When I walked to the door and opened it, he began pleading. What happened the last time we saw each other was a misunderstanding. Couldn’t we both forgive and forget? Please? I could tell he was hurt: there was water standing in his eyes, and I closed the door. I didn’t want a big scene playing out while cars passed on the street, or, God forbid, while Mike and Eddie watched from across the street. For a few moments, I let him beg. Let him ask, let’s sit down and talk this out. He had all night. He didn’t have to rush home because Rebecca had flown to Atlanta for the weekend, to see her parents, who still hated Scooter. They kept trying to make her divorce him.
When he tried to kiss me, I turned away. A feeling came over me. Not desire anymore, but comprehension. He had counted on my rancor, that I wouldn’t feel guilty about sleeping with him, because of the beautiful racist he was married to. And I hadn’t felt guilty, either: I’d put the blame squarely on her. It had been so easy to make her the monster of my nighttime tale, and yes, Rebecca was a complete bitch. But I wasn’t in high school or college anymore: I couldn’t blame my bad behavior on somebody else. I was a grown woman. I opened the door and told Scooter to leave.
He called the next morning. I picked up the phone in the middle of the message he was leaving on my answering machine. His husky whispering: God, he missed me so much. Please let him come over. Whatever I wanted to make things right, he’d do it.
“Hey, Scooter.”
“Ailey, hey! I’m so glad—”
“Don’t call me anymore, youngblood. Okay? Don’t call me again. And God bless you.”
I couldn’t afford cable, but I wasn’t going to offer to give back the big-screen television he’d bought me, either. It was too late for Scooter to get a store refund, and I was too spoiled to watch thirteen-inch people.
*
I returned to Shug’s, too. I wasn’t going to lose my Black oasis, and when I came through the door, Miss Velma rushed from behind the counter, arms outreached. After we hugged, I confided that she hadn’t seen me these past weeks because I’d been avoiding Scooter. I talked around what had been going on, but I knew she was wise.
“He’s a married man, Miss Velma.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“And so I decided it wasn’t right for me to spend time with him. I hope you don’t think less of me.”
“Aw, baby! I ain’t here to judge you.”
“I appreciate you saying that, Miss Velma. I really do.”
She told me that, while I’d been gone, Scooter had come looking for me. He’d tried to pay for my future coffee refills, in case I returned, but Miss Velma wouldn’t take his money. Instead, she offered him some free counsel, based on thirty-nine years of marriage: he should go home to his wife and try to work things on out.
And he needed to leave me alone, too. Miss Velma told him, I was a pretty girl, but it wasn’t fair for Scooter to keep wasting my time. So he should let me walk on. That’s what he needed to do, because it looked like I didn’t want to drink his free coffee no more.
Song
The Terrible Decision
Yes.
We know you are impatient to hear what happened the night that Nick ran away. We know, and we have waited to tell you.
We have waited, sipping our own grief, before recounting the rest.
That Aggie didn’t want another child hurt by anyone, and especially by Samuel Pinchard. And her hopelessness tightened, until a message from above arrived. She heard the voice of Nick’s birth mother, as clear as if Mamie was standing next to her. This was no time to turn back.
And Aggie prayed, after Nick left the cabin. He went to seek his freedom, after he had cried over who he was leaving behind. And Aggie had turned to Eliza Two, a mere child, and told her what would be required. And Eliza Two squared her thin shoulders, as her grandmother wiped oil of cloves on Eliza Two’s cheeks. Aggie’s own cheeks were wet as she took a clean, sharpened knife and cut three lines on each side of her granddaughter’s face. Marks made near the bones. Signage of unknown tribes across the water, a place of which Aggie only had dreamed. After the marks were made, Aggie used the same knife to cut her granddaughter’s hair to the scalp. Then she sent Eliza Two back to the big house, under cover of darkness.
This is the tragedy of slavery. These are the grains of power. There isn’t a true innocence for children whose parents are shackled.
It was very late that night, when Samuel crept up to the attic. He carried the poppy syrup with him, to drug Eliza Two again. If Samuel had left his lantern on the first floor, his misshapen happiness could have lasted a few more hours, but he was afraid of falling down the staircase. When he cast his light on the scrawls of blood on Eliza Two’s face, her shorn hair, he began to scream. Not her name, but that of Nick, his beloved child. He made his way down the steps of the attic, and out the front door of the big house. He ran to Aggie’s cabin, banging on the door. When she answered, he shouted, where was Nick? as she pretended to wipe sleep from her eyes. She told her master that Nick had not come back that night.