Wild Stars Seeking Midnight Suns (12 page)

Feeling good, and secure in her new life, her loneliness pressed her to invite her mother and sister over for dinner. It had taken three years for this decision. They had never been invited to her apartment. She had been afraid of what Weldon might see. She no longer cared.

Lily Bea was proud the day her family came to her house.

Her sister had brought her boyfriend because he had a car, a light blue, battered old Cadillac. They parked in the nice middle-class neighborhood, and got out of the car, making a lot of noise. Their voices were loud, and their laughter held a sharp, hard edge in it.

They entered the neat brick house with a bit of fanfare about the yard. “She ain’t buyin this house! She rentin!” Or, “I bet these people round here ain’t never seen no real people before! I wonder does any Black people live round here! She always tryin to be more’n what she is!”

At last they were inside, coats removed, and drink in hand. They all got a little drunk, because this was free liquor, and you don’t leave as long as there is some liquor still in a bottle. They had a good time trying to drag Lily Bea down.

They had a delicious dinner of some different food Lily Bea knew they didn’t get much of, if any. Sorty, with her usual razor-sharp smile, asked, “Where the real food? I had my mouth all set for some ham hocks or pork chops! What you call this? A rib roast? I cook my ribs in the bar-b-que pit!”

The pretty sister said, “How you got that man to do all’a this for you? You must’a hoo-dooed him! Ain’t nobody ever done nothin like this for me! Who’da thought a man id do all’a this for you! You even got a piano! You still tryin to play a piano?”

Sorty laughed as she said, “I go to church least once a month, and even God ain’t helped me get a good house like you got yourself ! You just got me that piece of junk I was already livin in!”

Through it all, finally Lily had them all settled at the table, grabbing over the food that looked so good. After they finished dinner Lily moved them into the living room. She was feeling pretty good, until she saw the boyfriend push Shadow off the couch, and kick the young startled cat out of his way. She picked Shadow up and held him in her lap.

Sorty, her mother, talked loud, cursing at times. For some reason she resented Lily Bea having more than she. “Girl, God knows you got nough room in this here house to bring your mama over here to live! God bless childrens who take care their mama! It’s bout time you let us come round you! You always did ack like a fool.

“Sweetheart,” she said, with that razor-sharp smile, “I don’t need to go home to that ole piece of junk you done got for me! I need to live over here wit you! I bet I could even take care a house like this, keep it clean and all, but I ain’t never had one.” She sighed as she took another drink. “Some people just has all the luck!”

Her sister, who had laughed and teased her when they were young, watched her boyfriend stare at Lily Bea, the “ugly.” Now her mean, ugly streak turned into something worse, mixed with self-pity and envy of Lily’s success. She felt her hate for Lily as it filled her mind, heart, and stomach. She said, “I don’t know how you lied yourself up on all this shit! I ain’t even got no house at all. We all need to move over here!”

She smiled at her drunk boyfriend as she said, “You could come on over here to see me in your Candillac. Let these folks round here know we like nice things too!” She looked at Lily Bea, saying, “We like nice things too! We a family! We s’posed to stick together!”

Lily Bea listened as she moved around, cleaning up a broken dish or glass, wiping up their spilled drinks and food. She had planned to spend the evening with them, but now, she helped them get ready to leave.

They were going out the front door when Sorty said, “Well, now we know the way over here, we be comin back to see you.”

Lily Bea, following them to their car to be sure they got in it and drove away, said, “No, don’t come over here until I invite you. I mean that. I work. I am very busy. The police will be here if you come and I didn’t invite you.”

So they grumbled, cussed, and fussed, as they closed car doors, looking back at Lily Bea standing in front of that pretty brick house. Sister felt hate, Sorty felt cheated. The boyfriend just felt sick because he had tried to empty that bottle without eating much food.

Lily Bea went back, thankfully, into her house to clean it up. She petted Shadow. “I know you are glad they are gone, too.” When she was putting things away she found three cigarette burns; one was long, as though the cigarette had been placed there and allowed to burn until it went out.

Lily Bea thought, “My golden apple has rotten spots. They don’t ever need to come to my home again.”

Loneliness always returns to some people when they don’t have someone to share the things they enjoy. Lily found herself thinking of Sol and Monte.

Weldon visited, bewildered. Lily Bea was still a woman he loved; but life with her had become so complicated and confusing. And the sex was over. He was a married man, and Lily wanted a future. She wanted a marriage of her own. What could he really offer her? She hadn’t asked for his help when she bought her house. He was glad she had the house, but sorry he had not had a part in it. She had made his life happy. Now . . . a lot of his sunshine was gone; he carried an ache in his heart constantly.

Monte was a musician; she had never heard they were responsible people to marry. She knew he liked her, but he hadn’t asked her to do more than hear his music. “He makes me laugh, and enjoy myself, though. He has never asked me to make love.”

Sol had a future as a jeweler, but he didn’t laugh enough, enjoy life enough. He was so serious. They talked economics and business often. He liked music, so they had quiet fun together. “He has never asked to make love to me.

“I have no real problems; just future problems. I’m coming along, though. I have peace, and God. I have nothing to be ashamed of in front of God anymore. And God will deliver me, I pray.” Her other solution was to work harder as she prayed, “Deliver me, please, God.”

One day, when a lady knocked on her door with Bible in hand, Lily Bea let her in; she was lonely. She wanted to talk. The lady became a regular visitor. Over time Lily Bea told the kind lady many of her private thoughts.

The lady told Lily, “You are young and foolish to think Beauty runs the world. If so, where is it? Beauty? It is in the eyes of the beholder. As a man thinks about others, so is he what he thinks of others. A person has to have some beauty in their self, to see the beauty in others which no one else may see. It never entered my mind that you were ugly. You are not ugly. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”

Lily Bea hugged those words to her breast, because they were true; they explained so much of her life to her.

Over the next year or so, both Monte and Sol became closer friends to Lily Bea. In time she learned they both wanted to make love to her. As good as her memories were of good lovemaking, she held herself back. She didn’t really know why. “I’m not ready. Besides, I would choose Weldon because I know what kind of love he makes.” But she didn’t want to do that either.

Quite happily she had run into Robert Earner a few days ago. He had finished college several years ago, and was home to visit his family. He had married, had two children and a divorce. He seemed glad to see her. They talked about the old days at the Clean Cleaners. He had asked for her phone number, twice, before she gave it to him. She looked forward to his call.

She dreamed of traveling, ships and planes taking her exotic places. She had the money, and could take the time. But she hadn’t done that yet either.

Shadow was grown, soft long fur, sweet and beautiful. And really was good company. They talked.

But, you know, loneliness was always just a thought away. One of those sad, lonely, rainy evenings, she sat in her living room with the fireplace burning. She was enjoying a glass of crisp white wine. Thinking. Lonely.

“Well, I guess I just have to prepare to be lonely.” Sadly, she repeated, “I’m alone.” She got up, fixed another glass of wine, and sat down to be sad again.

The house was bright, the music filling the rooms was mellow and good to her. The fire was bright. Shadow was stretched out, asleep, in front of it.

Another thought entered Lily Bea’s mind. “I am alone,” she smiled to herself, “but I’m in my own house.” She sipped. “I have a business. I am not only alone; I am free. I may be ugly, but I have men who like me, might love me one day. I am alone . . . but . . . I am free!” She sipped a bit. “I have a little savings. I have a future, if I’m careful. I may be alone, but, thank God, I am free. I can make any decision, do within reason, whatever I want to do. All I have to do is work hard, take care of my own health, and live! And travel, go back to school for whatever I want and can afford. I am free. I didn’t know this was where I was headed, but here I am . . . free!

“Thank You, God, thank You. You have delivered me.”

She sat quietly enjoying her peace. The telephone rang. She frowned. But . . . she went to answer it. Someone was trying to reach her.

Success

This Friday had been a ghastly, dark, and dreary rainy day. All the people who had planned to venture out into the night life of the city frowned out through their windows at the water-soaked streets.

Some, a few who loved the rain, anticipated a long night at home. A golden, crackling fire burning in the fireplace, a good meal cooking on the stove, or relaxing with a good book or a good mate. They smiled upon the view through their windows and the sound of rain upon their roofs.

It was the night of the yearly big-band event at the cheaply glamorous Well Come Nite Club. Every dance lover had planned to go, from scholarly professionals to the out-of-work who could afford the door charge and one drink.

As she talked on the telephone, attorney Tashyah Tillsdal looked through her oversized bay windows at the gray skies, disgustedly. Anxiety and disappointment showed on her very well-cared-for face. She had no complacent thought as she viewed her drenched lawn and the large dripping trees.

Tashyah, a single woman, had passed the bar examination three years earlier. In such a short time, she had done well for herself as legal representative for a few very important corporations.

She had had plans for the night, and was saying on the phone, “I had so looked forward to this special night of dancing, laughter, and fun at the Well Come Club. I know the club is a little beneath me. Nevertheless, so many different types of dancers congregate there. Black, white, red, brown, and tan people. No matter what type of music they play, jazz, rock and roll, blues, Latin rhythms, Caribbean, swing, rap, whatever, there is someone there who knows how to do it! And do it good!”

She listened a moment, then, “Even when there is no live music, the DJ is really hip and cool, with a broad spectrum of music to choose from.”

She listened, now and again, naturally.

“Well, I do love my home, but I’ve had it at least a year now. And, when I can, I get up on my days off and light my fireplace. I put on my music. I usually order in Chinese or pizza, and all that jazz. But . . . I get bored.” She checked her manicure as she listened.

“Well . . . but it’s not enough. There’s nothing to do after the fire is lit, and I’ve had my cup of tea, glass of wine, or diet drink, my order-in dinner; then what? After work, there’s just me. Alone.”

She listened with a frown. Then said, “Well, I do want a man, but I don’t want one of these self-centered, debt-ridden, boring, can’t make love asses. Who’s to want? . . .

“Married!?” She laughed a little. “Well, I do love him; I did, anyway. But I’m only twenty-seven and these nineteen- and twenty-year-olds give up so much ass and head, he didn’t have enough time to get to know all my perfect ways.” She laughed, then grew serious. “I have more serious things on my mind than sex anyway.”

She listened a moment, thoughtfully, then said, “Well, you know. A man has to come up to my expections. It is not easy to find and get a woman like I am: educated, well-read, looks good, dresses extremely well, and looks extremely good in my clothes!” She laughed at her own immodesty, but she meant it.

“Yeah, girlfriend, you said it! And a hot good body very well taken care of . . . yes!” She rose up to look out of the window again. “Well, this mess is still pouring down.” She relaxed back on the sofa. “I’m tired of sitting in this house all by myself doing nothing! Maybe someone, my dream man, might be there tonight. Yours too!”

She listened as she sat up again, “Well . . . let’s go anyway! The men of both of our dreams may be there tonight. It feels like a magic night to me.” In a moment, “Say what?”

An answer, “I don’t know about you, but I am a young woman. Twenty-seven is not old. My clock has many, many years to tick. Speak for yourself!” She took a sip of her drink and lay back to relax again.

“Girlfriend, it is said that men look over a good woman to get to all those freebee females out there who slobber for a man; no class, no manners, and no education, obviously. Lay on their backs and do anything in bed! Freaks! That’s why I don’t want you to bring your friend Betta, because men get wrapped up in her looks that say ‘I’ll do anything for you, and do it tonight!’ ” She listened a moment, then said, “I looooove myself, honey, and some man better do himself a favor and get me while he can. . . .

“Well, a man has to work to get me. That’s why I’m not married. A man has to show me something! I’ve worked hard to create myself. I am no passing fancy; I am the real thing! Don’t take me lightly! No, no. As James Brown, or was it Jesse Jackson, used to say, ‘I am Somebody!’ ” She laughed with her friend. “Of course you are!”

The laughter ended and Tashyah got serious. “Well, let’s get dressed and go anyway. I’m not afraid of a little water falling from the heavens!” She looked down, briefly, to check her pedicure. “Okay, a lot of water.” She checked her watch. “All right! I’ll meet you there at eleven.” She shook her finger at the telephone as she said, “Don’t you change your mind, Shirla!”

They said their good-byes, and she put the phone down as she said, “Silly bitch. Stay home and curl up with a good book indeed! If I curl up, it won’t be with a book! No wonder her man keeps two or three other women.”

Tashyah sat still, feeling the silence of her house for several moments, quietly thinking, as she looked through her blurry windows. Then she said, aloud, from some deep empty place in her soul, “Oh God, oh God. I am so lonely! All this big beautiful house, and the only problem is, it is empty! No one is ‘home’ except me.” Her mind mused as the rain pelted the windows, echoing her words.

Her mind clicked back to the moment. “But I can’t find a man sitting at home with a book! Not even the Bible! Which reminds me; I’m supposed to call my mother to let her know if I’m going to church with her or not. Well, I’m not going; ain’t no man, for me, sitting in any church. So I don’t want to talk to her. I need a man’s love, not God right now! I don’t care how good she thinks they may be!”

She checked her wristwatch again, and looked at the lovely clock on the mantel of the fireplace. “Three whole hours to wait.” She sighed. “It won’t take me more than one hour to get ready. I’ll just have another drink.”

So she sat alone, and listened to her music, sad blues music. All secure in her bank account, her profession, and her beautiful home. All alone.

Now, we all know there is nothing wrong with being alone, it is a desirable thing. And there is a time for everything. But the time of aloneness, peace, has to be what you want.

Now, it happened that way across the city, in another upper-class suburb, there was a young man named Gregory “Greg” Holes. Greg was widely considered a fine youngish man, still in his thirties. All his school days behind him, he was a successful optometrist.

He, too, was alone, standing in front of his living room windows with drink in hand, thinking. “Stormy weather. Well, if I go out driving, I’m not wearing any of my best shoes in this mess.” He sipped his drink, musing. “I ought to call Lawanta . . . or Betty, for some good conversation.”

He laughed a little as he turned from the window. “Kula won’t take me back in for the night, I know that. What’s wrong with these women anyway? They want the sex, but they want some kind of commitment . . . and I’m not about to get tied up in that shit. Once was enough! Nuba was enough! She thought I was too tied up in myself. Self-centered, she said. Well, what the hell else is better to be tied up with?”

He prepared another drink for himself. A strong drink. He was thinking of his college and football days. “All the girls you could want. Everywhere! The cast is cut down now, though. There ain’t nothing out there that’s good enough for me.” He took a long swallow. “You look into eyes and there is nothing but emptiness there.” He stood in front of the mirror awhile, silently thinking, not seeing the emptiness in his own eyes.

Greg knew about the dance at The Club, and he knew he was going to go. He was tired of his comfortable, masculine house, so richly furnished in a style that loudly proclaimed “A man lives here!”

He did not let women leave handkerchiefs or purses, earrings, or anything “by accident.” “Not here! This is mine. All for me. Yours truly!” He smiled at himself. “No, you leave your stuff at your own house . . . if you have one! These women are too dumb to have a house, they’d rather have a fur coat and a Mercedes. Or anything, rather than something sensible. Little, beautiful, lusty fools!!”

He chuckled as his thoughts continued. “BUT some of them are pretty, with nice, plump, smooth, rounded behinds, so . . . I guess I’m going to the dance, out in all this rain, and see what I can catch. No need to wear anything special; most of them at that club don’t know the difference anyway. They can just look at me, the man inside the clothes! My aunt is always trying to tell me I’m missing something if I don’t find God’s love, first. But, she can’t see all I do have!”

Later, he did take the extra time and attention for his clothes. He was a vain man, just like vain women. And he had hopes he didn’t admit to, even to his own self, because he was a cool player. Still . . . he was alone. After all, you can only look at yourself in your many mirrors just so long. And . . . it does not banish loneliness. You may love yourself, but you were really made to love someone else. And Love don’t love nobody, they say.

When he left his house, he ran carefully with his body bent to escape the splattering drops, to his Mercedes that was parked in his long driveway. As he turned the key, the motor gently roared like a well-taught lion. He was thinking, “Who knows, maybe that one woman will be there in the crummy club, after all.” He drove his flaming red, shining automobile into the night through the falling rain, flashing through the streets, looking through his windows to see if anyone would see him.

Reaching the club, Greg parked his automobile, very carefully, far away yet close enough for the lights to discourage thieves seeing that flashing red, beautiful car. Moments later, car keys casually jingling in his hand, he stood coolly, with his back to the bar, looking over the brilliant scene. Ceiling lights flashed to their own rhythms as the music blared. It was early, only ten o’clock or so. Rap was blasting out and into every corner, over and under everything in the room. Later, they would slow the music; play more bluesy-type, slow-dragging, funky music for those who wanted to grow closer before the night ended.

Greg smiled at the nearly packed crowd. Smiled as he surveyed and rated everyone his good eyes fastened upon.

Tashyah and Shirla parked and made their way hastily through the rain to the crowded entry of The Club. They stood a moment inside the door, shaking and brushing the rain away, removing their hats. They searched for the best place to sit among the crowded tables. The man who had taken their entry money leaned over to signal to a waitress, pointing at the lovely ladies. He smiled at them as he turned back to his job. “Near the dance floor!” Tashyah hollered to the waitress. Once seated, they, too, surveyed the room for likely dancers or . . . people they knew.

Greg, also watching the door, had seen the two women come in. Not much time passed before Greg caught Tashyah’s eye as she was taking a sip of her drink. She liked what she saw. She leaned close to Shirla, and nodded in his direction. “That one sure is a fine specimen of a man. Oooh wee! And that sports jacket! Three hundred dollars, if it was a dime! Look to see if he is still looking at me, at us.” She did not nudge Shirla; that was for schoolgirls to do. And you shouldn’t show other people what you may want for yourself. Shirla was finding her own anyway.

Tashyah could watch someone from the corner of her eye and see everything around her. That was one of the things that made her a good lawyer. She kept Greg in her sight.

Then, someone asked her to dance and she hopped up, gladly. She danced toward the bar so whoever “he” was he could see her and her smooth dance steps and body language. She could shake her booty with the best of them; well, almost.

Watching him, furtively, she saw him see her again, and was glad she had worn the almost see-through blouse, which she almost hadn’t worn on the rainy night. The last note sounded, and she flashed him a quick, titillating smile as she turned to make her way through the crowd, back to her seat.

Greg liked her style of dance and her body. But he thought her blouse was a cheap effort. He did like what he saw, though. When her partner walked away from her, he knew she was alone. He decided to watch her awhile, as well as two other ladies he had tabbed. After all, he may be a “lonely” man, but he thought “single” man was a better word for him. And, there were seven days in a week. Plenty of time, for everybody, in time.

Finally, there was only one hour before closing time. Greg had checked out the other two women in conversations; one was too nosy, and the other thought she was funny and witty, unsuccessfully. He discarded them and decided to ask Tashyah to dance.

Tashyah thought she knew exactly what he had been doing all the while. So when he started toward her, she became involved in pretend-deep conversation with Shirla. Disturbing Shirla and her new friend she was trying to talk with.