The House of Eve

by Sadeqa Johnson

My grandma Nene always said that early was on time, on time was late, and late was unacceptable.

My cousin had more excuses than a hoe going to jail, and I didn’t have time to entertain her colorful tales this morning.

Eleanor had been told that she was good-looking, but she’d never considered her skin color a plus or a negative. It just was.

Honestly, she hadn’t even known that Negroes separated themselves by color until she stepped foot onto the all-Negro university’s campus a year ago.

“My goal is to build a collection that would reflect all of our history. Comprehensive Negro history.” Mrs. Porter beamed.

“Art is the friend that you can always return to. It will always be there to heighten your feeling of aliveness. Keep going.”

The way he stared at my painting made me feel like he was peeking at my soul.

Seven years. That’s the amount of time Inez had played mother to me. From the time I was born until third grade, Inez was just Nene’s daughter. The pretty lady who smelled like honeysuckle and wore slingback heels, who came around on the weekends to drink beer with my cousin Fatty. Then Nene’s glaucoma worsened and she fell and fractured her hip. Two days later she was declared legally blind. A week after her prognosis, I could tell that something was wrong by the way Nene’s bottom lip quivered as she crushed me to her breasts. “If I could keep you, sweetness, you know I would. But Nene’s getting old, and she the only mother you got. Be patient with her.”

Their lives were my window, and I knew from an early age that cleaning up after white folks wasn’t the path for me. I was going to be an optometrist so that I could discover the cure to fix Nene’s glaucoma and bring back her sight.

“I read that last year. Decent for Shakespeare.” Then I couldn’t help myself. “Which of his is your favorite?” “Probably Romeo and Juliet.” “Why?” “I’m a sucker for a forbidden love story.” He swept his hair out of his eye and smiled.

“I’ma tell you like this. You done pulled a seat up to a game that your ass can’t win. Cut that shit off now.” “Yes, Auntie.” “And don’t you leave this house again without my permission, hear? These streets are dangerous for a flowering girl like you.” “Yes, ma’am.”

“Country-ass Negroes, always have to drag us down with this slave history crap,” one man said. “I think it’s important to remember where we came from.” “I think it’s important to forget it and move on.”

In that moment, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to give what was budding between us a chance. Despite the odds, and despite Aunt Marie’s warning.

I turned my fork over on my plate wondering why it was always my responsibility to worry over what grown men might be thinking.

Ain’t got time to be arrested for sucker punching a white woman today.”

“I pay taxes just like you. Next time watch where you’re going,” Aunt Marie called back before grabbing me by the hand and marching me off in the opposite direction.

And then I was reminded all over again. What I’d known to be true from the moment Shimmy knocked on Aunt Marie’s door. This thing between us would never survive. The world wouldn’t permit us the light to grow.

“Can’t let nobody steal your joy, sweetness, or you gon’ live a miserable life. I done seen it. You show that ignorant woman by getting your education. Keep your eye on the prize. Forget about her.”

Knowing about racism and being abused by its wrath were two different things. Mechanically, I followed my aunt to the bus stop that would take us back to our cage in North Philadelphia. Where it had been decided for us that it was where we belonged. Crammed together like pigs in a stall so tight, it was impossible to dream or breathe. Every single day we had to fight for food, for carfare. And this trip downtown had shown me that we even had to fight for what should have been free: our dignity.

“Yes, he’d like that.” Eleanor threaded her arm around his waist. “You sure about this? Marriage is forever.” “I’m sure we’re going to be a family. And I’m sure that I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He brought her hand to his heart and then kissed her fingertips.

Rose Pride’s red lips gaped open, and her eyes burned into Eleanor. “You must be pregnant,” she spat. “What she means is congratulations,” William Senior offered. “Are you?” Rose asked. “Pregnant?” Eleanor couldn’t seem to find her voice. This was not what she had anticipated. William took her hand above the table. “She is carrying my child, but even if she wasn’t, we’d still get married.” “Bullshit.” Rose threw her arms up.

Eleanor didn’t know if she was making a peace offering or starting a war.

“Have you read the paper lately? Another Negro teenage boy was beaten to a bloody pulp in the Italian section of South Philly. Accused him of looking at a white woman. What would they do to us?” “Ruby, I don’t care about all that. All I care about is you.”

“You don’t care because you don’t have to, Shimmy. You live in a beautiful safe bubble, and the world says I don’t belong there.”

Shimmy’s hat was in his hands. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know how to make this work. All I know is that I can’t live without you. I’m willing to do what it takes.” He forced his way into the apartment and closed the door behind him. We stood toe to toe, eye to eye. “I love you, Ruby.”

Nigger. Stay in your own neighborhood. Now I need to shower. You can’t be friends with the likes of her.

“What will your mother say when she realizes that you, her pride and joy, are in love with the help’s daughter?”

Sometimes there are no words to help one’s courage. Sometimes you just have to jump. —Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

“I’m so in love with you, Ruby, it’s hard to see straight.” I knew exactly what he meant, because as Aunt Marie would put it, I couldn’t see for shit.

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, fighting the sting in my eyes. It seemed that all I did these days was cry and feel bad. “What?” Shimmy’s voice cracked. “You’re what?” “You heard me.” I glanced up, and his face had gone pasty white. He started running his hands through his hair, something I had noticed he did when he was nervous, but I had no energy to comfort him. I walked hunched over to the couch. “I’ve been trying to get rid of it, but nothing works.” “How could you’ve let this happen?” Anger rushed his words. “Me?” I shouted. “Please stop acting like you weren’t there.”

“I’m scared to dream so big with you,” I confessed. “Don’t be, I’ve figured it all out.”

“Let me give you a piece of advice. The way to a healthy marriage is to hold on to those pieces that make you you. I know how you feel about the library. Put that passion of yours to good use.”

“You ready to be strapped down with a baby you can’t feed ’cause you ain’t earning shit cleaning up after white people, or go on to college and become a doctor?” She dished a card, then signaled that it was my turn. “Hell, choice seems easy to me. Stay poor like the rest of us, or climb, scratch and claw like hell to get out.”

“Marry me, Ruby.” His green eyes were clear, full of hope and innocence. I wished I could be as naïve as him. “You don’t have to go through with this. We can jump out of the car right now and run. You, me and the baby.” “Shimmy.” “I love you, Ruby.” “And I love you, but I’m learning that love ain’t always enough.” “It is for me.”

“Your mother will crush our love. The world will stomp out our fire. I have no other choice, Shimmy. Please understand this, for me.” I grabbed his face and kissed his lips, despite his mother watching. “Take care of yourself.”

Mrs. Shapiro stood stiff like a guard. “One last thing.” She stepped closer so that only I could hear her. “My son is a fool, but I can see that you are a smart girl. Let him go completely, or the deal is off.” She held my gaze. I knew what needed to be done. “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Shapiro. Get home safely,” I offered, and then turned my back on her and headed up the driveway with my shoulders as high as I could muster.

“Rumors are still flying around about Drew’s death. I think it was confirmed that the car accident happened in a sundown town.” One of the men sucked his teeth. “Driving in the rural South is detrimental to any Negro man’s health.”

In her head she had started referring to the home as the House of Eve. Eve as in Adam and Eve, the first mother of all living things. She tried to picture what her Eve looked like. Was she tall or short, have long hair or bobbed? Was she carrying the baby high or low? And the question that plagued her the most: Was Eve happy to turn her baby over to the loving care of William and Eleanor for her second chance, as Mother Margaret had put it, or was that all hogwash?

“I scratched out a letter to my aunt when I got here, and she agreed. They all said yes, but they lie. All of them.” She started crying again.

“I heard Mother Margaret on the telephone this morning,” Loretta choked out. “What did she say?” “She called an orphanage for him. Saying that with his lazy eye he was no longer adoptable. She’s placing him in a home to rot away.”

I hoped the man she worked for wouldn’t touch her again, but I also knew that hope had never gotten any of us very far.

“All I want is what’s best for William. I’m his mother. I just…” She swallowed, more nervous than Eleanor had ever seen her. “Eleanor, I just want to protect my boy.” “No matter who gets burned in the process?” Rose swallowed. “Now that you are a mother, you will understand.” “I am not a mother.” “How can you say that? My son loves you. He has done all of this for you.” “He did it for you.”

The only way forward was to forget.