Page 32 of Under the Tulip Tree
I turned to find Mama standing in the front doorway, her voice wobbly with worry. It hadn’t occurred to me until this very moment I should have called my mother at some point during the day to let her know I was out and wouldn’t return for a while.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. There wasn’t a telephone I could use.” I climbed the steps to the front porch and heard high-pitched children’s voices from inside the house. A quick glance revealed my sister’s old Hudson parked in the driveway.
“We were about to call the police, Lorena Ann.” Mama’s concern quickly turned to rebuke. “When Mother said she hadn’t seen you all day, I was nearly frantic with worry. Poor Mary had to load up the children without their supper and come console me.”
While I did feel bad about not calling, Mama’s dramatics were a bit much. “I’m fine, Mama. Next time I’ll let you know when I’m going out.”
She frowned at me in the yellow porch light, then looked down the road. I followed her gaze to where Alden’s car disappeared around the corner.
“Was that the young man from the FWP?”
I sighed. Here came the interrogation. “Yes. Alden Norwood.”
“What were you doing out with him? You’ve been gone all day.”
I weighed my next words. To lie and say I’d been with Alden would be far easier than enduring the lecture I knew would be forthcoming if I told the truth regarding my whereabouts. Yet I had nothing to be ashamed of.
“I went to see Mrs. Washington. We’re not quite finished with her interview.”
Mama grew completely still and stared at me. Finally her eyes narrowed. “Where does this woman live?”
I broke eye contact and moved toward the door. “Jackson Street.”
Mama reached out to prevent me from entering the house. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been going down to... to...” Her voice dropped to a low hiss. “You’ve been going down to Hell’s Half Acre?” Her gaze darted around the darkened yard as though the neighbors had gathered on the lawn to eavesdrop.
“Yes, Mama. Mrs. Washington lives in a very nice house. She’s planted all sorts of flowers and even has a vegetable garden. It’s not what you think.”
Her expression grew hard. “I’ve seen that neighborhood,Lorena Ann. It’s run-down and dangerous. What has gotten into you that you would not only disgrace us by spending time with unsuitable people, but also put yourself in harm’s way by going down to that... that area?”
Mary appeared in the open doorway just then, two-year-old Buddy in her arms. The odor of a dirty diaper followed them. She glanced between Mama and me. “Where have you been, Lulu? Mama’s been worried.”
“She’s been down to seethat woman.” Mama’s lips pinched.
Mary frowned. “Mama told me about your job. Really, Lulu, couldn’t you find something more respectable?”
“Yes,” Mama said, crossing her arms. “Respectable. Maybe you’ll listen to your sister if you won’t listen to me.”
The last thing I needed was a lecture given by my sister, who’d never held a job in her life. Even if Mama was right about Frankie’s neighborhood being dangerous, I refused to quit the FWP, especially now that Alden had agreed to driveme.
I turned and stomped down the steps. “I’m going to Grandma Lorena’s. You don’t need to call the police.”
Mama protested and Mary called me childish, but their words fell on deaf ears. I had to talk to someone, and only one person would do.
“Mama will make my life miserable unless I quit my job.”
I sat across from Grandma Lorena at her breakfast table, feasting on her famous chicken and dumplings. She’d eatensupper earlier, but that didn’t stop her from having a small helping to keep me company.
Grandma wore a thoughtful frown. “That would be a shame, Rena. I believe Frankie’s story needs to be told. The others, too. Especially for the younger generations to hear.”
My heart swelled with appreciation. “Thank you, Grandma. I don’t understand why Mama refuses to see that. She’s never met Frankie, and yet she’s already made up her mind that Frankie isn’t someone I should associate with.”
We each took a bite of our supper before Grandma set her spoon down.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Margaret was raised in a time when white people didn’t associate with blacks. Now, that doesn’t mean she or any of us should think another person is any different because their skin is a darker shade, or that we’re somehow superior because of our white skin, but some habits and beliefs are hard to change once they’re set inside you.”
I considered her words. “But you don’t have any prejudices against a person because of the color of their skin.”
A look I couldn’t quite discern filled Grandma’s face. “I certainly hope I no longer carry any in my heart, but shamefully, I admit there was a time when I thought like your mother.”
