Take My Hand(76)

With all the traffic, the drive to Birmingham took over two hours. When the Ralseys went to the Classic, they left work behind, so I knew better than to bring up the Williams case. In the car we sang along to Natalie Cole, Gladys Knight, and the Jackson 5. Ty did a perfect Richard Pryor impression. Alicia made us play some dumb word game where you had to come up with a word associated with the word before it. Then Mrs. Ralsey started up with “name that tune.” Ty’s daddy was tone-deaf and nobody could guess his songs. Ty passed around Coca-Colas, and we drank until we had to stop and use the restroom. Mr. Ralsey kept driving for a while, careful about where he pulled over. A lot of the gas stations required a key, and if you were Black and asked for it, they claimed the toilet was broken. When they did give you the key, you walked around back to find the toilet a funky mess.

When we arrived in Birmingham the Ralseys went to find their friends while Ty, Alicia, and I asked around about the start time of the parade. Ty wanted to find his fraternity brothers, but he refused to split up, taking both of our hands. “Come on, y’all.”

My spirit opened up when I heard the echo of drums, sniffed the salty scent of pork sausage. The tin of a radio blasted the air. People walked around in full-on color. Black. Gold. Blue. White. Red. Pink. Green. I smoothed my hand down the front of my sweater, feeling chunky in my blue denim bell-bottoms. They were too long for me and grazed the ground. Afros. Halter tops. Beret-wearing revolutionaries. The crowd was a medley. Old and young. Families and couples. With fourteen historically Black colleges across the state, the bowl was a mecca.

We watched the parade for a while, cheering as the bands marched by, but I was too short to see. I ran into two nursing students from Tuskegee who briefly mentioned the Williamses and gave us a Black Power fist pump. Alicia said she was hungry, and Ty relented. He unfolded three chairs and brought us plates of chicken wings and potato salad. The wings were drowned in hot sauce, the potato salad soupy with mayonnaise. Alicia slurped lemonade. Ty finished his beer and said he’d be right back. Alicia opened up her tote bag.

“I have a new case.” She showed me a folder. “A young lady out in the country.”

“Damnit, Alicia. Why you bring that?” I could not take my eyes off the file.

“Fourteen years old. Two babies. Refuses birth control for religious reasons.”

“You can’t change them folks’ mind.”

“But I got her to try the pills. Finally convinced her. And guess what. After all that, they made her sick.”

I grew still, then reached for the folder. “Have you tried changing it?”

“Yup. Tried a couple of different pills.”

I read through the notes. The teenager was already caring for three younger sisters by the time her babies were born. Now she had dropped out of school. Don’t read any more, I told myself. Don’t read any more. But if someone didn’t intervene, this girl’s destiny was fixed.

“What’s Mrs. Parr saying about it?”

“She wants me to keep talking to the girl. We got limited options here, so I’m just working within that.”

I closed the file. “Why are you showing this to me, Alicia? What’s the point?”

“I just wanted to get your opinion.”

“My opinion? I don’t work there anymore. And I don’t exactly have a great track record with opinions.”

“That’s not true, Civil. You got a gift.”

“Gifts? Did I hear gifts?” Ty clapped his hands as he approached. His eyes glistened, as if he had downed a couple more beers.

“Now, don’t get too excited, Civ. My part-time job at the university only pays $1.60 an hour,” he said. Ty had recently started working as a resident adviser in the freshman dorm. He seemed unsure of what to do next in his career. Daddy had questioned a future with Mace, who had likely never had the luxury of time to “think things through.” Daddy judged the man, but it did not seem fair to question Mace’s future when the word future held a different meaning for him.

Alicia opened the tote at her feet and took out two wrapped gifts.

“For me?”

“Isn’t your birthday tomorrow, crazy girl?” Ty said.

“Looks like you wrapped it yourself.”

His gift for me was the size of a men’s shirt box. Images of Christmas trees covered the red paper. Typical Ty. Once, when we were thirteen years old, he’d wrapped two Mounds bars in newspaper and put them on my desk at school. The newspaper ink had been damp and smudged onto my fingertips. The chocolate bars were melted, but I still ate them. I held the box out in front of me, recalling all the times Ty had given me goofy little gifts.

“Open mine first,” Alicia said.

I could tell from the shape and weight of her box that it was a book. She kept looking at it in that nervous way givers had when they were worried what you would think of it.

I tore off the paper. “I didn’t expect this.”

“It’s not meant to be pressure. Just a little inspiration,” Alicia said quickly.

“Naw, I’d say that’s definitely pressure,” Ty said.

I turned the book over. MCAT: A Study Guide. It was the kind of gift my daddy might give. I didn’t know how to respond.

“Well, say something.”

“I don’t know what you mean by this.”