The House of Eve (49)

He took one look at my blood-drained face and puffy eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t look at him. My plan was to take care of this on my own, not burden him with it. Shimmy had enough going on keeping up with his college work and running back here on the weekends to help out his family.

“What can I do?” He touched my arms. “Do you need something from the pharmacy?”

A wave of nausea came over me and I reached for my knees. I wished that a few drops of Mercurochrome from M.D. Pharmacy on Columbia Avenue would make it all go away. If only it were that simple.

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, fighting the sting in my eyes. It seemed that all I did these days was cry and feel bad.

“What?” Shimmy’s voice cracked. “You’re what?”

“You heard me.” I glanced up, and his face had gone pasty white.

He started running his hands through his hair, something I had noticed he did when he was nervous, but I had no energy to comfort him. I walked hunched over to the couch.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of it, but nothing works.”

“How could you’ve let this happen?” Anger rushed his words.

“Me?” I shouted. “Please stop acting like you weren’t there.”

Shimmy sank onto the sofa next to me and dropped his head in his hands. “My mother is going to kill me.”

“Well, my chances of becoming anything but a maid are out the window. I’ll have to kiss Cheyney goodbye.” My voice quivered with frustration. I had ended up just like Inez after all.

Shimmy sat next to me as still as a statue, and I wanted to reach over and shake him. I didn’t know what to expect now that he knew the truth about my situation. My heart wanted to believe that we were in this together, but Inez’s story made me painfully aware of how easy it was for men to just walk away. My father jumped town, and he was the same color as me. I could expect even less from a white boy.

“But you don’t have to concern yourself. This is my problem and I’ll handle it,” I said. “You should go.”

Shimmy turned toward me. “Ruby, I’m not leaving you to handle this alone. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Comfort washed over me as he put his arm around my shoulders and embraced me. I blinked back the tears and offered hoarsely, “Aunt Marie’s working on another lead in Delaware. She’ll let me know tonight. I’m sorry, Shimmy.”

“Like you said, I was there, too.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “We’ll get through it.” Then he stood abruptly. “I hate to leave you like this but I gotta run.”

“So soon?”

Now that everything was out in the open with him, I didn’t want to be alone, and hated the desperate sound of my voice. I was afraid that if he left, he’d never come back.

“My pop is in the hospital. His legs swelled up really bad and the doctor said something’s wrong with his liver.”

“How long will you be around?”

“I don’t know. Ma is falling apart, and the kids need me.”

I needed him.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He leaned down and pecked me on the cheek.

After a few minutes passed, I stood and locked the apartment door. I searched for something to soothe me, so I put on my apron and started to paint. I needed to disappear into Ruby Red’s World, my personal sanctuary where I had control of everything, and stay there. Forever.



* * *



Aunt Marie, Fatty and I had worked out a schedule to care for my grandma Nene. Since I was on break from We Rise for the summer, my Saturdays were free to help out more.

“?’Bout time you got here,” Fatty said, meeting me at the door, repositioning her pageboy wig.

“What you talking about, you ain’t even got to work today.”

“Still got things to do. Running to the avenue to do some shopping and then I’m meeting a friend for a drink. Be back this evening.” Fatty grabbed her purse, dropped in a tube of lipstick and was out the door.

The kitchen sink reeked from the overflowing dishes, and the trash smelled of musty collard greens. Even though it burned me up when Fatty left her mess for me to clean, there was a comfort in being back in the apartment where I’d spent the first eight years of my life. It was only a two-bedroom, and I had shared the back room with Fatty.

I crushed a cockroach with my shoe and made my way to Nene’s room. She was in her rocking chair, padded with three pillows so it would be easy for her to get up. Her curtains were pushed open, and I could see the paint-chipped houses across the street and their rusted gutters.

“That you, sweetness?” Nene called to me.

“Mm-hmm. How you feeling today?”

“Oh, just dandy.”

She had her family quilt pulled over her lap even though it was hot. Her nightgown was worn thin, but she insisted on one of us washing it by hand so that she could wear it daily. During the day, she perched sunglasses up over her nose, which I didn’t understand since she couldn’t see. A baseball game crackled from her rickety radio, and I reached over and fumbled with the dial.

“Gon’ fix my hair?”

“I can. Let me get the comb and grease.” I pulled out the right-side drawer where she kept her bobby pins, hair combs, oils and supplies. Nene had a slight smile fastened to her face as she listened to the game. I stood behind her and she rested her head against my belly as I raked the comb through her white brittle hair.