Infinite Us(65)
The streetlight outside was yellow, a dreary color that reminded me of a rainstorm, of sickness. I hated the dim light it shot through my room, between the slip of window from my partially open curtains. The pillow on the other side of the bed held three long strands of hair, Willow's hair, and I grabbed the thing, tucked it under my chin, just to catch that jasmine scent; just to remind myself she'd been there.
Only then did I sleep.
New Orleans
There were things that weren't done in the city. Not by folk like me. Not when there were so many eyes looking this way and that, waiting to see what we'd do and who we'd do it to. There was nothing for it, just the way of our world. Some bad men liked to keep us under their thumbs. They liked to remind us all that our kin had been owned by theirs not all that long ago. They liked to tell us how we were nothing, how our kids wouldn't be nothing, just because they were small, stupid people with no notion of good sense. They were mean because it was in their nature. It was how they'd been reared and how they'd die. God help us, they were raising little ones to be just like them.
When there are eyes looking, judging, you need to be smart about the company you keep. Back on the farm was one thing; there was no nosey spying because the company we kept told the town straight where they'd be. But here in the city, where illegal liquor and cheap dope came easy as dying, boredom led to the devil's business and damn us all, business was good.
Some things just weren't done. They weren't fittin' at all. Like Sylv nosing around the Chambers cottage at all hours of the night because Lily let him put his hand inside her shirt. Or the way Ripper Dean took any girls with half a decent smile right off the street without anyone's bye or leave. Sad fact was ole Ripper didn't care if that was fittin' or not. Or, the thing that made those staring eyes widen and those fat running mouths go off a mile a minute, when Dempsey Simoneaux, a white Cajun boy whose daddy had a special hatred for black folks, brought me, the light skinned daughter of a woman who sold illegal hooch, a bunch of white and yellow roses he picked right from his mama's prize-winning garden.
Things like that happen, especially in the city, and folks tend to notice.
"You are a damn fool." I wanted to say I was sorry for putting that look on Dempsey's face. His smile got a little shaky then, and he lowered his arm, fist full of those pretty roses. But really, he should have known better.
Three white men I'd seen a few times around the Simoneaux place watched as I tugged on Dempsey's arm and pulled him around to the alley just in back of Mama's shop.
"I got these for you, Sookie. To make you feel better."
"Don't tell me why you got them. Lord, Dempsey, I know why you did." It couldn't be helped. The roses really had the fullest blooms and their scent, thick and sweet, blocked out the nasty smell of garbage and trashed liquor bottles that littered the ground next to us. I took the flowers, despite my fussing, and held them in front of my face, smelling that sweet perfume. "You should have waited."
"No time like now." He stepped closer, resting his palm on the brick wall at my back and I wondered if he'd dare to kiss me, right here, where anyone could look into the alley to find us standing close, our mouths just inches apart.
No. That wouldn't do.
It was only him reaching forward, the space between us getting smaller and smaller that made the fog that had come with the smell of those roses lift from my head. Dempsey leaned, eyes already closed and I pushed him back with the flowers against his chest.
"Oh no you don't, Dempsey." He moved again, taking the flowers out of my hand to stand right in front of me and I shook my head. "No indeed. You stop right there."
"Why would you want me to do that?" I hated that smile, just a little bit. I hated it because before it had loosened my strength that night in the fishing shack. It had me forgetting that I had no business kissing boys like Dempsey. By the end of that night my lips were swollen and beat with a throb from all the kissing. That smile told me enough that Dempsey wanted to make my lips throbbing and swollen again.
"Come on now … just a little kiss. I did bring you flowers."
"Uh huh, from your mama's garden. You had to steal them. She wouldn't give the Wise Men a single flower for Jesus's birth much less her son. Especially when he wants to give them to no-account colored girl like me." He really didn't think sometimes and it had me fuming. God knows the trouble he'd be in now. "She's gonna whip you good."