MILDRED

Richard still doesn’t know.

I can’t tell him.

Saturday night,

Daddy and my brothers

are the band

for a square dance

at Sparta School—

the elementary school

where Richard went—

the white school.

Colored people

aren’t allowed in.

Light and music

spill out the open door.

Me and Richard are milling around

with a bigger group of coloreds

outside

where we’re allowed

to listen

and dance

if we want.

Richard and his

car buddies,

Ray and Percy—

and Ray’s girl,

Annamae—

are with us.

Ray, Annamae, and Percy,

being colored,

aren’t allowed in, either.

White guys

with white girls on their arms

say

“Hey” to Richard

on their way in.

He “heys” them back.

Everyone likes Richard.

He says to me,

“Let’s go in.

They won’t mind.”

“We can’t go in there.

I can’t go in.”

I giggle

’cause I think he’s kidding.

But he’s got his arm

around my shoulder

walking toward the door

and he’s a whole lot stronger

than me.

As we step into the doorway

a white man,

maybe the guard,

puts out his hand—

bars our path.

He looks at Richard

and cocks his head at me—

like

that says it all.

I know I’m not allowed,

I feel embarrassed.

HUMILIATED.

I don’t care if I go in.

I don’t like to rock the boat.

“You go in, Richard,” I say,

my voice rising.

“You wanna dance?

You go in.

You wanna listen to the music?

You go ahead.”

I feel my lower lip jutting out.

That’s how I know

I’m angry.

I train myself not to be angry.

So I don’t always know that I am.

Anger takes energy

that I’d rather use

being happy.

But now I’m ANGRY—

and I’m angry

at Richard.

I don’t want to cry,

but I feel my lower lip

trembling—

my face is warning me

that the tears could start

spilling.

Richard knows me well

enough

to know this too.

He pulls me back

out of that lit-up

doorway,

out to where it’s dark,

away from the people.

He puts his

arms around me

and he kisses my eyes

which are salty with

escaped tears.

He says,

“Bean,

Bean, I’m sorry,

but your Daddy is playing in there

and Doochy and Button,

and all of ’em, Theo,

and I thought maybe

they’d let us in.

It was stupid.

I was stupid.

Let’s hang out here.

It’s nicer out here,

in the dark,

anyhow.”

And Richard,

who never ever

dances,

just holds me

and we rock together

taking little steps

and we’re

dancing.

The moment they said,

No, you can’t go in,

he saw—

I know he really saw—

what it is

to be colored.

It’s true—

when we go to movies

we have to sit up in the balcony.

But this is different.

YOU CANNOT

COME IN

HERE.

We walk to where

the car is,

climb into

the backseat

with no one around.

I tell him.

I tell him everything.

He’s gonna find out anyway.

I cry while I tell him.

His face folds up

He steps out of the car.

I wail.

He’s gone what feels like

forever

in the dark.

I’m in the car whimpering.

He comes back.

Drives me home.