The Heart of a Woman - Maya Angelou [35]
Oh my God.
“They terrorize everybody Even the cops are scared of that bunch. When I heard that Guy had offered to fight them, I drove over to your house and got him. He didn't want to go. He had stuck all your butcher knives in the curtain at your door and told me he was waiting for them to come back. I said, ‘Boy you'd better get your butt in this car’ I told the woman downstairs to tell the gang, when they came back, that his uncle came to get him.”
Mom Willie spoke first. “Well, honey, raising boys in this world is more than a notion. Ask me about it. While they're young, you pray you can feed them and keep them in school. They get up some size and you pray some crazy white woman don't scream rape around them and get them lynched. They come of age and white men call them up to go fight, and you pray they don't get killed over there fighting some white folks' war. Naw. Raising a black boy makes you sit down and think.”
John had respectfully waited for his mother to finish her remembrances. “I'll get Guy now.” He went to the stairs and called, “Guy, come down. Your mother's here.”
I heard the heavy steps rushing down the stairs and I wanted to stand, but my body wouldn't obey. Guy bounded into the kitchen and the sight of him brought tears to my eyes.
“Hi, Mom. How was the trip?” He bent down and kissed my cheek. “Gee, it's great to have you home.” He read my face and stopped smiling. “Oh, I guess Mr. Killens told you about the little incident. Well, it wasn't really serious, you know.” He patted my shoulder as if he were the reassuring parent, and I the upset child.
“What happened, Guy? How did you get involved with a gang like that? What—”
“I'll discuss that with you. Privately, please.” He was back on his dignity, and I couldn't deflate him. Whatever the story, I had to wait until we were alone.
John understood and said he'd drop us off at home. Guy shook his head. “Thanks, Mr. Killens. We'll walk.” He turned to me. “Where are your bags, Mom?”
I nodded toward the entry and he walked away.
Grace said, “He wants to be a man so much, my God. It would be funny if it wasn't so serious.”
John said, “Everything in this society is geared to keeping a black boy from growing to manhood. You've got to let him try for himself.”
I joined Guy at the door and we said good night to the Killenses.
We walked through the dark streets, and as Guy asked about Oscar Brown and other Chicago friends, I saw phantoms of knife-wielding boys jumping from behind trees, hiding behind cars, waiting in gloomy doorways.
I asked Guy to tell me about the incident, adding that Brooklyn was more dangerous than New York City. He said, “Let's wait till we get home. But I'll tell you this, Mother.” A pronouncement was on its way. “I don't want you to think about moving. I'm living here and I have to walk these streets. If we moved, the same thing could happen and then we'd move again. I'm not going to run. 'Cause once you do, you have to keep on running.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
He made a pot of coffee for me and I sat waiting until he was ready to talk.
We sat opposite each other in the living room and I tried to keep serenity on my face and my hand on the coffee cup.
It had all begun with the housekeeper. One day, the week before, Mrs. Tolman had brought her granddaughter to our house. Susie was fifteen, cute and eager. She and Guy talked while Mrs. Tolman cooked and cleaned. The next day Susie came back with her grandmother. Again the teenagers talked and this time they played records. On the third morning, Susie came alone. They played records and, this time, they danced together in the living room. Susie said she liked Guy, really liked him. Guy told her that he was already dating a girl but that he appreciated Susie's honesty. She became angry and Guy explained that he and his girlfriend didn't cheat on each other. Susie said Guy was stuck-up and thought he was cute. They had an argument and Guy put her out of the house.
I wondered if he meant he