The House of Eve (24)
“Girl, I pay the rent. Don’t change the subject.”
I looked down at my toes and murmured. “I went to the store.”
“Don’t let your mouth mash the gasoline on an ass whooping. Come again?” She eyed me pointedly.
I swallowed hard. “I was with Shimmy.”
“Shimmy who? Wait—you mean to tell me you were with Shimmy, the landlord’s son?” Her voice thundered. “Girl, you done bumped your head?”
“We’re just friends.”
She took a sip of her drink with her eyes burning into me. “I’ma tell you like this. You done pulled a seat up to a game that your ass can’t win. Cut that shit off now.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“And don’t you leave this house again without my permission, hear? These streets are dangerous for a flowering girl like you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Chile, I ain’t nobody’s ma’am,” she said as the telephone rang. “But I mean what I say.”
I walked to the back and into the tiny bathroom. I didn’t need to use it. I just needed some space to slip into the feeling of Shimmy’s lips grazing my hand and recall that burn, wondering when I’d get to feel so good again.
CHAPTER EIGHT THE INVITATION
Eleanor
True to his word, William had stood waiting outside Ware’s department store at the end of Eleanor’s first day on the job. He had a handful of pink and white lilies and an invitation to dinner. That evening, he kissed her for the first time on a park bench under the glow of the waxing moon, and from that day forward they fell into an easy rhythm. When Eleanor finished her shift at the university library, she’d study alongside him at the same table where she had watched his back for so many months. In between her classes and her double work schedule, William showed her his D.C., with frequent trips to the U Street corridor. They took in movies at the Republic Theatre, ate at all the best restaurants and danced like their bodies were made for each other. Two months had passed like this in an easy, wonderful blur.
Then came Christmas break, and Eleanor couldn’t afford the seventeen-dollar round-trip bus ticket to Elyria, so Nadine invited her to spend the holiday with her family in Petworth, a D.C. neighborhood just northwest of Howard. When Eleanor returned to her dormitory, William was waiting for her once again, this time with a leatherbound book of Phillis Wheatley poems. It was the most thoughtful gift she had ever received.
They spent the rest of the day at his apartment, and between thank-you kisses, and his gentle hands sliding up and down her back, William invited her to brunch at his parents’ house. He had whispered it so casually that Eleanor wasn’t sure she heard him right.
“You want me to meet your parents?” she asked while leaning away, so she could see the expression on his face more clearly.
“What’s wrong with that?” he returned with a sloppy grin.
“Well, suppose they don’t like me?”
“Nonsense.” He ran his finger along the edge of her collar. “They like who I like.”
And now, one week later, they were in his car driving to the Pride residence for brunch, with Eleanor wondering for the umpteenth time if she had dressed well enough to make a good first impression. One of the nice things about her second job at the department store was that she’d managed a few frocks and a pair of calfskin pumps on her discount. With Nadine’s keen eye for fashion, she’d purchased a secondhand wool wrap coat that fell just below her knees. Her lips were painted taffy pink, and her hair was styled in a small bouffant on top with loose curls around her neck. Eleanor had hoped that she looked sophisticated, like the city girls she watched on U Street.
William drove north on Georgia Avenue, and then west on Upshur Street heading into what he had referred to as the Gold Coast. Eleanor had never been this far north and noticed that the longer they traveled, the bigger the homes grew, the longer the driveways, and the more perfectly manicured the wide front lawns. He slowed the car when he reached Blagden Avenue, and then pulled into the circular driveway of what looked like a grand English castle.
“Welcome.” He killed the engine, and Eleanor blinked several times, unable to believe her eyes. The place was enormous, and the oversized driveway was filled with several newer-looking cars.
“Is this where you grew up?” She swallowed hard, staring at the house in awe.
“Yeah. My family was one of the first to break the color barrier on the block. Now though, many of the homes are owned by Negro families.”
The house was even more imposing up close. A turret soared from the top-right corner of the roof, and Eleanor could picture young William and his brother playing games of fortress. The front yard was expansive enough to get up a good game of tag.
The slate stairs fanned in both directions, and when they reached the foyer, an older man wearing a gray vest and stark white gloves greeted them with a hearty smile. “Master William. It’s good to see you.”
After a quick introduction, William asked after the man’s son.
“Hitting the baseball like he’s the next Satchel Paige.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” William clapped the man on the shoulder and then handed him Eleanor’s coat.
“You look lovely,” he whispered, taking in her deep burgundy frock, with puffed shoulders and a high-waisted top. Eleanor squeezed his hand while hoping the butterflies in her stomach would subside. She had not felt this nervous in a long while. Even though she had known that William’s family was much more well off than hers, she’d had no idea that he was white-folk rich.