“Politics.”
“Huh?”
“Or maybe I should say it was a family thing.” Joyce looked confused. “When Aunt Mattie’s godson Grady got out of the army, he needed a job.” I let my shoulders droop and started fidgeting in my seat. “She had to let me go so she could hire him.” I had told Mac and everybody else the same story. I prayed that he and Joyce would never find out that I’d been fired for trying to pick the pockets of one of the regular tricks.
“That’s a damn shame. Well, you’ll never have to worry about something like that happening now. I don’t want to work in the store and everybody knows it. My relatives are probably as trifling as yours. And that’s one thing my mama and daddy don’t tolerate. But most of our folks live in Mobile and Birmingham and only come around when they want something, so there is no chance of Daddy or Mama firing you to give one of them your job.” Another few awkward seconds of silence passed. “You . . . uh . . . ever been close to being married?” she asked with a little bit of hesitation.
Joyce’s question caught me off guard, but I didn’t waste no time answering it. “Nope. But I’m more than ready to settle down. . . .”
I ain’t never seen a person’s face light up so fast. This poor woman was screaming for attention, and I planned to give her all I could. “Me too. I’m itching to get married and have children.”
I was so glad that our waitress finally brung our food before I had time to say anything else on the subject of marriage. The interruption would give me a few moments to reorganize my thoughts. I wanted to continue saying the things I knew Joyce wanted to hear.
Chapter 7
Joyce
MOSELLA’S WAS LOCATED ON ONE OF THE BUSIEST STREETS IN THE colored part of town. It was owned and operated by Mosella Cramden, a heavyset woman in her seventies with a sharp tongue and a lazy eye. She was one of my mother’s closest friends and one of the nicest people I knew. Like my parents, she did all she could to help people get through the Depression by letting some of her regular customers eat meals on credit when they didn’t have any money. She even passed out free sandwiches on the street four or five times every month. The small dull-brown building had once been a colored funeral parlor until ten years ago when a mentally disturbed man broke in and strangled the undertaker. People swore that the place was haunted by the spirits of the dead undertaker and some of the people he had prepared for burial. I’d never seen a ghost on the premises, but a lot of people claimed that they had. Every item on the menu was so good, some people would come in twice in the same day. There was a big boxy black phonograph and a stack of records on top of a milk crate near the door. If you wanted to listen to some music, you had to drop a nickel in the Mason jar on the floor next to it, and Mosella would let you pick out the five tunes. That record player never stopped playing.
I was enjoying Odell’s company and listening to a record by a new singer named Billie Holiday, not to mention Mosella’s fried pork chops and collard greens that we were smacking on. But I was anxious for this dinner date to end. I was getting tired of other patrons staring at us, and it was making me uncomfortable. I knew most of these lookie-loos’ business and they knew mine. They were probably just as surprised to see me out in public with such a handsome man as I was.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. My heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was trying to escape.
“Joyce, I’m really enjoying your company,” he told me, looking at me like he wanted to lick my face.
I lifted a napkin and wiped off my lips and chin. Another thing about the food at Mosella’s was that it was so messy, by the time you finished a meal it looked like you’d been swimming in a bowl of grease. “Um . . . thank you,” I croaked. I cleared my throat and added, “I’m enjoying yours, too.”
Of all the men I’d known, Odell was the only one who seemed to be sincere. He had no reason to lie to me, so I believed everything he said. But when I heard what he said next, I froze. “I don’t want to sound like some of them jackasses that’ll say everything they think a woman might want to hear, but . . .” I held my breath when he stopped talking and stared at his plate. When he looked back up at me, there were tears in his eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” His question almost made me fall out of my seat. Except for my daddy and the preachers I knew, love was a word no other man had ever said in my presence.
I gulped. “I guess I do. It happens all the time in some of the books I read. Why? Do you?”
He nodded. “Sure enough, baby doll.”
Baby doll? No man had ever called me such a cute name. “Oh, okay.” I shrugged. “Are you telling me that ‘love at first sight’ happened to you before?”
“Something like that.” Odell coughed and cleared his throat and gave me a serious look. “It ain’t never happened to me . . . until today.” He reared back in his seat and scratched the side of his head as he gazed into my burning eyes. I wasn’t just nervous now; I was in a state of shock. “Before I go on, tell me if you think I’m moving too fast.” There was a pleading look
