The school year began with more turmoil than Triacy County had ever known.The integration of Pakersfield High by five students last year had caused a minor ruckus, but nothing in comparison to the large-scale warfare of the second year, with the addition of two dozen Negro students.The Pakersfield Herald called it “an invasion of Negroes,” but in our communities, it was called a step toward equal rights. By the end of the first week of school, seven Negro students and twelve adults had been arrested. There were injuries on both sides, and Wallace, though not a student anywhere, was right in the thick of it all. His picture appeared on the front page of the newspaper. In the picture, Wallace, with an angry scowl on his face, was brandishing a baseball bat, although his target had been conveniently left out of the shot.
Hysteria ruled the county. It spilled over to Plymouth where a night raid resulted in broken windows at our school, and manure heaped across the walkway leading to the main door. Some speculated it was the work of a few young whites, but I didn’t agree because Negro students were being chased home from school by grown men in cars and pickup trucks.We stopped going to school and once again stayed away from town, fearful of what might happen.
Finally, it was decided that all schools in Triacy County would close down for one week while meetings were held to determine a course of action. On that Saturday, Reverend Nelson stood beside Mr. Hewitt, our principal, and bitterly announced to the congregation that desegregation in Triacy County had been temporarily suspended. All Negro students would return to the Plymouth School.
“Separate but equal will be the Triacy County motto for as long as we allow it,” Reverend Nelson said.“I don’t agree with it, and I’m sure most of you don’t, either, but I’m asking you today for just a little more patience. Now, I know you’re all aware of the town meetings we’ve been attending all week, and there were some things said in those meetings that angered me, and probably would have angered most of you. After a while, I had to stop listening and start praying. You know, when you’re talking to God, you can’t hear all the evil that sinners around you are talking. If you don’t believe me, try prayer for yourself. It’s a wonderful thing. I’m gonna turn this particular meeting over to Mr. Hewitt, but before I sit down, I just want to say to you the same thing I said at the town meeting. Before we can hope to have even one drop of harmony in this desegregation process, those ‘white only’ signs must come down. How can we expect black and white children to get along at school when they can’t even drink from the same water fountains where God’s water flows freely?”
We applauded our agreement as Reverend Nelson took his seat and Mr.Hewitt stepped up to the podium. He unrolled his speech and began to read.
“We are all aware of the May, 1954, Supreme Court decision that declared segregation in public schools unconstitutional,” he read.“Therefore, an unconstitutional deed is being perpetrated by the Board of Education and the elected officials of this county.”
People who had never set foot in the Solid Rock Baptist Church before were crowded in.They filled every pew and every inch of standing space. My mother was not one of them, but Crow sat beside me.We had listened intently to the words of the reverend, and now we were trying to concentrate on Mr.Hewitt’s speech.
“We are being asked to take a huge step backwards in our struggle for fairness, ”Mr. Hewitt said, “but this is only a short-term setback. I regret having to say this, but the time is not right for this movement in Triacy County. Aggression on our part can only make a bad situation worse. What the town council has proposed is the completion of the new school here in Plymouth. The way things stand, it is the best possible solution.”
An angry din rose from the pews, and I waited for a Junior Fess or a Hambone to rush up to the podium to set my principal straight, but no one moved. Beside me, Crow lowered his chin to his chest and slowly shook his head.
“Sugar,” he said, “stand up and ask that nigger if he got that shit from them pissant rednecks.”
“No!” I protested.“You ask him.”
“I can’t bring attention to myself, and anyway you know how to ask it better than me.”
For a moment, I just sat there staring at Crow, but as the crowd’s disgruntlement subsided, I rose from my seat. Before I could open my mouth, though, someone else in the church said, “Excuse me, Mr. Hewitt, but was that a decision agreed on by everybody? I mean, did you, the reverend, Deacon Hall, everybody agree?”
Mr.Hewitt looked out over the gathering and nodded his head. “It was the decision of the majority,” he answered solemnly, then rolled his papers and abandoned his speech. “This is their condition for the release of nineteen Negroes being held in the county jail. I’ll listen to any one of you who is willing to sacrifice them for a hope. I, for one, am not willing.”
He waited to see if anyone would step forward to protest.As we left the church, Crow leaned down and mumbled in my ear, “This a messed-up town. Shoulda been called Passivefield.”
Crow remained in Pakersfield, rooming with Melvin and Dorothy Tate. He had made the healing of my wounds a priority. Every day he would pick me up from home or school and take me to Mushy on Echo Road, or to Martha Jean on Motten Street, so that my sisters could treat the gashes on my back. For my sake, Crow and Velman had formed a fragile bond.
Mama knew Crow was in town because I had told her, and because he pacified her with monetary tidbits brought by me or Laura. Once or twice, she had seen his car when he came to pick me up, but she had not gone down to the road to talk with him, and he had not gone up to the house to talk with her.He wanted to, though. I could tell by the way he stared past me and up toward the porch each time he came to Penyon Road.
One afternoon at Skeeter’s house, after Martha Jean was done putting fresh bandages on my back, Crow said, “I don’t guess you been too happy, sugar. I don’t understand yo’mama.The Rozelle I knew was always laughing and full of fun, just like yo’ sister, Mushy. I loved Rozelle once, but she wanted herself a man with light skin and good hair. I know this ain’t got nothing to do with you, but I’d give my right arm if I could go back and change some things.”
I signed to Martha Jean that once upon a time Crow had been in love with Mama. Martha Jean didn’t even smile, just gave him a pitying glance.
“I swear, for the last few weeks, I been trying to understand this shit,” Crow said. “I don’t understand it. I ain’t never heard of no mama doing the kinda things y’all say Rozelle do.”
Crow was obsessed with Mama. He watched our house at night. He didn’t know that I knew, but I did. Sometimes, late at night, I would see his car parked in weeds at the turn of the bend. I don’t think Mama was aware that she was being spied on. She wouldn’t have liked it.
Laura was sitting on the floor playing with Mary Ann and Valerie. Mary Ann could walk now, and she kept moving little blocks from one area of the floor to another. She was teasing Laura by offering the blocks, then taking them away. Laura managed to divide her attention evenly between the sisters. She cradled Valerie and cooed to her; she switched blocks with Mary Ann and giggled with her.
I still thought of it as Skeeter’s house, although it was now occupied only by the Coopers. Skeeter had moved in with Miss Shirley right after Valerie was born. He had done it out of love for his nephew;Velman was easy to love.They were all easy to love. As I watched Mary Ann shift her blocks around, I felt the serenity of the house. Martha Jean also appeared relaxed as she watched her daughter toddle about, but Crow, insensitive to our need, obsessed about Rozelle, until, lo and behold, he talked her up.
She drew our attention by scratching on the screen door, then without invitation, she opened the door and stepped into the room. “I knew you was here, Crow,” she said. “I been waiting on you to come up to the house to see me.What’s taking you so long?”
Crow cleared his throat. “Rozelle, I’m here to look after my daughter. I don’t want you coming in here upsetting her.”
“Shoot!” Mama said. “I can’t upset Tangy Mae. She the one upsetting me.”
“That ain’t the way I hear it,” Crow said.
“How you hear it, baby?” Mama asked, as she swaggered seductively toward the couch where Crow was sitting beside me. “You need to come wit’ me, let me whisper a thing or two in yo’ ear.”
“I ain’t here for none of that, Rozelle,” Crow replied curtly.
Undaunted, Mama winked at him. “You always here for that,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you outside by yo’ car.You hurry up now. I ain’t gon’ wait too long.”
She pranced from the room like a pretty, painted pony, and Crow kept his gaze on her every prance of the way.When she was out of sight, he reached into his pocket, withdrew a match, and stuck it between his teeth. I studied him, wondering if he realized that Mama had not spoken a single word to her daughters or granddaughters.
Crow slowly rose from the couch, and I reached for his arm. “Don’t go,” I said.
“Won’t take but a minute,” he said but I noticed he did not look at me.“I’m just gon’ get rid of her so she don’t come back in here bothering you.”
He was lying, of course. Lust was written all over his face. I turned my head and met Martha Jean’s gaze, as the door opened and closed, delivering my father into the arms of my mother.
Crow came the following day to drive us from school to Mushy’s house, and I rushed to his car before Laura could make her way from the back of the school building where the third-grade classroom was located. As soon as I was in the car, I asked, “Did you screw her?”
Crow laughed. “What kinda question is that for you to be asking yo’ daddy?”
“She’s got the clap, you know.”
The smile vanished from his face, but he held my gaze. “What you know about clap?” he asked.
“Crow, I’m not a little girl.You know what I’ve been doing. I should know something about it.”
He removed the match that had been dangling on his lip.“Shit!” he barked angrily, staring at the match as though it was somehow to blame.“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“I didn’t have time to tell you anything.As soon as Mama came and whistled at you, you went running like some old dog.”
“Watch yo’self!” he snapped.
He meant for me to be quiet, but I could not resist saying, “I am watching myself.That’s why I’m not the one with the clap.”
He glared at me and was about to say something else when Laura came skipping up to the car, then his face softened and he laughed.“Ooh wee,” he said, shaking his head, “you know you got a smart mouth.”
Crow drove us to Echo Road with Laura chattering on and on about how she had spent the day with Edna.“They didn’t have no teacher. And they all came to our room. And we had to share our desk with them. And Edna sat with me all day. And it was fun, Tangy. Is Miss Pearl Edna’s mama? Edna say Miss Pearl her mama and Mr. Frank her daddy. Is they, Tangy?”
“Are they,” I corrected.
“Well, are they?”
Crow stopped the car in front of Mushy’s house, and as I let Laura out, I said, “Tell Mushy to explain it to you.”
We watched as Laura walked the short distance to Mushy’s front door, then Crow said, “When Mushy gets done wit’ yo’ back, send Laura over to Melvin’s to get me so I can drive y’all home.”
“We can walk,” I said.
“I’ll take you.”
“Why? So you can see Mama again?”
“Nah. I don’t wanna see Rozelle. I’ll take you ’cause I wanna make sure you get there awright. Mushy told me yo’ back don’t seem to be doing no good. I don’t want you walking no more than you got to, and I got to run up to Tennessee tonight. It’ll be a few days before I get back through here.”
“Are you coming back?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Did you give Mama any more money, Crow?”
“Yeah. A little.”
“Tarabelle says Mushy is just like Mama. Do you think she is?”
He did not answer right away.He seemed to mull over the question before saying, “They both like to have a good time. That’s about all. Mushy cares about people, and that makes her different from Rozelle.Yo’ sister drinks a little too much, but this a messed up town. It’ll make you drink or lose yo’ mind.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.“Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.”
“You too young to lose yo’ mind.You just a little girl, sugar, and you don’t even know it.”
I smiled at that because we both knew that I hadn’t been a little girl for a long time now. I had reached for the door handle, preparing to get out, when Crow touched my arm.
“Something I wanna talk to you about,” he said, before I could get out of the car. “Martha Jean is a sweet girl, and I see the way you be looking at her husband.You know you gotta quit that, don’t you? I be watching him, too. He ain’t gon’ keep refusing you. He ain’t gon’ be able to. And yo’ sister—she ain’t gon’ keep forgiving you.”
I settled back on the seat, closed the car door, and turned to face my father. “But I want him, Crow,” I said. “I want Velman.” It was the first time I had admitted it aloud to anyone, and the confession gave me a sense of relief.
“What would you do wit’ him if you had him?” Crow asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve never had to think about that. I guess I’ve always known I’d never have him.”
“Leave it alone, sugar. He’s happy wit’ yo’ sister.”
“I know, but I’ll die without him.”
Crow chuckled.“You won’t die, sugar,” he said.“Believe me, you won’t die.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “There was a time when I loved Rozelle like that. I couldn’t do much of nothing for always thinking ’bout her.”
“She doesn’t even know your name.”
“What?
“Mama,” I said.“She doesn’t know your name. I don’t, either.”
He sat up straight, reached into his shirt pocket, and removed a folded sheet of paper and a match. He stuck the match between his teeth, and gave the paper to me. “Clarence Otis Yardley,” he said. “That’s my name. My mama always knows where I am. If you ever need me, she’ll know where to find me.”
I opened the folded paper. There were five twenty-dollar bills lying atop the name, address, and telephone number of his mother.
“This is goodbye?” I asked.
Crow shook his head.“When it’s goodbye, I’ll say goodbye.”
I got out of the car, and Crow leaned his head toward the passenger window.
“Yo’ mama really got the clap?” he asked.
“Time will tell,” I answered, although I didn’t think my mother had anything, except a bad case of lunacy, for if she did, I surely had it, too.