“My church threads,” he said.
When we picked up India, she looked warily at Ty as she settled into the back seat.
“You remember Ty? He helped move your stuff out of the cabin. I’ve known him since I was a girl like you. He’s going to ride with us to the testing place.”
Every now and then she made a motion that appeared to be a nod, but it wasn’t consistent. I truly believed India was trainable, but I was no expert. The girls’ hygiene had improved since moving into the apartment, but India still needed to wear deodorant. An odor like onions hung over her.
“So I hear you and Alicia been talking a lot,” I said.
“Yeah, we been hanging out.”
“Hanging out, huh?” I had been the one to break things off with Ty, so I didn’t know why I was feeling a little jealous.
“Girl, you so crazy.”
From the back seat, I heard India making a noise. In the rearview mirror, I could see her pointing out the window. A spray of bees gave chase right outside the car.
“Yes, I see, baby. I see. Those are bees.” I made a buzzing noise. India tried to mimic the sound. Yes, she was definitely trainable.
We rode the elevator up to the doctor’s office in silence. India pressed all the elevator buttons, and since she’d only pressed the numbers above the third floor, I let her. The doors opened, and she hesitated before taking a step out, as if she thought the doors would close on her. I took her hand. “You’ll be fine.”
The office was at the end of the hallway. There was no placard on the door, but the suite number was the same one I’d written down on the scrap of paper in my purse. When we walked in, I was surprised by how small it was. A room with a glass window faced the waiting room. There was no receptionist, so I pressed the knob on a call bell on the end table.
A few minutes passed before Ty said, “Are we in the right place?”
The door opened, and a gray-haired man poked his head out. He didn’t open the door all the way. “Yes?”
“We have an appointment with Dr. Merle. I’m a nurse, and I’ve brought India Williams to be tested for admission to—”
“You’re late.”
“Well, sir, we were on time when we first walked in and rang the—”
“Have her take a seat at the table in the testing room.”
“Will we be able to sit with her?” I asked.
“Of course not. Do you have your payment? It’ll be forty-five dollars.”
I did not like the way he was speaking to me, and I was about to say something, but Ty reached for his wallet.
“Here you are, sir.”
The doctor opened the door wider to take the money. Then he turned to India and softened his voice. “Hello, young lady. What’s your name?”
India just looked at him. I had to give it to the girl. She had a certain stillness to her around strangers. It communicated to them to keep their distance.
“She doesn’t speak, sir. I told you that over the telephone.”
He scowled at me. “I remember that. Let me do my job, ma’am.”
I took India into the room and put her in the chair. “I’m going to be right through that window while you take this test. It shouldn’t take that long, hear?”
She touched my hair, and I stopped her by grabbing her hand. “This is just a test to get you into school.” I repeated the same words I’d used in the elevator. “You’ll be fine.”
I realized I should have brought Erica with me. She could have helped to decipher some of India’s responses for the doctor. He entered the room carrying an open box containing plastic toys and sheets of paper. He spoke softly to India, and she responded immediately by making eye contact with him and taking the first offered toy. I got the impression that he was a man who connected more with children than he did with adults. No excuse. He still needed to learn some manners.
In the other room, Ty sat down and started thumbing through Outdoor Life magazine. “Don’t just stand there staring at her through the window. Let them work,” he said, not looking up.
I sat down beside him and watched him for a moment. “You’ve certainly been Mr. Big Bucks lately. You didn’t tell me you were going to pay.”
“Since you didn’t let me pay for your little Opelika visit, I figured you thought I was broke or something.”
“Ty, that’s not fair,” I said quietly. He turned the page of the magazine, and it ripped. I touched his arm. I had underestimated this hurt between us. Ty may not have been physically in that room with me that day, but his heart had lain right alongside me. “Thank you for helping, Ty. I mean that. But I still don’t know why you’re doing all this. I hope it’s not to impress me.”
“Pshaw, girl. I couldn’t win you back if I tried. Could I?”
I changed the subject. “Did Alicia tell you that we stopped giving our patients Depo shots?”
He breathed out audibly, as if resigning himself to my stubbornness. “Mama is still trying to find out more information. She’s contacted some friends of hers in Washington.”
“I gave shots to two patients since you first told me about the studies. What the hell is wrong with me?” I wiped at my eye.
“Come here, girl.” He pulled me to him, and I placed my cheek against his chest. “Don’t blame yourself, Civil. You were just trying to do your job.”
“I don’t know what my job is anymore.”
“Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe it’s just overblown and the study doesn’t apply to humans, after all.”
“Come on, Ty. You were a biology major. You know that we have to take those nonhuman studies seriously until more clinical trials can be done. And we’re talking little Black girls here. They set different rules for us.” I straightened back up in my chair and peered through the window at India. The doctor was holding up cardboard signs, but I couldn’t make out the images. India just stared at him, her affect blank.
Ty took my hand in his. “I know. We’ll find out more soon enough, okay? I promise.”
“I hope so. Let me know as soon as your mama hears back?”
“I promise, Civil. You’ll be the first to know.”
NINETEEN
Birmingham
2016
He is grayer around the edges and a glint of silver lines his cheeks. His chin is softer, sideburns shorter. There are lines in his forehead, but his cheeks are still smooth. Right before this trip I found his picture on the internet, but it is different seeing him in person. I feel off-kilter. When he hugs me, he pats me on the back. A friend hug. I pull him closer, and he doesn’t resist. It’s bold of me, but I just do what feels right in the moment.
The office is traditional—a dark wood desk, bookshelves, a round conference table in the corner covered in stacks of paper. There’s a ficus in the corner and a fern on the edge of the desk. The tops of the bookshelves are lined with rhododendrons. It smells a little earthy.
“Tyrell Ralsey. President of a college. Who would have thought?”
“Funny you say that. I never had any problem picturing you as a surgeon.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No offense taken.” Rather than retreat to the other side of his desk, he sits in the chair beside me.