But she couldn’t wait for his tongue to loosen. She had something dreadful to say, but her nerve lost its way.
“Go ahead,” he urged, sensing her disquiet. “It’ll be all right. No matter what you have to tell me, it’ll be fine.”
He patted her knee, bolstering her courage.
“I slept with a boy who lives in the tenement building at the end of the block. My mama said he is the man I should marry.”
Ezekiel’s black eyes glistened with an incredible softness as his fingertip scratched an imaginary imperfection on his perfect brow. When he spoke, his voice was as calm as a river with no place to flow. “Do you love him?”
“No,” she replied.
“Do you love me?”
“Since forever.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. You’ve never made love with me, so to our bodies, and our hearts, making love with each other would be our first time. And that’s all that matters.”
His words surrounded her heart, and she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his. With a hand pressed to her cheek, he covered her mouth with his mouth, and they kissed, a different kind of kiss from any other they’d shared.
Hidden beneath a translucent sky and away from her mother’s disapproving gaze, they made love. Quiet, gentle love, and afterward, he asked her to marry him.
Blood pounded in her ears. A drummer sat on her shoulder, gently tapping a beautiful rhythm. “Ask me again in the daylight,” she told him.
He promised he would and then left for home.
When she curled up in the cot next to her mother, she wept silent tears, joyful tears until she fell asleep.
The next morning was laundry day. Her mother left for the Baileys’ house before Honoree awoke. Their usual pattern. She’d join her mother later to prepare the midday meal. That morning, before Honoree dressed, her mother returned.
“We’re moving back to Louisiana.” The door slammed shut behind Cleo Dalcour.
A wedge of something vile cut into Honoree’s throat. “We can’t up and leave town. We can’t leave the Baileys with no one to clean or cook for them.”
Cleo pulled a suitcase from beneath the bed. “Can’t you hear, child? We don’t work for the Baileys no more.”
Honoree could scarcely breathe. Her vision blurred, and a violent noise filled her head. Too loud. Too much. Too unbelievable to believe. What was her mother saying? What had happened at the Bailey house that morning? Cleo was lying. Where was Ezekiel? He’d promised to come back—he’d promised.
“What did you do?” she demanded of her mother.
“I didn’t do a thing. Mr. Bailey closed his house during the middle of the night and moved his family outta town.” A suitcase struck the floor. “None of this was my doing.”
Honoree’s heart jerked inside out. “All the Baileys are gone?”
“The mother, the father, and the three boys.” Her mother dragged another suitcase into the center of the kitchenette. “Chicago ain’t the place for us no more. We’re moving back home.”
“To sharecropping?”
“And why not? Your daddy’s dead. My baby daughter’s dead. The only job I had is over. Everything we’ve tried to do here dies, disappears, or laughs in our faces. I’m going back to Baton Rouge.”
A storm ignited in Honoree’s chest. “I’m not leaving Chicago.”
“You go where I tell you to go.” Her mother’s blistering gaze frightened Honoree, but this day, she’d face her fear.
The morning sun filtered into the kitchenette. The gray in her mother’s braided hair shimmered. Honoree squeezed her arms around her stomach until her breath caught. “I’m not leaving Chicago, Mama. No matter what you say.”
“Because of that boy?” An ugly sound came from her mother’s throat. “You think I didn’t notice? You think he wants more than what you gave him on the roof last night? You’re a fool. He is Negro royalty, and you are the daughter of a sharecropper. Forget about him. He and his family forgot about us.” Her mother’s chest heaved, and her plain dark face grayed. “The Baileys are gone. And so are we.”
A ringing sound went off in Honoree’s head. With every breath, it grew louder and shriller. Her mother may have forgotten how to love, but Honoree hadn’t forgotten. She blinked back tears, grabbed her shopping bag from beneath the bed, and picked up every piece of clothing within reach. A moment later, she was standing in front of the door, shaking in her lace-up boots. She reached for the doorknob but then turned stiffly toward her mother. “I don’t believe you. Ezekiel would never leave me without saying goodbye. You’re a liar.”
