“Well, Martha has come with news.” Sadie clapped her hands together with so much glee that it caused her husband to grin too.
Martha cleared her throat and tugged on the bow tied around her neck. “I was going to save it for later, but since we are all here…”She raised her voice over the piano improv of the album playing from the next room. “Rita, we’ve reviewed your application for admission to Penn Law.”
Penn Law? Rita had mentioned to Ozzie that she was applying to Temple and Drexel. University of Pennsylvania was Ivy League. He could barely afford to send her money for Lincoln.
“I am pleased to say that we are extending to you our very first Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander Scholarship, named for yours truly.” Martha pointed at Sadie, who stood beaming. “The scholarship will cover your full tuition and books.”
“What?” Rita brought her hands to her mouth. Then her bottom lip started to tremble. “This can’t be happening.”
“You’ve earned it.” Martha grinned.
“Oh, my.” Rita reached for Ozzie’s hand to help steady herself. Ozzie stood, just as stunned. His wife was going to Penn Law. She was going to become the lawyer she had always dreamed of being, and at one of the premier schools in the country. Suddenly, it felt like the collar of his white shirt was too tight on his neck.
“I knew well that the only way I could get that door open was to knock it down. Now it’s your turn,” Sadie said, pushing her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose.
“Thank you, thank you.” Rita embraced Sadie, and they rocked.
Martha touched Rita’s elbow. “I’m committed to helping deserving Negro students like you have the opportunity to break through these bullshit ceilings. This scholarship, named after our first Negro woman to graduate Penn Law, is just the beginning.”
“Well, this causes for a toast,” Raymond said, flagging down the woman with the tray of drinks.
Yes, a drink,Ozzie thought. He needed something to slow down the thumping in his chest.
“To Rita becoming one of the finest lawyers this city has ever seen.” Raymond held up his glass. They all drank to that.
“I’d like to propose a toast too,” Rita said. “To my new husband. Without him, none of this would be true.” She held up her glass. Everyone looked at Ozzie, and as he held his glass to his lips, he realized that he was the only one who had drained his entire flute on the first toast. He leaned over and kissed her cheek instead.
“Congratulations, baby. Dreams do come true,” he said, just as the music changed to a slow and somber tune.
“Oh, Rita, I want to introduce you to my soror. She is the current national president of our sorority. Maybe you will consider joining us one day.” Sadie winked and whisked Rita away, with Martha following behind them. The two men were left alone.
“Ozzie,” Raymond said. “Rita tells me you are working for the shipyard and that you volunteered for the army.”
Ozzie straightened his back. “Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a… warehouse specialist.” The lie felt tart on his lips. “I’m in the process of going back to school also. One of the benefits of the G.I. Bill.” He moved from one foot to the other.
“Wonderful. Which university?”
“I’ve put in applications at Lincoln and Cheyney State. I’m hoping to start spring semester,” Ozzie offered, and as the schools that he had been so excited to attend rolled from his lips, he remembered that the Alexanders had both attended Penn, and that Raymond had attended Harvard as an undergraduate. All of a sudden, his dreams felt foolish and small.
“Ambitious, just like Rita. I love it.” Raymond clapped him on the back. “Come, let me introduce you around.”
The party was now in full swing, and Raymond stopped to introduce Ozzie to a dentist and an orthodontist who were arguing over whether eighteen-year-old Hank Aaron had made the right choice leaving the Indianapolis Clowns for the Boston Braves.
Then they stopped in the kitchen, where a bar was set up and a man in a black suit was pouring the real stuff. Ozzie felt his tongue salivate as Raymond got into a conversation with three men holding double old-fashioned glasses.
“Ray, I love this album by Bud Powell,” said the man wearing a tweed sport coat. “It’s one of his best, but whenever I hear it, it reminds me of how awful things got for the brother. He’s one of the baddest piano players I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, that beating he took on Broad Street by the railroad police changed the trajectory of his life,” commented Ray.
“Don’t it always.”
“Friend of mine said Bud is up at Pilgrim State now. You know—the psychiatric hospital. Got him on shock treatments. Said the doctors don’t even let him near the piano.”
“That don’t make no sense. That cat was a genius.”
