“Why are you behaving so odd?” she asked Bessie. “Sometimes I think you’re mad at me. Or is it the baby that has you in a foul mood?”
“What happened to Isabelle in that movie could happen to me, except it wouldn’t be a dream. I’ll end up with a no-good man who hurts people and die stupid from grief.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not some girl in a motion picture. Don’t take what you see on the screen to heart. The film ain’t about real life.”
Honoree pulled Bessie around so she could see her face. Snowflakes had landed on her cheeks and eyelashes. Honoree gently brushed them away. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
“A colored girl don’t matter.” Her lips quivered. “And never will.”
“What?”
“You trust Ezekiel. Why? He shows up, and you chase me out of the kitchenette or run off with him, then you don’t see him for days. You wanna know why? ’Cause we don’t matter. He too busy racketeering and running with women like Trudy who don’t require much thought.”
“He doesn’t run with Trudy, and I don’t know why you are so riled up. Ezekiel is my business and none of yours.” Honoree stomped off.
“I hate them!” Bessie screamed behind her.
Honoree turned to see what all the fuss was about. But perhaps her eyes deceived her.
Bessie was stomping and shouting, “I hate them. The bastards keep hurting you and hurting you!”
She rushed toward her. “Stop screeching. Lord Jesus. You’re making a scene.”
“And then they hurt you again. I hate them!”
Honoree wanted to shake some sense into her, but she didn’t get the chance.
“Don’t touch me!” Bessie raised her hands and balled them into fists, with fat tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Calm yourself.” Honoree looked around, hoping no one would call the cops on them. “Have you gone mad—huffing through your nose like a boar in the woods, clawing at snow like a wild beast? What has gotten into you?”
People made a full circle, avoiding the freak show, as they walked by.
“Please relax, Bessie. You’re hysterical.”
“I ain’t hysterical. I’m just mad. Mad. Mad. Mad.” Bessie sobbed, rib-cracking sobs.
Honoree wished she could disappear as passersby paused to stare at the commotion Bessie was making. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m not gonna let you act like an idiot on a Sunday afternoon, not after we’ve had such a pleasant afternoon. If you want to behave like a fool, at least let’s go back to our neighborhood.”
The watery anguish in Bessie’s eyes dripped over her cheeks and chin, soaking her lips as she opened her mouth to speak.
“What?” Honoree’s temper shortened. “What do you want to say? Spit it out!”
Another gulp, then finally, she spoke. “I don’t want this baby. I swear to God! I wish it would die in my belly!”
CHAPTER 33
HONOREE
Sunday, December 6, 1925
Bessie cried so hard; the girl could hardly stay on her feet. Block after block, Honoree pleaded with her to stop wailing but only convinced her to take a step or two before the sobs overcame her.
After several false starts, they eventually reached the tenement building. Honoree had an arm wrapped around Bessie’s waist, hauling her up one stair at a time. She didn’t see Ezekiel until he spoke.
“What’s wrong with her?” He moved to her side, helping her keep Bessie upright.
“She’s pregnant and sixteen years old, and the man who got her this way isn’t the kind of man she wants to be around.”
