Gather Together in My Name - Maya Angelou [8]
Because he had not lied, I was forbidden anger. Because he had patiently and tenderly taught me love, I could not use hate to ease the pain. I had to bear it.
I am certain, with the passage of time, that he loved me. Maybe for the loveless waif I was. Maybe he felt pity for the young mother and fatherless child, and so decided to give us what we both needed for two months. I don't know. I'm only certain that for some reason he loved me and that he was a good man.
The loss of young first love is so painful that it borders on the ludicrous.
I even embarrassed myself. Weeks after Charles left, I stumbled around San Francisco operating in the familiar. The lovely city disappeared in my fog. Nothing I did to food made it interesting to me. Music became a particular aggravation, for every emotional lyric had obviously been written for me alone.
Gonna take a sentimental journey
gonna set my heart at ease …
Charles had taken that journey and left me all alone. I was one emotional runny sore. To be buffeted about emotionally was not new, only the intensity and reason were. The new pain and discomfort was physical. My body had been awakened and fed, and suddenly I discovered I had a ravenous appetite. My natural reticence and habit of restraint prevented me from seeking other satisfaction even if it could be found.
I began to lose weight, which, with my height and thinness, I could ill afford to do. The burst of energy which had propelled me into beauty salons and dress shops was now as absent as my gone lover. I longed and pined, sighed and yearned, cried and generally slouched around feeling dismal and bereaved. By eighteen I managed to look run down if not actually run over.
My brother Bailey again was my savior, a role he fulfilled most of my early years.
He returned to the city after some months on an ammunition ship, and came to the restaurant to see me.
“My. What the hell's happened to you?” The way I looked seemed to anger rather than worry him. I introduced him to my employer. She said, “Your brother. He awful little, ain't he? I mean, to be your brother?”
Bailey thanked her smoothly, allowing just the tail of his sarcasm to flick in her face. She never noticed.
“I said, what's the matter with you? Have you been sick?” I held in the tears that wanted to pour into my brother's hands.
“No. I'm okay.”
I thought at the time that it was noble to bear the ills one had silently. But not so silently that others didn't know one was bearing them.
“What time do you get off?”
“One o'clock. I'm off tomorrow, so I'm going out to get the baby.”
“I'll be back and take you. Then we can talk.”
He turned to Mrs. Dupree. “And a good day to you, too, madam.” Bailey did little things with such a flourish. He might have been the Count of Monte Cristo, or Cyrano saying farewell to fair Roxanne.
After he had gone, Mrs. Dupree grinned her lips into a pucker. “He's as cute as a little bug.”
I busied myself amid the pots. If she thought likening my big brother to an insect would please me, she had another think coming.
The baby crawled around the floor of my room as I told Bailey of my great love affair. Of the pain of discovery of pain. He nodded understanding and said nothing.
I thought that while I had his attention I might as well throw in my other sadness. I told him that because my old schoolmates laughed at me, I felt more isolated than I had in Stamps, Arkansas.
He said, “He sounds like a nice guy” and “I think it's time for you to leave San Francisco. You could try Los Angeles or San Diego.”
“But I don't know where I'd live. Or get a job.” Although I was miserable in San Francisco, the idea of any other place frightened me. I thought of Los Angeles and it was a gray vast sea without ship or lighthouse.
“I can't just tear Guy away. He's used to the woman who looks after him.”
“But she's not his mother.”
“I've got a good job