|
Nighttime
“Judge a man not by what he says but by what he
chooses to tell you. You hear me Lilly,” Mama
said. I was sitting on the floor underneath her
vanity, peeking out as she dressed her lips red
from a gold tube. She took a sip from the pretty
glass without leaving a mark on the rim. The
glass was pale pink like a flower with gold
floating around the top edge. Mama only used the
glass at her dressing table; she used all her
pretty things when she was about to go out. She
said later on she would teach me how to drink
from a glass without messing up my lipstick, but
now she had to get ready for her Nighttime.
“Mr. Jones is coming to get me tonight. He’s a
nice man. You like him don’t you baby? If you’re
good, maybe he’ll have a present for you. He
said that I was so pretty that he was going to
reserve a VIP table tonight for us, right up
front.”
Mama gets up and puts another record on. She has
on her slip and the thin stockings she buys from
Mr. Jones who sells beauty products from a case
door to door. Sometimes, even when Mama doesn’t
have money Mr. Jones lets Mama have stuff and
gives me things too--little bitty thin soaps or
flower perfume in tiny glass tubes. I’m glad
that Mama is still in her slip cause that means
that she won’t leave me yet. Her shoes are black
with the toes peeking out. She dances a few
steps, testing out her new shoes and takes
another sip from the pink glass. She motions for
me to come dance with her but I shake my head
no.
Mr.
Jones gives me presents but I still don’t like
him. He smells too perfumey and I saw him with a
woman once on my way home from school. His face
is nice but his eyes are not. And his teeth are
not. He smiles at the wrong time. The woman that
was riding in his car looked sad. I don’t want
Mama to look like her.
When Mama works, she wears her hair in a tight
bun on the top of her head that she wraps in a
scarf to try to keep it from napping up. Today
Auntie B came with her hot comb and curlers that
she heats on the stove. She wanted to be really
pretty for tonight cause Miss Earnestine down
the hall curls her hair for free, but Auntie B
charges her five dollars. Momma takes her hair
out from the curlers and it rests heavy and
shiny on her back. Auntie B gives me a quarter
from Mama’s money, and I put it in my pocket.
I
don’t want it to be time for Mama’s Nighttime,
but it’s coming. All that’s left is the dress.
It’s not new like the shoes but it’s still
pretty. It’s like a bathrobe, light blue with
white flowers that wraps around her like a hug;
she ties it closed in a bow on her hip. Mama
puts the pretty things in her little purse. Not
the big one she takes to work, but the little
one with the hot pink lining. The lining makes
me smile for a minute. It’s like a surprise, but
then the purse is closed, and all Mama’s pretty
things are about to leave me.
Mama makes me go to bed now. She fluffs my
pillow and pulls the blanket under my chin even
though it’s hot outside. I let her, even though
I’m hot and will throw off the blanket when she
leaves. I pretend to be sleep and she turns out
the light. When my room is dark, I hear the door
open. It’s not Mr. Jones. Instead of perfume, I
smell grease and cleaner. Sam sits with me when
Mama goes into the Nighttime. He cleans the
building and fixes things and has a free
apartment. Mama said Sam was a man who asked too
many questions. Mama doesn’t like him like that,
but he’s my favorite dad. After the door closes,
I sneak to the window and watch Mama go into the
Nighttime with Mr. Jones and his mean teeth.
Sam
puts on one of Mama’s records and drinks from a
paper bag. It makes him stinky, but I still love
him best. I think Mama makes him sad, but he
still sits with me so I won’t be scared. Sam
comes in my room and pulls my blankets up again.
I stop pretending to sleep and dream. I dream
that I’m inside Momma’s purse riding her hip
with the pretty things that she takes into the
night. When she opens the purse to get her
cigarettes from the silver case or her lipstick
she smiles at me and then closes me up again.
Loud, angry voices float up from the street and
wake me up. Sam comes in and tells me to stay in
bed, he’ll be right back. I go to the window and
look out and see Mr. Jones’s car that I know is
blue like Nighttime, but looks black to me now.
The door is still open and I can see the car’s
light colored seats.
“You gonna flirt with another nigga right up
under my nose? After I spent all that money on
you?”
“It’s not like that Wesley. I promise. I knew
him from school. Back in Mississippi. I told
you,” Momma screamed.
I
couldn’t see them. They were in the alley out of
my sight, but I could still hear them. I got
back in bed and pulled the covers up to my chin
and closed my eyes as hard as I could. But I
could still hear the voices through my window.
Then I heard the sound I knew by heart.
“Who’s clever now, bitch!” Mr. Jones said, and I
can see his not nice teeth even with my eyes
closed. Sam is downstairs now. I can hear the
door slam on the Nighttime car and it’s a long
time before I hear the door to our apartment
open and close again. Sam comes in and checks on
me and I can see Mama in the light of my open
door.
“She’s sleep,” Sam says. He knows I’m faking,
but we know it will make Mama feel better. Sam
leaves my door cracked a little when he leaves,
and the light cuts my bed in two. When all the
lights are off except in the front room where
Sam drinks from his paper bag, I take the
quarter that Aunt B gave me from my night table
and put it in my mouth. Tomorrow I’ll tell Sam
how it tastes.
|
Jamey
Hatley was born and raised in