Take My Hand(37)

“Yes.”

“Then why not call?”

“It’s been decades, Ty. You’re interrogating me like it was yesterday. Why ask me all these questions now?” As I say these words, I quietly admit to myself that it is not possible to mend the hurt at this point in our lives.

“The past doesn’t work that way. You can’t just make it disappear. You can’t pretend certain things didn’t happen.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

He looks right at me. “Did you ever tell anyone, Civil?”

“Tell anyone what?”

“Come on, woman. Do you think about our baby?”

How could I ever forget the day I climbed up on that woman’s bed and she hurt me with those tools? The memory has haunted me at times.

“You were so closed down about it, Civil. I worried when I heard you never married.”

I wonder how many women have the opportunity to complete this kind of circle, to talk to the father of a mistaken pregnancy some forty years later. “No, I never told anyone. Did you?” I whisper.

He nods. “Of course. I told my wife.”

“That was between us, Ty.”

“Yes, it was. But it was not a secret to be borne a lifetime. Civil, how could you have never told anyone?”

I shrug, but the tears escape anyway. In Ty’s office, beneath fluorescent lights, I begin to cry openly and I feel as if I’m one of his students. He presses a tissue into my hand. “Civil. Civil.”

I awkwardly dab the tissue against my face. Neither of us reaches for the other, and I’m grateful for the space. I allow myself to sit with my regret. So much regret. So much.





TWENTY




Montgomery

1973


The morning it happened, I received the letter from the doctor that India was eligible for admission to the school. Erica had already started summer school and, despite her elevated age among her peers, she was loving it. I’d gone home for lunch after dropping off one of my patients, a woman by the name of Frida who had no children and had reached out to us because she intended to keep it that way. I left her with three months’ supply of pills and a box of rubbers.

“Why are you looking so happy?” Mama asked me.

It was one of those rare days Mama wasn’t painting. She had dressed in a real outfit that suggested she was going out.

“India got into a school. I’m going to go deliver the news to her after I get off work today. Do you want to come with me? You could see their apartment and all the stuff your money bought.”

She tied a small scarf around her neck, then untied it as if changing her mind. Montgomery was pleasant in June, but the weather was still hot.

“And the other sister?”

“She’s in summer school. I was thinking about tutoring her.”

“Tutoring?”

“Yeah, why not? I could do it on weekends when I’m not working.”

“Baby girl, I just hope you know that no matter how much you do, God has dealt that family an awful hand.”

That was the same thing Val had said. Both of them were wrong, though. Some things couldn’t be changed, but this case was different. “Don’t say that, Mama. Look at how much happier they are now they’re in that apartment. That’s because of you.” I kissed her on the cheek and looped an arm around her shoulders. “You want to go over and see the apartment with me?”

“Lord, child, no. Those people got enough folk running in and out of their lives gawking at them. They are not a sideshow.”

I nodded. She was right, and I was embarrassed that I had even suggested it. I really just wanted to spend time with her.

“Now, I’m going to need my car today. You got to drive your own car sometimes. I’m going to lunch with Louise and I’d never hear the end of it if I picked her up in that fire-engine-red car of yours.”

“Tell her I said hello.” I passed the keys to her.

The screen door slammed shut behind her, and I cleared my dishes off the table. The clock over the kitchen sink ticked loudly. Dixie Court was in the opposite direction of the clinic, but I had a little time. I considered dropping by the Williamses’ apartment and telling India the news before going back to work. It was going to be too hard to keep this to myself all afternoon long. We had worked so hard, and I knew the girl was probably just hanging around the house all day with her grandma now that Erica was in school. I decided it was better to get to work, but all day I thought about them, watching the clock and waiting for it to hit five so I could head over to Dixie Court.

I will never forget; it was a glorious June afternoon. Sunny, clear skies. In the car, I hummed along with “You Are the Sunshine of My Life.” The windows were down, and I drummed my hand along with the music. Things hadn’t looked this good in weeks. I had a brochure to give India so she could look at the pictures. I hadn’t wanted to show it to her until I was certain she’d passed the test. It was a nice place with an outdoor play yard. St. Jude Church had always welcomed Black folks; they had even founded a hospital that was the first in the region to integrate. But at the moment I was most grateful for the school that nurtured the minds and hearts of children like India. I couldn’t wait to take her for a tour so I could see it myself.

As I walked up the steps to their apartment, the brochure clutched in my hand, I glanced at my watch: 5:47 p.m. I had made it through my cleaning chores and driven over from the clinic in record time. I was breathless, giddy with the news. One of my knee-highs slid down to my ankle. I knocked on the door, then stooped down to pull it back up.