The House of Eve (39)

“You don’t care because you don’t have to, Shimmy. You live in a beautiful safe bubble, and the world says I don’t belong there.”

“So, we are taking our cues from the world now? What about how we feel about each other? It shouldn’t matter what anyone thinks.”

“She called me a nigger to my face,” I said between my teeth. Shimmy grimaced like the word had stabbed him in the throat.

After a minute, Shimmy reached for me again. His comforting scent of Old Spice calmed me and I relented. His tight embrace gave me the permission I needed to release the tears I had been holding on to all day. When it was just the two of us in this car, I felt safe. The car was our world.

“I’m scared, you know. This country is crazy.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“Until you can’t.” I pulled back against my seat. “Don’t you know it’s against the law for us to be together? What if your father finds out? Or Mr. Greenwald? They’ll have my black behind, not yours.”

His face looked tormented. “They aren’t like that and things are changing, Ruby. You aren’t the only one who reads the newspaper. Why, just a few months ago the Supreme Court of California found that the law banning interracial marriages violated the Fourteenth Amendment and struck it down.”

“That’s one state, all the way on the other side of the country.”

“But it’s only a matter of time, and we’ll run away to California if we have to. Stop worrying, will you?”

My fingers trembled in my lap. Shimmy was the sweetest boy I had ever known. He had a big heart and a kind disposition, but it didn’t matter what I said, how many facts I presented, he would never get it. He could not understand what I went through, attending a high school that only had used books with pages missing, and bathrooms that rarely had running water. He had no idea what it was like to go to bed hungry, to turn on the light to find that mice had gnawed through your dinner and left their droppings for you to clean, or to have to kiss your mother’s boyfriend just for carfare to get to a program that might award you a scholarship to college—a scholarship that you needed so you wouldn’t have to spend a life cleaning toilets like your mom. White people’s toilets.

I knew if I didn’t stop this now, I never would. “I gotta go. Take care, Shimmy.” I opened the car door, walked out of the alley and took the front steps two at a time.

My heartbreak pricked against my skin like a consecutive pop from a rubber band. I wanted what Shimmy and I had to be easy. And since that wasn’t possible, I needed my feelings for him to go.

Aunt Marie had brought me a leftover piece of cake from a birthday party at the club, and as I swung open the icebox to retrieve it, there was a bang on the door.

“Shimmy, go home.” I slammed the fridge closed with my foot.

“Let me in.”

Ignoring him, I dipped a fork into the plastic container and brought a corner of the white icing and yellow cake to my lips.

“Please. Don’t leave me out here making a scene.”

The cake tasted like a wet sponge, and I spit it out in the sink.

“Ruby.” He called my name in a way that was like a magnet reaching through the door and pulling on me. My fingers undid the three locks and slid the chain back on the door, seemingly without my permission.

Shimmy’s hat was in his hands. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know how to make this work. All I know is that I can’t live without you. I’m willing to do what it takes.”

He forced his way into the apartment and closed the door behind him. We stood toe to toe, eye to eye.

“I love you, Ruby.”

And then we were kissing.

“I don’t care who knows it.” He held my face with his strong hands gripping my hair. Our mouths kindled when they touched, setting my skin on edge but the voices just got louder.

Nigger.

Stay in your own neighborhood.

Now I need to shower.

You can’t be friends with the likes of her.

I pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Do you know what my mother does for a living? She cleans up after rich white people. What does your mother do?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s a housewife.”

“Which means she doesn’t work. Does she clean your house, or someone comes in to do it for her?”

A deep blush darkened Shimmy’s cheeks.

“A woman with skin like me, I bet.”

He looked away.

“What will your mother say when she realizes that you, her pride and joy, are in love with the help’s daughter?”

“Ruby, we will cross that bridge when we get to it. Why are you trying to sabotage a good thing?”

“We are at the bridge, Shimmy, and it’s best that we get off before someone gets pushed off. Mainly me.”

Shimmy’s eyes were so clear and so sincere and so full of hope. He wanted us to be together, desperately. But the world had shown me that what we wanted didn’t matter.

“It’s for the best, Shimmy. Just go.”

He stood staring at me, but I no longer met his gaze. Then he reached into his pocket, put something on the kitchen table and opened the door without another word.

I listened to his footsteps, watched him through the window as he walked around to the alley and heard his car pull into traffic. The street was empty. I went to the table and picked up the brown paper bag he had left. Inside was an antique hair comb, adorned with garnet rubies.