The House of Eve (46)
“You can’t be here.” Her voice was high-pitched.
“Juney sent us. We have an appointment,” Aunt Marie explained.
“Juney must ain’t heard. White girl died last night on the table. Bled to death. People asking questions. Business gone cold.”
My eyes grew big and a chilly sweat sprouted up and down my back. I didn’t want to risk dying just to get rid of the thing. What was the point in that? I was ready to bolt, but Aunt Marie grabbed hold of my shoulder and pushed me forward.
“She ain’t that far along. I’m sure this one be fine.”
The woman called Leatrice shook her head. “Can’t risk going to jail for nobody.”
“Secret safe wit’ me and I have cash. Please,” Aunt Marie’s voice pleaded. “I can pay extra,” she said, which worried me, because I knew that she was having a tough time with the numbers business shut down. Where would the extra money come from?
Leatrice looked up at the ceiling like she was considering it, then looked me up and down. “Can’t take the chance right now. I’m gonna have to ask y’all to leave.” She took a step forward.
Aunt Marie raised her chest, like she wanted to make a fuss, but then she saw that Leatrice had moved closer to the table. Underneath a newspaper, I saw the barrel of a gun peeping at us. Being a gun-toting woman herself, Aunt Marie dropped her shoulders as she submitted to the implications.
“Come on here, chile,” she said, ushering me back up the steps and back through the house. “We’ll think of something,” she told me once we got back to the bus stop.
As I stepped onto the bus, half of me was relieved that I didn’t have to go through with it, but the other part worried sick over what would come next.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN PAPER AND CLOCKS
Eleanor
Eleanor’s face had grown round and curvy, and two juicy pimples rested on her chin. She snapped open her press compact and dabbed them with Max Factor’s pancake. Then she brushed the face powder over her cheeks and forehead until her skin looked even and smooth. One by one, she removed the pink rollers from her hair, careful to keep the curls twirled with her fingertips. Her floral, royal-blue, ankle-length skirt hung from the back of her closet. She hoped it still fit. In the last week her belly had begun to protrude forward, and she could not resist dropping her palm, letting her baby know that she was still there.
Today was Eleanor and William’s one-year wedding anniversary, and it had been a year filled with firsts. With the help of his parents, they purchased their first home, a three-bedroom in the glitzy Gold Coast section of Northwest D.C. It sat across the street from Rock Creek Park, and was a mere fifteen-minute walk from the house that William grew up in, despite Eleanor’s protest that LeDroit Park, a fifteen-minute drive south of the Prides’, would be a better fit and closer to the university. But the Prides had insisted that they live close by, and William agreed, so she had no choice but to smile and acquiesce.
The newlyweds had survived their first big blowup, spent their first Thanksgiving in Elyria with her parents and enjoyed a whole 365 nights of spooning in the same full-sized bed, in spite of Rose’s suggestion that they buy separate twin ones. The couple had relished fifty-two Sunday mornings with the Washington Afro-American newspaper between them, until their coffee went tepid. Followed by a romp between their sheets filled with carnal pleasures so somatic that they needed a nap afterward.
It had been the best year of Eleanor’s life. She delighted in waking up first to watch the way William’s eyelids skipped up and down while he slept, savored the way his breath smelled of her after sex and hungered for the taste of his fingers in her mouth. Eleanor loved the feel of his socked feet covering hers under the breakfast table while they ate, and the warmth of his arms circling her back when they kissed, the smile of gratitude on his face each time she handed him his homemade lunch and the sound of his footsteps hurrying to reach her when he returned home each night. Married life delighted her. But tonight wasn’t a celebration of their elation.
What their first year of marital bliss had earned them was another night at a premium table in a big fancy hall at yet another one of Rose Pride’s must-attend affairs. As Eleanor painted her upper lash lines and fanned out her lashes, she couldn’t remember if the event was for the ABCs, the Boules or the Links. With such plentiful invitations, they had all started running together in her mind. She did remember that Rose was being honored tonight for something or other, that was why despite it being their anniversary, William had insisted that they go.
“For Mother’s sake.” He had caressed her collarbone that morning, and then reminded her to send over a bouquet from Lee’s Flower Shop.
It wasn’t easy for Eleanor to keep track of the social calendar that Rose insisted on while still finishing her degree at Howard. She had taken extra credits over the summer and only needed a few more to graduate, but balancing the pregnancy, the new house and her studies was a struggle. As a result, she had only seen Nadine a handful of times, and she felt guilty about breaking her promise to keep in touch after she was married.
Eleanor was trying to latch the clasp of the gold tennis bracelet William had given her for her birthday when she heard his car pull into the driveway. He whistled to himself as he came through the side door and walked up to the bedroom.