Midnight Without a Moon by Linda Williams Jackson

Author:Linda Williams Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Chapter Eighteen

SUNDAY, AUGUST 28

AFTER AUNT BELLE LEFT MY ROOM, I SLEPT FOR HOURS. And I didn’t care if Ma Pearl got mad at me. She could have come in and beat me with that black strap of hers, and I wouldn’t have cared. Aunt Belle had disappointed me so badly that I didn’t really care if I just suffocated in my hot room. The air was thick and muggy from what I assumed was middle-of-the-afternoon heat. I had no idea what time it was, but Queen’s bed was made. Not neatly, but made, nonetheless. Since we didn’t have church, she was probably already gone to visit her mama and her six siblings, which she occasionally did on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, although it was more like babysitting while Aunt Clara Jean went from house to house gossiping.

My body was stiff, and my head ached. Too much sleep. My body wasn’t used to sleeping past sunrise. I got up and stumbled through Fred Lee’s room, hoping someone was kind enough to have left me a basin of water so I could wash my face. There was none. I’d have to go outside to the pump and get my own. But at least someone, obviously Fred Lee, not Queen, had emptied the pot of the previous night’s contents. One less chore for the day.

On my way to the kitchen, I couldn’t help noticing the voices coming from the parlor, which was to the right of the front room. The voices belonged to Papa, Ma Pearl, Aunt Belle, and Monty. They were talking about the missing boy.

In the front room was a large rectangular mirror that Ma Pearl had gotten from Mrs. Robinson. Though the mirror was cracked straight down the middle, it still served its purpose of showing reflections—​twice. It hung on the wall next to a large picture of a longhaired, smiling Jesus—​also courtesy of Mrs. Robinson. Through the mirror I could see Papa perched in his chair, directing his attention toward the settee, where I assumed Aunt Belle and Monty sat.

“I knowed he did something,” I heard Ma Pearl say.

Standing on tiptoe, I could see that she was sitting in the chair next to the window, her arms folded defiantly across her bosom.

“Since when did speaking to a woman become a crime?” asked Aunt Belle, her tone icy.

“Any fool know it’s a crime when you is colored and the woman is white,” retorted Ma Pearl. “That boy oughta knowed better.” She paused, then said, “His mama oughta taught him better.”

“The boy is fourteen, Mrs. Carter,” said Monty. “He was born and raised up north. Things are different there. Negro youths and white youths attend the same schools even, so it’s only natural the boy would assume a few words to the woman wouldn’t harm anything. He was probably only being polite.”

“Things ain’t no different up north,” Ma Pearl said. “Y’all jest fool yo’selves into thinking they is. Colored is colored, and white is white. I don’t care where you run to.

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