The House of Eve (23)

“Rested? Lucky. As soon as I got home from my program, my aunt Marie put me to work doing Saturday chores.”

“Yeah, we take a break from anything laborious on Saturdays, but Ma makes me do my chores on Sunday before I go to work at Greenwald’s.”

“Bet you aren’t washing the walls,” I joked, my hands still a little achy.

“No, but I definitely have to clean my room and mow the lawn.”

He had his own room and a lawn that needed mowing. I slept on Aunt Marie’s lumpy pullout couch while I waited for my mom to let me come back home, where she shacked up with her latest boyfriend.

“I’m glad you came, Ruby. I like talking to you. You’re different.”

“Never had a Negro friend before?” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

Shimmy’s eyes drifted to the ceiling like he was searching for the right words. “It’s more than that. You just have this confidence about you. I feel easy around you, like I can be myself.”

Those words touched me in the center of my chest.

“Plus, you know music almost better than me.”

I turned to face him. “When you played ‘Rock and Roll’ at the candy shop, I almost lost it. How did you even get that record into the jukebox?”

“It was just there, probably an accident. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Greenwald doesn’t have it removed. He says that music is immoral and poison.” He imitated the older man’s voice and we both laughed.

“He doesn’t want me playing it, but I do when he’s not there.”

“You do things you aren’t supposed to a lot?” I watched his jawline tighten as he shook his head.

“I have a younger brother and sister, so Ma depends on me to be the man in the house when Pop’s not around.”

“I’m an only child.”

“That must be lonely.”

I shrugged. “I’m used to it. Plus, I grew up with an older cousin, Fatty. She was always dragging me into her stuff.”

“So, you have a wild side.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” We both giggled.

The music rose and fell, and we talked so much that we hadn’t notice when it finally came to a stop.

Shimmy noticed it first. “Must be intermission.”

We were silent for a minute, but it was a nice type of silence. Eventually, I asked Shimmy what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“An accountant, like my pop’s brother. He’s been grooming me, showing me things. I won’t be as rich as you once you’re a doctor,” he teased me.

“Gotta get that scholarship first. It all starts from there.”

“You will. Can’t imagine anyone in your program being half as bright as you.”

“You’re sweet.” We looked at each other at the same time. Our eyes clung again, and it felt so intimate, like a kiss. His fingers grazed mine on the seat between us, and then he left his hand there with our pinkies touching.

After what felt like ages, Shimmy glanced at the clock on the dashboard, breaking the trance.

“Damn it. I better head back. Ma will shout feh! if I get home after ten,” he said, waving his fist.

“I bet that means she’s pissed.”

Shimmy nodded.

“I’m getting in the back seat, just to be safe.”

“You worry too much.”

“Feh!” I smiled. “You don’t worry enough.” I reached for the handle.

“Good one. The accent is perfect. Next time wave your fist,” he said. “Stay right there.” Shimmy got out of the car, walked around the front and opened the door for me. I stepped out into the night air. My whole body felt alive in a way that I hadn’t experienced before.

“Thanks for coming.” He took a step closer to me. A breeze passed between us, fresh and crisp. Shimmy reached for my hand and brought it gently to his lips and kissed it. I could feel electricity move through my belly, and then the sensation shot all the way up to the tips of my ears.

“I had a nice time.” My voice came out raspy. We were still holding hands. I was holding hands with a boy. With Shimmy.

“Me too,” he whispered, and then he lifted the seat for me and helped me into the car.

We drove back to the neighborhood in silence. The memory of the wet imprint from his mouth still on my skin.



* * *



After Shimmy dropped me off back in the alley, I replayed every moment of our time together. When I pushed opened the door, I was shocked to see that Aunt Marie was not at Kiki’s working. She was sitting on the sofa dressed in her muumuu, going over her numbers pad.

“Where you been?” Her voice was hard around the edges.

She had a quarter glass of golden liquor next to her, and a pencil tucked behind her ear. The baseball game was broadcasting from her transistor radio. The Memphis Red Sox pitched against the Detroit Stars.

I stood there dumbstruck while she turned down the volume. “And why you coming in here all sneaky and smiling? Like a Cheshire cat.”

“I was—”

“With a boy, from the looks of it. Just ’cause you staying here with me, don’t mean you can come and go as you please. Who is it?”

“Why you not at Kiki’s?”