“Goodness, this chicken is delicious! Somebody stuck a foot in this, right up to the ankle.”
“Root, you know I fried that chicken,” my granny said. “You just trying to change the subject!”
Indeed, he was, because he was too old for gossiping about folks. Thus far, in his ninety years, Uncle Root had escaped catching a pot of grits, and here they were, trying to get him killed, when he was past his prime. And could somebody get him some more chicken, please, put a roll on the plate, and then let him eat it in peace?
My mother and my granny giggled, holding hands, and I tried not to laugh. I put my arm around his shoulders, and he said at least he had me. I would keep him safe from these two troublemakers.
Shower and Pray
A few days after Mr. J.W.’s funeral, Uncle Root received his annual invitation to Founder’s Day at Routledge College. It had been two years since I graduated, and Roz had kept me up on the news about my classmates. Some had continued their studies, while others were working full-time jobs. A third of my graduating class were married, and when I thought about running into any of them, my extended vacation didn’t seem so wonderful anymore.
I tried to talk the old man out of going to Founder’s Day, but he put his foot down. He told me I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was grieving two deep loves. People needed to understand that, and as for him, he wasn’t a young man anymore or even middle-aged. He’d promised himself not to miss another Founder’s Day. He didn’t know how much time he had left, and the last time he’d skipped had been the year that Rob-Boy Lindsay had died.
“You know I hate when you talk about dying,” I said.
“Are you feeling guilty?” he asked. “Because that is the purpose of this macabre conversation.”
On campus, nothing had changed. At the gate, the pots of camellia shrubs burst with pink blooms, and as I steered around the long driveway, the sprinkler system, timed to waste water, kept the grass thick and green. We parked and walked past students in their jeans and T-shirts. I was only twenty-four, but I felt ancient. Had I ever looked this unfinished? This new?
When we arrived in the chapel, the old man wouldn’t stop waving. There were his former students. His colleagues. He was the only one left in the class of 1926, but he’d taught so many who sat in the pews. Dean Walters. Mrs. Giles-Lipscomb. Dr. Oludara. Half the history department and a third of English and biology. I’d forgotten that he was more than my great-great-uncle. He’d given three-quarters of his life to this college, to most of the people sitting in this room, and I’d tried to keep him away from his other kin. All because I was unemployed and embarrassed.
Dr. Oludara didn’t hide her joy at seeing me. In the faculty dining room, she trotted over. I tensed, then tried to fix my face. To get my lie straight, in case she asked me, what was I doing these days? Was I going to make something of myself? But she only hugged me, and I sniffed the familiar, smoky odor of her incense.
“Belinda, have you finished that book yet?” the old man asked.
“Dr. Hargrace, you know better than to ask. My nerves are so bad!”
“You better get on it,” he said. “I heard through the grapevine that Yaw Abeeku person is shadowing your every move, trying to get his book finished before yours.”
“Yes, he is! Fortunately, he has no manners. Do you know when he was on St. Simons Island, he tried to haggle over prices with the basket ladies?”
“No!”
“Dr. Hargrace, yes, he did!”
“Does that man not understand that we Negroes don’t haggle on this side of the ocean?”
“Well, you know, Abeeku is from Ghana, but he was trained in the British system. And that sense of entitlement is so strong. I have the same problem with my Femi, though I’ve almost broken him down.”
“Belinda, you’re so funny!” The old man threw back his head.
“But I don’t know what to do in the fall, once my sabbatical is over. I can only threaten to leave so many times to get a course release. I’ll be back teaching and still running the department. I really need a research assistant. It’s just too much.”
“That is such a coincidence. Because Ailey was just telling me the other day, she really needs a job. Weren’t you?”
“Sir?” I asked. “Excuse me?” I had only been half listening. Scanning the room and making sure none of my former classmates were here. Roz had told me the gossips reported that Abdul Wilson had showed to campus to haze Gamma hopefuls. The last thing I needed was to run into him.