Celeste's Harlem Renaissance (21 page)

“Aunti, you love men no matter what they wear,” I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I just giggled. We got our dogs in the street quick. I saw so many Colored people along the parade route I could have been at the Negro State Fair parade back in Raleigh. A band in bright green uniforms stepping lively to a James Reese Europe tune passed by. Behind them men in black uniforms and shiny black boots rode on prancing black horses. Their banner read
UNIVERSAL AFRICAN LEGION.
Dozens of Colored women in white — Marcus Garvey’s “Black Cross Nurses,” Aunti told me — marched after them. We waved and shouted.

More bands and marchers passed, but Aunti told me she had to get ready for
Shuffle Along.
“I got to find those stock certificates, too,” she said. “Maybe by now Mr. Garvey has made me rich.”

We wandered back to our boardinghouse, our clothes drenched with sweat. I couldn’t wait to cool off with Miss D’s sweet tea. When we entered the lobby, Mrs. Tartleton waved a piece of paper at us. “Valentina, you got a call from an Ada Smithfield in Raleigh, North Carolina,” she said in a careful, slow voice that made me panic.

My heart thudded. Was Mrs. Smithfield calling to say I could come back home ’cause Poppa was home? Or had something bad happened to him? “She said Aunt Society has had an awful stroke and that Celeste needs to come home right away to take care of her. Here’s the telephone number of the Stackhouse Hotel, where she’s been waiting.”

I gasped and looked from Mrs. Tartleton to Aunti Val. Aunt Society sick? I’d never known her to even have a cold. Might she die? I yearned to go home, yes, but not like this!

Leave it to Aunt Society to cause all this inconvenience for me, right when I was starting to get out and about in Harlem!
was my first opinion. Then I quickly banished that thought. It wasn’t her fault she’d had a stroke. A stroke was like a heart attack of the brain. It could even be fatal. Next a flood of guilt swept over me. Was it my fault? Did my praying for her to go away cause it? “Go away” wasn’t supposed to mean
die
!

Mrs. Tartleton waved the paper again. When Aunti didn’t move, I walked over on wobbly legs to get it. “You want me to call her and talk to her?” I squeaked. Aunti nodded with her eyes closed, her hand palm-side up against her forehead like she was about to swoon. “I guess I’ll say we’ll be back as soon as possible,” I went on.

“That
you
will.” Aunti suddenly recovered, moving her hand and opening one eye.

“But I can’t take care of her by myself!” I flopped back on the divan beside her, wringing my hands. “I thought you could go back, at least for a little while. Can’t somebody help her down there?”

“I can’t leave the show or the café, even for a little while, as you say. Maybe she’s just got a bad case of indigestion from eating her own awful cooking.” Looking at Mrs. Tartleton and me, Aunti laughed a little. When we didn’t laugh, she stopped.

“Valentina, you need to talk to Mrs. Smithfield, not Celeste.” Mrs. Tartleton’s thin forehead was full of frown lines.

Aunti sighed. “All right. Send the call through.” She walked over to the front desk.

I couldn’t think straight. I was going home! But to a very sick aunt. I’d see Poppa and my friends! But I’d be leaving Harlem just when I was getting out on my own, had my womanhood, breasts, a new hairstyle — just when I was settling in. Now I was going back, and traveling all by myself again.

“Yes, it’s good to hear from you, too,” Aunti was saying into the telephone, “though I wish it was under different circumstances. How is Society?” She paused, listening. “You do have your hands full, don’t you? So some church ladies stay with her? Oh, not anymore. Celeste’s doing really well. We’re having so much fun! What a pretty young lady she’s — Yes, certainly she’s concerned about her aunt. How’s Taylor? Good. No, I can’t come; they need me in
Shuffle Along.
Oh yes, it’s very successful. I’m finally where I want to be, in front of full houses at every performance, and making a nice chunk of change.”

Aunti jabbered on about the show until Mrs. Tartleton cleared her throat and I stamped my foot. She said a few more things, and then hung up. She sat down beside me and took my hand. “When Mrs. Smithfield told Taylor about your aunt, he said you should come home to nurse her. Just so you know who gave the order. He’s doing good otherwise. Society had a couple of little strokes earlier but didn’t tell anybody, then this big one came along.”

“That’s how she is,” I said. “I’ve never known her to be sick.”

“Mrs. Smithfield said she’s partially paralyzed but she can move around a little. Some ladies from Society’s Baptist church still bring food over and have helped with laundry, things like that. But won’t nobody stay with her. Society’s back at your house. After you get there, Mrs. Smithfield’ll still come over every day.”

“But a stroke is so awful.” I tried to control my voice as Aunti stood up and gestured for me to follow her up the stairs. “I don’t want her to die, and I certainly don’t want her to die while I’m supposed to be taking care of her. I’m not a nurse. And how can they just order me to go from one place to another, with no say-so from me?”

“Your father has the say-so, Cece. It’s out of our hands. You know I don’t want you to leave,” Aunti told me. “Mrs. Smithfield said the church ladies took turns nursing her till Society got so contrary they refused to stay. That’s why Mrs. Smithfield called. She can’t take off from work anymore to be with Society, and she can’t find anybody else. Taylor can’t pay for a nurse, so you’re the only one left.”

“But when do I have to leave? I was just getting used to being here,” I wailed.

“Well, she also said Mr. Smithfield’s already got tickets. You leave day after tomorrow. I am
so
sorry, Cece. We were having fun, weren’t we?”

Chapter
Fifteen

M
y shoulders drooped. “I can’t go that soon! I won’t be able to say good-bye to —”

“Val, I need to borrow one of your valises again,” Miss D said as soon as she saw us in the hallway. She held an armful of folded slips, bloomers, and apron dresses. “I got to go to Gertie. My cousin Sarah wrote that Netta Lee and Pete’s down there fighting. I can’t let Gertie get hurt.”

“My goodness. When it rains it pours. Celeste’s aunt has had a bad stroke and they need her to come back to Raleigh to help,” Aunti told her.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Miss D said, pausing to give me a sympathetic look. But I could tell from the noncommittal tone of her voice that her mind was on Gertie.

“Ripsey, you told us that Gertie was fine,” Aunti said.

“T’was my thinking, too, till I got Cousin Sarah’s letter. I always had my suspicions about that crazy Netta Lee. Sarah wrote that Netta Lee’s carrying around a razor! That she’s talking about cutting someone. I just got to round up some ticket money somehow.”

“Miss D, you and I are in the same boat,” I said, to try to make her understand my awful situation. “Can’t nobody help Gertie and Aunt Society unless it’s you and me.”

“What?” Miss D finally comprehended. “You have to leave here now?” She put one hand up to her mouth like she was truly horrified.

“Ripsey, you got two good jobs up here. Miz Sheehan and that other lady won’t keep you if you go trotting off to South Carolina! Just leave things as is. Let Netta and Pete work things out. And what about your place here and your bills?”

“My ladies know me, and so does Mrs. Tartleton, thank you,” Miss D said suddenly, in the quietest voice I’d ever heard from her. “I save my money, Valentina Lassiter Chavis. Now you may care about your work over your family, but not me!”

“Aunti, can’t you at least ride back on the train with me?” I spread my arms wide, practically begging, trying to get my needs heard, too. “What if a robber’s at the train station again? How can I nurse Aunt Society by myself, with her criticizing and poking me morning to night? I’m —”

“Stop it, Celeste. You sound like you’re six years old,” Aunti snapped. “Grow up. Some girls take care of whole families by the time they’re your age. Society did. Bad things happen. You got to roll with it, girl! Sacrifice! Look here, Ripsey, what did you mean about —”

“What kind of sacrifice are
you
making? You ain’t goin’ nowhere. You won’t be cleaning up after nobody and putting up with their mischief.” Miss D pointed at me with one hand. “But you’re gonna let this child get on that train alone, knowing she got robbed before, and step into that mess back home by herself. Some sacrifice! You’ve turned your back on your family before when they needed you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aunti waggled her head angrily at Miss D. “This show’s my one big break, and I ain’t about to drop it for Society. That heifer’s been critical of everything me and my sister ever did. She was even mean to my sister when she was on her sickbed! I took in Celeste in March last minute, and I didn’t mind, but yes, I’ve had to sacrifice!”

I stepped back so they couldn’t see the agony on my face. Aunt Society mean to Momma? I knew they’d fussed at each other, when Momma was well. But when she was sick, too? I couldn’t be mean to anybody when they suffered. Now Poppa expected me to nurse that ole bat knowing she’d still be evil to me. And when had I ever heard Miss D and Aunti Val go at each other like this? They were supposed to be friends, but they sounded like they hated each other.

“I wish you’d both please stop!” I shouted.

Aunti Val opened and closed her mouth. Miss D turned to me. “Cece, I’m sorry you have to hear grown women arguing. I’ve spent most of my life cleaning White women’s houses. I scratch after money like a yard bird scraping for worms on a cement floor. I don’t make money kicking up my heels and batting my eyes.”

Lips tight, she held up her hand when Aunti puffed up to speak. “Cece, I won’t let you get on that train by yourself again. Nothing I hate more than to see Colored girls get jacked around. Not Gertie, and not you, either. I help Valentina when she needs it. I’ll fit my schedule to go back with you, somehow.”

“You’d do that for me, Miss D?” I whispered. “You are such a nice lady. Look, I’ve saved up a little. I can give you some money on your ticket, if you’ll take it.” I wished she’d stay with me after we got to Raleigh, too, when I had to face Aunt Society.

“Bless your heart, honey, but I can’t take your money. You’ve been so good to my little Gertie. When the Lord uses me like this, I must obey — unlike some people I know.” She turned her back on us, strode into her room, and began folding more clothes.

Aunti motioned for me to come to our room. “All right, look. I’m going to buy Miss D’s ticket so you can go together at least partway,” she said once we got inside. “Keep your money. Ripsey’s so dramatic. She didn’t need to be so snippy about this. This is so sudden! We all got problems. But you understand why I can’t come right now. I do care about you and Taylor and even Society, but I just can’t mess up my life when it’s finally getting on track.”

“So you really just think of me as a sacrifice? I won’t be around to disturb you anymore,” I said bitterly.

Aunt Valentina folded her arms. “No, I don’t think of you as a sacrifice the way
you
might define the word. But I did give up some things — willingly, Cece — to make a home for you here. It’s not my fault Taylor and Society got sick. Life can be damned hard sometimes. But you’ve been crying about wanting to go back home. Now you are. Like you would say, the Lord answered your prayers. Things work out so strange sometimes, don’t they?”

I couldn’t respond to that. She was right about what I’d been saying I wanted to do. I just hadn’t planned to do it so suddenly. I turned and began rummaging through my neat stacks of clothes and bags against the wall.

Aunti pulled out valises for Miss D and me. “You need at least a couple of these,” she murmured. “You’re leaving with a lot more than what you came with.”

From that moment I was caught up in a whirlwind: helping Aunti and Miss D wash and iron clothes; having Aunti wash my hair and Miss D French braid — well, cornrow it; sweating up and down the stairs with messages for and from Mrs. Tartleton; and passing out programs at
Shuffle Along
one last time and saying good-bye to everybody, especially Miss Jarboro. The cast, including Miss Lottie and Miss Adelaide, signed one of my programs as a keepsake for me. I helped Miss D clean her apartment, too.

Aunti did keep her promise by giving Miss D some money to help on her train ticket. Mr. Smithfield had already secured mine, and Aunti made sure they were ready at the train station. She also promised to send the
Brownies’ Book
package to me when it arrived in the mail. Miss D and Aunti stayed stiff with each other. They talked through me.

As I packed my things into Aunti’s red and black valises, the reality that I was actually returning to Raleigh, to my friends, and to Poppa, began to sink in. Maybe what the preacher said at Easter was true. He said sometimes you had to go through hell on earth to get to heaven above. Some of my hells — suffering through that robbery, being lonely, scrubbing cold splintery floors, and aching, paining, and being disappointed — should have made me tough enough to handle Aunt Society now. But I wouldn’t know that until I got there.

At least I wouldn’t be on the train ride by myself the whole way, and that helped. Maybe by the time I returned home, Aunt Society would be better, and things could be back to being halfway normal again. I’d been to New York, seen and done some fabulous things, and now I was going home. When I thought about it that way, I began to get more excited.

That night in bed Aunti kept saying she was sorry I had to leave. “Just when I was settling in, I’m being unsettled again,” I replied. “I’m ready to go, and I’m not, to be honest. I’ll miss eating at the Café Noir and going to the library.” I ticked off other things that I’d miss. “My reading about how great New York was supposed to be made me place this town on a higher pedestal than it really deserves. It’s great, but people make a town what it is, I reckon. Miss D and Monsieur were probably the nicest people I met up here. And you, of course. But I want to see Poppa and my friends, so I guess it’s time.”