“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you’re sober.”
Honoree helped him into his nightshirt and watched him curl up beneath the covers and fall asleep. She was tempted to stay, Lord knows. Each time she ran into him, there were signs—signs of the boy she used to know, the boy she still might love. Just not enough to add up to a full deck of cards.
Once she was sure he’d fallen into a peaceful sleep, she tiptoed from the room.
* * *
Almost a week later, on the first Sunday in December, Honoree grabbed a few dollars from her stash and told Bessie to put on her best shift, a dress Honoree had made her. They were going out on the town—lunch at a diner and a trip to the cinema. Risky business considering the rent party hadn’t made as much dough as Honoree had hoped. The white thugs had put a damper on the hoopla, ending the party prematurely, but the day was too wonderful to stay inside.
The grumpy Bessie responded with an enthusiasticyes,which surprised Honoree. Bessie was struggling. Her morning sickness lasted half the day, and her swollen ankles took the rest of the day to shrink back to normal. Still, Bessie was more than ready to leave.
On the way to the L station, Honoree called Ezekiel at the auto body shop, inviting him to join them if he had time. It was fine if he showed up, and no worries if he didn’t. They’d been seeing more of each other at the Dreamland Cafe and at Miss Hattie’s when Honoree would walk Bessie to work. Always friendly and proper since the rent party.
She and Bessie boarded the L train to South Parkway and the Majestic Theater. Honoree loved the L train, a big circle of tracks that carried folks from one side of the city to the other in minutes. The Stroll was Honoree’s heart, but even if she danced in Paris, France, or on Broadway, Chicago was home.
Huddled up in their warmest layers, Bessie nudged her in the arm. “What are you daydreaming about?”
“The last time I went to the cinema,” Honoree began, “I saw a Charlie Chaplin motion picture, but I can’t recall the title.”
“Isn’t that the actor Archie likes?”
Honoree nodded. “Probably why I don’t remember the movie—”
“You don’t mind seeing the same Oscar Micheaux movie again?” Bessie asked. Honoree had explained that she didn’t mind. WatchingBody and Soulwould be different after meeting Oscar.
“I think it’s one of his best movies.” Bessie pointed. “The Diamond Diner is on the next block.”
With an after-church crowd filling the booths, Honoree and Bessie sat at the counter while looking up at the chalkboard and the daily specials.
“I’ll get a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll,” Honoree practically mumbled, shy about overindulgence, although everything looked delicious.
“I want ham and eggs, and biscuits, hot biscuits, and a sweet roll, too.”
“That is breakfast food, not lunch.”
“And the cinnamon roll and coffee is what?”
“Cheap,” Honoree said.
They were approached by a slender woman with deep dimples and a smile so wide her cheeks had to ache. “Bessie, how are you?” She leaned over the counter, cupped Bessie’s chin and kissed her on the cheek. “Been thinking about you. How did the party go?”
“Just fine, ma’am,” Bessie responded. “Everything was copacetic.”
She tilted her head at Honoree. “Is this your roommate, the chorus girl?”
“Yes, ma’am. Honoree Dalcour, originally from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.”
Honoree side-eyed Bessie. Had she mentioned Louisiana to Bessie? She was a Chicago girl. “Hello.”
“I’m Rochelle Diamond. Everyone calls me Rosie.” She peeked at Bessie. “She’s my cousin, twice removed.”
“We ain’t related,” Bessie said, shaking her head. “She worked side by side on the Chitlin’ Circuit, a few years back.”
“You were a baby, child. On your own and doing just fine. But for me and mine, we worked that circuit for thirty years. Probably since right after the Emancipation.”
“Rosie was the one who gave us a pan of macaroni and cheese for the rent party.”
Honoree warmed. “Thank you. The food was delicious.”
