He nods. “Of course. I told my wife.”
“That was between us, Ty.”
“Yes, it was. But it was not a secret to be borne a lifetime. Civil, how could you have never told anyone?”
I shrug, but the tears escape anyway. In Ty’s office, beneath fluorescent lights, I begin to cry openly and I feel as if I’m one of his students. He presses a tissue into my hand. “Civil. Civil.”
I awkwardly dab the tissue against my face. Neither of us reaches for the other, and I’m grateful for the space. I allow myself to sit with my regret. So much regret. So much.
TWENTY
Montgomery
1973
The morning it happened, I received the letter from the doctor that India was eligible for admission to the school. Erica had already started summer school and, despite her elevated age among her peers, she was loving it. I’d gone home for lunch after dropping off one of my patients, a woman by the name of Frida who had no children and had reached out to us because she intended to keep it that way. I left her with three months’ supply of pills and a box of rubbers.
“Why are you looking so happy?” Mama asked me.
It was one of those rare days Mama wasn’t painting. She had dressed in a real outfit that suggested she was going out.
“India got into a school. I’m going to go deliver the news to her after I get off work today. Do you want to come with me? You could see their apartment and all the stuff your money bought.”
She tied a small scarf around her neck, then untied it as if changing her mind. Montgomery was pleasant in June, but the weather was still hot.
“And the other sister?”
“She’s in summer school. I was thinking about tutoring her.”
“Tutoring?”
“Yeah, why not? I could do it on weekends when I’m not working.”
“Baby girl, I just hope you know that no matter how much you do, God has dealt that family an awful hand.”
That was the same thing Val had said. Both of them were wrong, though. Some things couldn’t be changed, but this case was different. “Don’t say that, Mama. Look at how much happier they are now they’re in that apartment. That’s because of you.” I kissed her on the cheek and looped an arm around her shoulders. “You want to go over and see the apartment with me?”
“Lord, child, no. Those people got enough folk running in and out of their lives gawking at them. They are not a sideshow.”
I nodded. She was right, and I was embarrassed that I had even suggested it. I really just wanted to spend time with her.
“Now, I’m going to need my car today. You got to drive your own car sometimes. I’m going to lunch with Louise and I’d never hear the end of it if I picked her up in that fire-engine-red car of yours.”
“Tell her I said hello.” I passed the keys to her.
The screen door slammed shut behind her, and I cleared my dishes off the table. The clock over the kitchen sink ticked loudly. Dixie Court was in the opposite direction of the clinic, but I had a little time. I considered dropping by the Williamses’ apartment and telling India the news before going back to work. It was going to be too hard to keep this to myself all afternoon long. We had worked so hard, and I knew the girl was probably just hanging around the house all day with her grandma now that Erica was in school. I decided it was better to get to work, but all day I thought about them, watching the clock and waiting for it to hit five so I could head over to Dixie Court.
I will never forget; it was a glorious June afternoon. Sunny, clear skies. In the car, I hummed along with “You Are the Sunshine of My Life.” The windows were down, and I drummed my hand along with the music. Things hadn’t looked this good in weeks. I had a brochure to give India so she could look at the pictures. I hadn’t wanted to show it to her until I was certain she’d passed the test. It was a nice place with an outdoor play yard. St. Jude Church had always welcomed Black folks; they had even founded a hospital that was the first in the region to integrate. But at the moment I was most grateful for the school that nurtured the minds and hearts of children like India. I couldn’t wait to take her for a tour so I could see it myself.
As I walked up the steps to their apartment, the brochure clutched in my hand, I glanced at my watch: 5:47 p.m. I had made it through my cleaning chores and driven over from the clinic in record time. I was breathless, giddy with the news. One of my knee-highs slid down to my ankle. I knocked on the door, then stooped down to pull it back up.
“Miss Civil, what you doing here?” Mrs. Williams opened the door wearing the new eyeglasses I’d bought her. The apartment smelled salty, like there was fatback on the stove. It seemed like every time I visited the woman was cooking, especially when she’d just gotten her food stamps. On the block there was a bus stop that took her straight to the A&P.
“I’m just stopping by to tell India she got into the school. Ooh, your new eyeglasses look good on you. Can you see better now?” I tried to peek around her broad figure.
“The glasses is fine. But ain’t you with the girls? They been gone since early this morning.”
“The girls? Gone where?”
“Child, the nurse come and took them to the hospital. I figure you was with them.”
“The hospital? For what? Are they sick?”
“No, they went for they shots.”
“Shots?” My knees started to tremble. “You mean they went to the clinic?”
“No, they say they was taking them to the hospital.”
“To the hospital for shots?”
“That’s what they say. Least, I believe that’s what the woman say. I ain’t for sure.”
“What woman?”
“The white lady. I know she said Professional Hospital.”
“The white lady? Professional Hospital?”
“Yes, the white lady with big red hair. I believe I met her once before, but I can’t remember correctly.”
I rubbed my eye. Mrs. Seager had been to the apartment. And she’d taken them to Professional. That was the white hospital. It didn’t make sense.
Mrs. Williams opened the door wider and I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me but held on to the knob. I touched my shoulder to the tip of my ear.
“Mrs. Williams,” I said slowly, “did you sign anything?”
“I sure did. I put my mark clear as day on the paper she brung me.”
I opened the door and ran down the stairs, trying to get to my car as fast as I could. There were no signed papers in the file for the Depo shots, so it was possible Mrs. Seager had just given her something to sign regarding those. It was possible. It was possible.
I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers cramped. Once I arrived at Professional, I hurried through the main doors, my nurse’s uniform giving me enough of an air of authority that no one looked askance. I stopped at the desk.
“I’m looking for India and Erica Williams. They came in with Mrs. Linda Seager a while ago, from the—”
“You work here?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am, I’m from the Montgomery Family Planning Clinic.”
She pointed to a thick binder on the desk. “Sign in.”
I scribbled my name as she thumbed through a large book. “Here they are. They’re in post-surgery on the fourth floor. The room number is—”