Margaret Sexton: A Kind of Freedom

“Why didn’t you write me about the baby?” he asked finally. “It might have given me more to look forward to.”

Evelyn shrugged. “I didn’t want to scare you off. I didn’t know what your reaction would be, and I was scared I guess, scared you wouldn’t have us.”

Renard shook his head. “You know me better than that.”

“Of course I do. I should have said something, but don’t you see I was frightened? And war changes people. It sounds like it wasn’t so bad for you, but I’ve heard terrible stories of people coming back fractions of themselves.”

He nodded. “I understand. It doesn’t matter. At least I know now. At least I can be with you now.” He paused. “I didn’t know what to expect going, and I certainly can’t complain. I got to see another part of the world, and I’m back safe. But, well”—his stammer returned on both words, and Evelyn clutched his hand—“I didn’t tell you about the worst of it.”

She shook her head.

“We were stationed in a small town outside of Paris. There was a white unit next door, and they came by from time to time, shot off the word nigger , but otherwise kept to themselves. At first it wasn’t much different than home really. The whites got their food on plates, while we got tin trays. We were served one meal, but whites had seconds. Whites lived in rooms with shiny floors and washing machines, and we had concrete and potbellied stoves.”

“But like I said, that was nothing. I was used to that and would have been grateful to tolerate it. Only it didn’t take long for it to escalate. One night there was a party and we were preparing to go; see, the French people had invited us, trying to show their appreciation toward us black servicemen. So they made up the passes for us, and I put them on the commanding officer’s desk. When he saw them, he shook his head, tore them up, said there weren’t going to be any Negro girls at that party and he didn’t want his niggers dancing with any white women. I didn’t want to go anyway,” Renard pinched Evelyn’s side. “Wasn’t any dance partner I was seeking overseas, but some of my buddies, they went just to spite him. They were arrested that night.”

“Then the next night, the white unit got drunk, walked over, tried to start trouble, throwing bottles at us, swinging ropes around our heads. I ignored it, but one of our men fired three shots in the air. I don’t know where he got the pistol, but he told them we were all armed, and I’ve never seen white boys run as fast as they did then.” Renard seemed as if he wanted to laugh but couldn’t allow himself the levity.

“They didn’t take too kindly to that treatment. They came back again the next night. There were more of them than there were us, and they all had guns. They beat the hell out of us, Evelyn. All of us, even the ones who didn’t say a word. The French were so nice, so welcoming. You’d talk to them and forget you were Negro, but the other American soldiers beat us like they wanted to see us dead.”

Evelyn was clutching his whole body now. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” he said with more authority than she’d ever heard come from him. “I reckon I didn’t.”

His demeanor changed after he told that story. His eyes darkened, he let go of her hand.

They stayed out there on the swing for a while, but neither said another word.

The next morning, Mama knocked on her door bright and early to discuss wedding preparations. Ruby sulked — she’d been testy since she got the news — but she followed Mama around with a notepad making lists of all they’d need.

“Of course we can’t do it as big as we always imagined because of the, um, circumstances, but I still want you to celebrate. I think you deserve a celebration.”

Mama sent fabric over to Miss Georgia’s for the gowns, an off-white variation for Evelyn and a pink one for Ruby; Ruby went to the market for sugar and flour; Daddy bought ties, Brother raided the garden for flowers, and if Evelyn didn’t know better, she would have sworn it was the same family from a year ago, preparing for Renard and Andrew to come over for dinner.

The night before the big day, Daddy called Evelyn and Renard to the table.

“I want to talk to you, son,” he said. He seemed to stand straighter, and some of the light seemed to have reentered his eyes.

“Evelyn’s mama and I have been talking, and we want to make things easier on you all. That’s why I worked so hard, so my daughter would be able to sail through this life as much as a Negro woman can, and I reckon you deserve a little ease too; maybe you can finish school.”

Mama slid her a key. “It’s nothing,” she said, “nothing, just a two-bedroom old shotgun house down the block where Miss Georgia’s son used to live, but I thought it would be a perfect starter house for you two. Then, when Renard gets on his feet, well, you can have your dream house then.”

After her father had retired to bed and Renard had gone home, Evelyn sat with Mama.

“What do you think it was?” Evelyn asked.

“What do I think what was, baby?”

“What do you think changed Daddy’s mind?”

“Oh.” She sat for a little while just thinking. “Hard to say with that man,” she said finally. “Maybe it was the way Renard addressed him like a man first thing when he got back, or maybe he could see his family slipping away from him and this was his last chance to salvage it. I overheard Ruby talking to him the other day, so maybe that worked too. Maybe it was a combination of all those things. Lord knows it wasn’t me. When it comes down to it, he loves you, Evie, and he just wants you to be happy.”

Evelyn walked back into her bedroom. Ruby was lying down but not asleep. Evelyn sat on the edge of her sister’s bed.

“Mama told me you talked to Daddy,” Evelyn said.

Ruby shrugged. “He needs to realize how much he’s hurting us, how much he’s hurting you.”

Evelyn pulled her up in a tight embrace. “Thank you, sister.”

Her sister held her back for the first time Evelyn could remember. “Evelyn, it’s the least I could do.”

It was a simple wedding. Evelyn’s gown wasn’t what she imagined it would be, as it needed to accommodate the bump in her belly, but by the time Mama had unhooked the curlers and tightened the girdle, and Ruby had made up her face and positioned her crown, Evelyn couldn’t stop looking at herself in the mirror. From a certain angle, she wouldn’t have even known she was pregnant.

Still, it was a house ceremony instead of the lavish church affairs they were accustomed to, and they didn’t invite many people, just Uncle Franklin and Aunt Katherine, Miss Georgia since she’d made the gowns. Mama made everything look nice the way she always did: Petunias and pansies hung from the stairwell, rose petals danced on the floor of the foyer, and the table was spread with the cake in the center, gorgeous, white swirls of frosting on top.

When it was time for Evelyn to walk down the foyer, her daddy met her at the doorway to her bedroom. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she started to cry.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She had been so angry at him, so disappointed that he couldn’t make room in his heart for her love. But today was different. And maybe it wasn’t just him who had changed. Maybe it was thinking on having a child herself. She had hopes for her already. There was no question in her mind that the girl would be a doctor. By then, there might be other lady doctors, maybe even Negro lady ones. Wouldn’t that be something? She understood now that was what her daddy had dreamed for her. He had a good life: Most Negro men they knew tipped their hats at him on the way to church; everybody called him sir, but she knew he’d wanted more for Evelyn, could hear it in the charged way he’d asked her what she was studying when she’d pore over her books at night.