Gather Together in My Name - Maya Angelou [43]
“‘Well, I don't like him eating here. Get him out of the house.’
“I said, ‘Good-Doing, don't get it twisted. This is my house and my chicken, and he's my friend.’
“He said, ‘Bitch, you supposed to be so bad. You need a good ass-kicking.’”
She looked at me, puzzlement wrinkling her pretty face.
“Baby, I swear to you, I don't know what sent him off, but before I could say anything, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife. You know he's got something wrong with the fingers on his left hand, so he bent his head over and was trying to open the knife with his teeth. Now, you can see by that, that he's a fool. Instead of moving away from him I just stepped over to the mantel. I put Bladie Mae in my pocket before I went up to the room. When he came up with his knife half open, I slapped him cross the face with ole Bladie.
“He jumped faster than the blood. Screamed, ‘Goddammit, Bibbie, you cut me!’
“I said, ‘You goddam right, and you lucky I don't shoot you on top of it’
“He was holding his face, blood dripping down his hands on to his Hart Schaffner and Marx suit. I gave him a pillow off my bed and told him to sit down. I told him moving around makes the blood pump faster. I came back to the kitchen and told John Thomas to make himself scarce—no point in him being involved—then I called the police and the ambulance.”
Mother inspected the contents of her glass, then she took my large hand in her smaller, plump one and ordered my close attention.
“Baby, Mother Dear's going to tell you something about life.”
Her face was beautifully calm, all traces of violence lost.
“People will take advantage of you if you let them. Especially Negro women. Everybody his brother and his dog, thinks he can walk a road in a colored woman's behind. But you remember this, now. Your mother raised you. You're full-grown. Let them catch it like they find it. If you haven't been trained at home to their liking tell them to get to stepping.” Here a whisper of delight crawled over her face “Stepping. But not on you.
“You hear me?”
“Yes, Mother. I hear you.”
There had been some changes at home. Bailey had found his first great love. Eunice was a small, smiling brown-skinned girl who had been our classmate. They had met again, and over the protests of her family, rushed to marry. Bailey, the airy false charmer, had drifted to earth and was happy. He laughed and joked again.
They invited me to their Turk Street apartment, where large Gauguin and van Gogh prints enlivened the walls and fresh flowers sparkled on waxed tables.
He told funny dirty stories and the three of us laughed into the cheap wine and congratulated ourselves on being smart enough to be young and intelligent. We could see the plateaus of success in our futures. Plateaus where we would wait and rest awhile before climbing higher. When he looked at my 8″ by 10″ professional glossies, he said I had the “biggest nose in show business” but it was prettier than Jimmy Durante's and I ought to be proud.
I tried to punch him, but he laughed and swerved out of the way.
“You'll be the tallest dancer on Broadway. Ha ha.” He ran around the table escaping my outstretched hand. “You'll make a million with each leg and a zillion with your nose.”
Relief made me laugh out of proportion. Later I kissed them both good night and wished I knew how to thank Eunice for helping Bailey find his sense of humor again.
I walked the dark streets toward home and shivered at Bailey's close escape. Most of his friends, funny and bright during our schooldays, now leaned in nighttime doorways, nodding as their latest shot of heroin raced in their veins. Sparkling young men who were hopes of the community had thrown themselves against the sealed doors set up by a larger community, and not only hadn't opened them, but hadn't even shaken the bolts. The potential sharp-tongued lawyer, keen-eyed scientist and cool-hand surgeon changed his mind about jimmying the locks and took to narcotics so that he could float through the key hole.
Eunice's happy love