The House of Eve (78)
The man finished by listing all of Dr. Drew’s accomplishments, and then the room opened up in applause while William’s father and his two friends whispered back and forth to each other.
“Rumors are still flying around about Drew’s death. I think it was confirmed that the car accident happened in a sundown town.”
One of the men sucked his teeth. “Driving in the rural South is detrimental to any Negro man’s health.”
“You know the way segregated hospitals are. I heard they put him in a ward and left him unattended.”
William’s father leaned in. “My colleague said it was Duke. When they got Drew to the hospital, they were told that they couldn’t admit Negroes and that he’d have to go across town to the for Coloreds only hospital.”
“He was denied the blood plasma that he helped develop? Now, that don’t make no sense.”
“They must think that all Negroes are second-class folks.”
“His life was snuffed out because he was Negro… The hospital had plasma, but it was labeled ‘white only,’?” William added as Don Shirley concluded his song and took a bow.
Waiters carrying baskets to collect donations floated around the room. Duke Ellington walked onstage, followed by his twelve-piece band. They played while dinner was being served. Dinner was Eleanor and William’s cue to leave. Rose looked across the table and gave Eleanor a nod.
“I think I better excuse myself. The baby is just not agreeing with me right now.”
“Oh, Eleanor, we understand. We’ve all been there,” said Rose’s friend, whose name eluded her.
“We better go,” William said, putting down his napkin.
“Oh son, I’d hate for you to miss saying hello to Minnie Drew and catching up with the family. Lewis is outside with our car. He can drive Eleanor home. I’m sure Eleanor won’t mind,” Rose said with a lightness to her voice.
This was not a part of their plan. The whole table was looking at Eleanor. She wanted William to come home with her; they had not spent quality time together in so long. But how could she go against Rose publicly? She was cornered.
“Darling, your mother is right. I’m just going to lay down. You stay and enjoy yourself and mix with your old friends. I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, and she thought she saw a quick flash of relief wash over his face.
“Of course.” Eleanor took his arm and allowed him to help her from the table. As they passed through the doors, Eleanor looked up to see none other than Greta Hepburn gliding in wearing a dress that clung to her like a second skin.
* * *
When William came home much later, Eleanor could smell the after-dinner brandy that he had probably shared with the men around the bar. He reached for her, but she moved her shoulder and settled deeper into her pillow, pretending to be asleep. Eleanor couldn’t remember the last time they had been intimate, but she was too angry to feel aroused. William didn’t push it. He rolled over to his side of the bed. Once Eleanor heard him snore, she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, wondering why he had not tried harder for her affection. She looked over at her husband, watching as his chest rose and fell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SILENCE THE LAMB
Ruby
For my seventeenth birthday, I spent the morning on my bruised knees scrubbing the floors and repenting for my sins. After dinner, we watched a movie called Come to the Stable, a comedy drama about two French religious sisters who went to a small New England town and got the people to help build a children’s hospital. It was better than nothing. Gertrude, the acne-faced lifer who was charged with making popcorn, conveniently ran out when it got to us girls from the attic.
Before we were sent to bed, a chocolate cake with candles appeared on the round dining table, and I was floored when Kitchen Sister Kathleen suggested that everyone sing “Happy Birthday” to me. It was the sweetest thing that had happened since I arrived at the Gingerbread House, and the tastiest treat I had received. When we reached our attic room, I changed into my nightgown feeling content.
As I lay on my bed clutching the birthday card from Aunt Marie, the baby kicked, and I wondered if Shimmy was thinking of me. Did he even remember that my birthday was November 17? He had sent three letters since I arrived, but they remained unopened in the bottom of my drawer. The only way I could get through this was to block him out completely, and I had done it well until today. All afternoon, I had craved a chocolate-covered pretzel from his fingertips, the sugary smell of our spot in the storage room behind the candy store, the sound of his voice at my ear and the brush of his hands through my hair.
My daydream was interrupted by the sound of Bubbles jerking up from her cot. She turned a light on just as a stream of water gushed from between her legs, dripping onto the floor.
“Are you peeing yourself?” Loretta scooted back on her cot, looking horrified.
“I think my water just broke!” She doubled over her stomach.
“What does that mean?” I asked dumbfoundedly.
In the three months that I had lived at the Gingerbread House, no one had said a word about what happened when a girl went over. The girls would return to the house from the clinic tight-lipped, reluctant to share any details.
“Means the baby is coming.” Bubbles bit her lips.