The House of Eve (3)
“Yeah.”
“On the cheek?”
He reached into his pocket and flipped the quarter in the air with his thumb and pointer finger, caught it and slammed it down on the table. “The lips.”
I shivered.
Leap folded his hands behind his back, squinting his eyes the way I saw him do to Inez when he wanted her to give him some sugar, as he called it. Shame flooded through me. Gulping down my nerves, I willed my feet to move around the chrome kitchen table toward him.
The only thing standing between me and getting to the program on time was a kiss. A measly little kiss. I could do this. When I closed my eyes and leaned up, I could smell a mixture of last night’s whiskey and this morning’s cigarettes reeking from him. I held back my gag.
Leap pressed his thick lips against mine and my knees knocked against each other. In an instant I felt his slimy tongue force my lips open. When I tried to pull away, Leap cupped one hand over my left breast and used the other hand to grab my behind, tilting me up against him. I squirmed but he just held me tighter, thrusting his thing up against my thigh over my skirt.
“Stop,” I whined, pressing my elbows against his waist, trying to free myself. But his grip was unbreakable.
Just then, the front door swung open. Leap stumbled back and pushed me away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Inez’s big eyes roved between us like a madwoman’s.
“What the hell?” she shouted, dropping the brown grocery bag. I heard something crack as it hit the linoleum floor.
Leap backed farther away from me with his hands up, like she was the police. “She came on to me. Talking about needing bus fare. All up on me before I could stop her.”
“Liar,” I hissed. “It was you.”
“Get the fuck out of here.” My mother put her arm in the air like she was firing a warning shot. Soft tendrils from her ponytail had come loose. We shared the same walnut-colored skin tone, but hers had turned apple red.
I turned to Leap, waiting to see how he’d react, glad that my mother was finally taking my side. But then I realized: she was looking at me. She was speaking to me. I was the one she blamed. Her eyes sliced into me like a butcher knife.
“Now! Fast ass.”
I palmed the quarter, and when I got to the front door, she pushed me in the back of my head. “Got no business all up in my man’s face. Stay in a child’s place.”
She slammed the door behind me so hard that the impact shook the hinges. I stumbled down the steep steps, reaching for the banister to catch myself from falling. Once outside I tried to shake the whole scene from my mind, but I kept feeling Leap’s fingers clawing me, kept feeling Inez’s fury burn my chest, as I ran the three blocks to the bus stop.
About a half block away, I could see the bus pull over to the curb, and I ran faster, pumping my knees under my skirt as my bag slapped hard against my hip. I called out, waving my hands to get the driver’s attention. A few feet away, the door cranked closed, but I was near enough to bang on the metal siding with my fist.
“Please, wait!” I hollered.
But the bus driver pulled away from the curb like he didn’t hear me. Like I didn’t matter. Like I didn’t exist. I hurled my schoolbag to the ground, then bent over and spit the overwhelming taste of Leap from my mouth.
CHAPTER TWO Washington, D.C., October 1948
THE LINE
Eleanor
Eleanor bustled across Howard University’s campus, clutching the letter in her right hand. The return stamp was crested with the Alpha Beta Chi emblem, so she knew it was what she’d been waiting for: a response to her interest letter to join the sorority.
She had watched the girls move about campus with prominence all of last year. They were glamorous, always with their matching lavender scarves, tight knit sweaters, sleek high heels and glossy curls. They did meaningful work, like organize mobile book drives for children in the rural South, draw picket signs to support Mary Church Terrell in her tireless fight to end segregation in public accommodations and collect food for the poor. But most importantly, they were the baddest steppers on the yard. When they twirled their pretty heads, called out, stomped and clapped, everyone stopped at attention. While there were other sororities on campus, it was clear that the ladies in silver and lavender were the pinnacle of the pile, and Eleanor, now a sophomore and finally eligible, was eager to join them.
She moved across the lawn, careful not to walk over students studying or relaxing on the grass between classes, and dodged up the steps to her dormitory, accidentally trampling on a young man’s boat-sized foot.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she shouted over her shoulder as she hastened down the first-floor corridor to her room on the left.
Her heart was beating fast with anticipation, and she tried to steady herself by placing the letter over her chest. This had to be her invitation. The one that would change her life. Make her shiny instead of dull. Popular instead of overlooked. A part of a vibrant group instead of plain and solo.
She did not know where the funds would come from for her initiation fees; after all, the money for books and supplies for the past three semesters had bled her parents dry. But the details didn’t matter. She’d figure it out. Eleanor’s fingers shook as they slid under the flap of the linen envelope, loosening the glue on the seal. A matching piece of stationery slipped into her hand.