used. She’d carefully covered each dish in newspaper so nothing would be broken in transport. When Mrs. Williams unwrapped the dishes, I could tell from the look on her face she didn’t want to use them.

“They’re made to eat off of, Mrs. Williams,” I said.

“Mace so clumsy. He might drop and break them.”

“You got rugs to help with that.”

The idea of her not using the dishes bothered me. I wanted her to enjoy every moment of this new life. Mrs. Williams carefully unpacked the dishes and placed them on a high shelf in the kitchen, using a chair as a ladder. After we covered the old dining table with a vinyl cloth, Alicia convinced her to set the table as if guests were coming to dinner. Mrs. Williams couldn’t resist. The idea delighted her. She took the dishes back out and set four places at the table. We centered a vase of plastic pink roses in the middle.

“Civil, you need anything else?” One of Ty’s frat brothers was chubby with a baby face, but the man possessed a supernatural strength when it came to lifting furniture. His name was Vince and he had worn all white clothing. Crazy self. Miraculously, except for the sweat stains, he remained clean.

Vince leaned against the wall. “How you liked going to school at Tuskegee? I hear them professors strict up there.”

“It was cool.”

“Hey, leave Ty’s woman alone and come help us,” called out the other frat brother as he walked through the room.

“First off, I am not Ty’s woman,” I said when we’d all convened in the living room. Mace watched us from the doorway. I tried to read his thoughts. Alicia sank into Mrs. Williams’s rocker. I mouthed at her to get out of the woman’s chair, and she moved over to the sofa.

“Thank y’all for the help.” I gave Ty and his friends five dollars each. Courtesy of June Townsend.

“Mrs. Williams, let us know if you need us again,” Ty said.

“I will, son. Y’all got to come back and try some of my 7UP cake.” She had wrapped cheese sandwiches in paper and placed a sandwich in each of their fists.