Alicia Tilman left the clinic in downtown Chesapeake, fighting back tears of panic. First hurdle: tell Daddy.
She ducked into a phone booth and sealed the door tightly behind her, cutting the traffic noise to a subdued whoosh. She took several deep breaths as she checked the street outside. The clinic was not far from her father’s medical building, where he practiced oral surgery. It would be just her luck to run into him on his way out to lunch, but she saw no sign of his signature 1968 Volkswagen Beetle.
Her father insisted on keeping that Bug, though the last time Alicia looked, the odometer read right around 5,350—the number of miles driven past the 100,000 mark. Unconcerned, Ben Tilman had said that if his Bug were to break down, he would just buy another. He refused to give up a practical car for something fancier until his children completed their educational pursuits. Then he might consider a little self-indulgence; maybe even his dream car: a snazzy, brand-new, cherry-red Porsche. But for now, no sacrifice was too much for Alicia and her younger brother Benny.
“Oh, Daddy,” moaned Alicia. A knot formed in her throat as she dialed. After a cheerful greeting, Ben’s receptionist, Sylvia, put her right through.
“Hey, Apple, how’s my Radcliffe girl doing today?”
“I’m okay, Dad,” said Alicia, trying to match Sylvia’s bubbly tone.
“I’ve been telling every patient who comes through this door how proud I am of you, the first Tilman to make it to the Ivies!”
Alicia swallowed. “You’re not coming home tonight, right? You’re heading directly to the airport?”
“Yes, I’ll be leaving shortly, but the conference only lasts one day. I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
“Okay, well, I wanted to tell you . . . uh, I just wanted to tell you that I love you before you leave.”
“I love you, too, Apple. You sound a little down. Is everything all right?”
“Sure. But Daddy, I love you, okay? Always remember that, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
Alicia quickly hung up and collapsed in sobs.
Alicia arrived home around two o’clock that Tuesday afternoon, amidst dark clouds and scattered showers. It had been a couple of hours since she had spoken to her father, but her normally bright eyes were still as watery as the weather. The former South High homecoming queen trudged past her father’s abundant rose garden into a sprawling ranch-style house in the fashionable Poplar Ridge section of town. Next hurdle: sneak past Mama Tilman.
Marjorie Tilman, now in her late fifties, permanently lived at the Tilman home. As Alicia skulked past the living room on the way to her bedroom, her grandmother appeared in the hallway.
“Good afternoon,” she said, studying first Alicia’s face and then her blouse. “Something is troubling you. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing, Mama Tilman, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Alicia, smiling in an effort to be convincing.
“All right, in that case I have something to discuss with you. Would you please join me in my room?”
Alicia followed Mama Tilman, wondering whether her savvy grandmother already sensed what Alicia had learned just that morning. Once they were in her room, Mama Tilman appeared calm but stern, and told Alicia to open her blouse.
“Mama Tilman, why?”
“There is something I need to demonstrate to you, Alicia. Hopefully when I’m done, you will get the point.”
Alicia bit her lower lip as she unfastened the buttons. Mama Tilman found a quarter on her dresser and instructed Alicia to squeeze her breasts together. After Alicia complied, Mama Tilman placed the thin part of the coin in Alicia’s cleavage and withdrew her fingers.
“That quarter has not moved a fraction of an inch,” said Mama Tilman. “If it had dropped to the floor, you could get away without wearing a bra. But you’ve grown too big, young lady, to go around town bouncing all over the place. You have the gift of beauty, and you only cheapen it when you don’t wear a bra. Your father has worked too hard to build a reputation for this family. Please don’t spoil it by reflecting poorly on yourself, your mother, or him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Alicia, relieved. She had never gone braless during school, like the hippie girls, but that summer she had occasionally ventured into the world of liberation, and no one had seemed to notice—until now. She buttoned her blouse, avoiding eye contact.
“You are certain you’re going to Radcliffe, right?” asked her grandmother. “Is that what’s worrying you? I know you were excited about those West Coast schools. If you’re going to change your mind about Radcliffe, don’t wait until the last minute to tell your parents.”
“Oh, no, Mama Tilman, I’ll be going to Radcliffe for sure. It has a good economics program like the others, but it’s closer to home. Besides, it’s too late to change my mind. I’ve committed to Radcliffe.” Alicia gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek and fled to her room.
Shutting the door behind her, Alicia studied her curves in the full-length mirror on her closet door. All still blossomed in the right places, with no telltale bulge. She removed the band from her ponytail and let her light-brown hair fall below her shoulders. She looked for color in her creamy skin tone, but found none.
A few days earlier, Alicia had realized that her period was long overdue, now two months late. After the first month she had thought nothing of it; she had been late before, and was busy with graduation. She had written off the queasiness she sometimes felt, especially in the mornings, to nerves.
Dickey always used a condom, she thought. I watched him put them on. So how on earth can I be pregnant? When Dad finds out, he’s going to kill me, especially since he told me to stay away from Dickey.
She paced the room, fighting the urge to vomit. I could have dated anybody. Instead I went out with Dickey Samson because he’s cute and popular—and face it, forbidden fruit—and now I’m pregnant. Pregnant! How could I have been so stupid? I should have known that Dickey was just a hound dog, and pushy besides, though I still don’t know why Daddy has such a problem with him. But it was only a couple of times, and he was finished almost as soon as he started. Now how am I going to tell Mom? She warned me about letting things get carried away with boys. She told me to always keep my legs closed tight.
Alicia flopped on her bed and burrowed in as deeply as she could manage, waiting for her mother to come home. She eventually awoke to the sound of voices in the hallway and jolted into a sitting position, wondering how long she had been asleep.
Her mother knocked and entered the room. She eyed Alicia and braced herself against a wall. “What’s wrong?”
Alicia forced herself to stand as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Mommy, something terrible has happened,” she said. “I’m—I’m—I’m pregnant.”
She looked for her mother’s reaction, but saw only confusion.
“Pregnant?” Lines crinkled across Sandra Tilman’s forehead. “You’ve been having sex? Not my daughter. No way. You’re only seventeen! How on earth can you be pregnant?”
Alicia cast her eyes downward, unable to respond.
“Wait a minute,” said her mother, pushing off the wall. She stood to her full five-foot-four height, still imposing even though she was a couple inches shorter than Alicia. “How do you know for sure?”
“I went to the clinic. The doctor assured me there was no mistake. When the result came back positive after the first test, he tested again.”
“How far along are you?”
“Seven weeks. Oh, Mommy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend—”
“Who?” her mother interrupted.
Alicia buried her face in her hands.
“Who?” repeated her mother. “I sure as hell hope you know!”
“Of course I know!” Alicia protested. She paused. “It’s Dickey Samson. Dickey and I, well, we were sort of going out for a while.”
Her mother slumped back against the wall. As Alicia gauged her mother’s reaction, she saw the hurt slowly replaced by a look she would never forget: unfettered rage.
The first slap shook Alicia’s head to the side. Not expecting the blow, she had no opportunity to cover. The next slap, delivered soon after the first and with greater force, knocked her down. Alicia instinctively rolled into a tuck and covered her head with her arms.
“Mommy,” she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” But her apology fell on deaf ears.
Her mother pounced, raising her hands and slamming them down on Alicia’s head. Alicia’s arms took the brunt of the initial blow, but her mother’s flailing palms pounded her face in quick succession. Alicia squealed in agony as she tried to squirm away. Seething, her mother sprang back on top of her and cocked her arms well behind her head, fists clenched. Alicia screamed as her mother readied to unleash a forceful two-handed blow, but her mother’s arms barely moved forward, gripped from behind by overpowering strength.
“Calm down, Sandra, calm down,” said Mama Tilman as she wrestled with her daughter-in-law.
Alicia’s mother struggled to wrangle loose, but she could not escape from the much larger woman, still lean and sinewy from a lifetime of hard work.
Mama Tilman finally grabbed her by the waist and dragged her off Alicia. “Come on, Sandra,” she said. “It can’t be that bad. Tell Mama Tilman what’s wrong.”
Sandra’s face, previously consumed with rage, slowly transitioned to contempt. She narrowed her eyes at Alicia. “Tell your grandmother what you just told me.”
Alicia felt her face, trying to ease the sting. “I’m pregnant by Dickey Samson,” she muttered.
Mama Tilman stared at Alicia, her mouth slack.
“Sandra, is he the son’s boy?”
Receiving a single, emphatic nod, Mama Tilman cringed.
“Alicia, how could you do this to us?” demanded her mother. “Think about your father. The poor man has given you the world. The only direct order he has ever given you was to stay away from that boy!”
“I know. And I’m truly sorry,” said Alicia. “But I wanted to see what was so wrong with Dickey, and one thing just sort of led to another. I know I had no business sleeping with him. That was never my intent. But why was there a problem with Dickey? It can’t be because he’s white. You and Daddy never said I couldn’t date a white boy.”
Her mother turned to Mama Tilman, whose eyes were on fire, her jaw set tight. Alicia feared another attack, this time from her grandmother. She sprang back against the wall.
“If it has to be told,” said Sandra, “you should be the one to do it.”
Mama Tilman dropped her chin and crossed her arms protectively. “Richard Samson Sr. is the boy’s grandfather,” she said, her eyes boring into Alicia’s. “When I was barely fifteen, Richard Samson Sr. raped and beat me. He is your father’s father, which makes him your grandfather. Your father and the boy’s father are half brothers by blood. So now you know what the problem is.”
Alicia shot a glance at her mother, who looked upon her with disgust.
“Tell her everything!” said Sandra. “She thinks she’s so damn grown, sneaking around town and doing as she pleases. Tell her every damn detail!”
Mama Tilman struggled to continue, staring into space. “I wasn’t the first woman in my family to be touched by a Samson man that way,” she eventually said. “The same thing happened to my grandmother, and her mother before her. I never thought it would happen to me, though, not in 1930. I was a twentieth-century girl, and my mother broke the pattern. She left town before they could touch her and married my father. He’s the one your father gets his intelligence from, a Georgia Tilman, but he died early, and we came back.
“Other than Richard Samson Sr., no one on the outside knows. He told me if I said a word, my whole family would be annihilated. I kept my mouth shut because I knew it wouldn’t do any good to say anything back then. I didn’t even tell my mother, but she knew. Yep, she definitely knew.” Mama Tilman fixed Alicia with a sober gaze.
“As I grew older, his threat wasn’t what stopped me from talking. I knew it was idle. But I just couldn’t talk about it. I felt so full of shame and humiliation with that old nasty man knocking me around, humping and grunting, telling me I didn’t matter, that I was nobody, that he had the right to take me just like in slavery. Then to have to bring a child into this world under those ugly circumstances? It was a dehumanizing experience that changed the direction of my life forever—from college-bound to maid service, all in one day. And for your father, you can’t imagine what it felt like to be the bastard son of that man, conceived and born in such a way.
“I told your father everything when he was just a little boy,” she said, nodding at Alicia. “He told your mother because it was her right to know after they were married. But that’s where it’s stayed, because in this town, if we’d identified Richard Samson as Benton’s father, some people would have figured out more. And for those who couldn’t figure out more, they would only have asked questions I don’t want to answer. Your father realized this even as a little boy. He’s guarded our secret, protecting me, his family, and himself from shame and embarrassment.”
Alicia listened in horror. Would they ever have told me if I hadn’t—
“And there’s something else you need to know,” continued Mama Tilman. “Your father never touched a woman until he touched your mother. And believe you me, girl, that wasn’t easy for a healthy, passionate, fine-looking young man. He did that for me. He promised to make children only with a woman he first loved and then married, and to treat that woman like a queen, so your mother would never have to go through what I went through.”
Alicia’s mother moaned as tears ran down her cheeks. Mama Tilman cast fierce eyes on her daughter-in-law before turning them back on Alicia.
“I suffered a long time over what happened to me,” she said. “After I got pregnant, my mother gave me our Tilman family heirloom—the silver freedom teapot that I gave to your mother. My mother wanted to free me of my anger and hurt and pain; but I realized then that I had to free myself. That’s when I knew how I would get even. It would happen through your father. That’s why I never married or even considered a man, just so I could pour myself totally into him. And your father has been working hard his entire life to prove he’s somebody worthy because of what happened to the two of us. When your father graduated from Hampton summa cum laude, and number one in his class, the entire faculty stood up and applauded when they called his name, and you better believe we got respect. Every time somebody calls your father Dr. Tilman, we get respect. Every time your father is written up in the newspaper for something valuable he’s done, we get respect. All your father has ever wanted is respect, but I always wanted that and more, and your father has given it to me. Your father is my vengeance. He’s my freedom from shame. Your father is my redemption.”
Until this. Alicia covered the sides of her face with her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head and rocked from side to side. Mama Tilman’s words had done far more damage than her mother’s blows.
Her mother read her reaction and frowned at the sight of Alicia’s face, now bruised and swollen, as Mama Tilman went to the kitchen for ice.
When they were done tending to her, her mother asked Mama Tilman to stay with Alicia while she made some calls. She eventually returned and sat next to Alicia, wrapping an arm around her daughter.
“This problem is about to get fixed,” she said. “You and I are leaving town on Friday, going to Atlanta. You’re having an abortion on Monday. It can’t happen in Chesapeake or Richmond. We have to keep this quiet for everyone’s benefit. Understand?”
Alicia nodded numbly. Her mother grabbed Mama Tilman and the two women left her alone.
Alicia studied her bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Now she understood the cause of her mother’s wrath. She also understood why her dad never talked about his father, answering her questions on the subject with vague responses. Feeling miserable, she sank back into her bed, her thoughts scattered until they settled back on her father.
Mama Tilman and her mother had always placed him on a pedestal, and others sang his praises, yet to Alicia he was just her wonderful father. She loved him only for that and needed nothing more. She had never fully appreciated his early struggles for success. It all seemed somewhat meaningless to her, having occurred long before her time. But with a new sense of awareness, Alicia elevated her father to the highest possible plateau.
Alicia knew her father loved her dearly, and she ached with love for him. She was his princess, Alicia the Great, the smartest and the prettiest. Now she felt insignificant, stupid, hideous.
Worse, Alicia had dishonored the man who advocated dedicated fathering as a means of elevating the race, who had formed and presided over the Chesapeake Black Fathers Association to organize other likeminded men, and who had practiced what he preached so his children would never fall astray. Worst of all, she had dishonored him with the one person who never should have been allowed to touch her. Alicia understood Mama Tilman’s shame, but she felt it could never exceed her own. After all, Alicia’s was not forced, but caused voluntarily through disobedience, then carelessness, and now, since she knew everything, the ultimate sin—betrayal.
With this realization, Alicia’s problem grew in magnitude. I can’t face Daddy, she thought, regardless of whether he ultimately knows about Dickey and the baby. How can I look in his eyes, knowing that I’ve stomped on everything he stands for? And on top of that, I can’t just kill this baby, in spite of the circumstances. What if Mama Tilman had done that? Then Daddy wouldn’t be around, not to mention me and Benny. And what if this baby becomes a person like Daddy? If I have an abortion I’ll never know. I’d rather go from college-bound to maid service, just like Mama Tilman.
Alicia collected the cash she had received for graduation from South High, thankful she had delayed depositing the money into her bank account.