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“I’ll be moving back to Maybelle’s tomorrow,” I said. “It’s time.”
Moody didn’t reply.
“It’ll be better for Abraham once I’m out of here,” I said. “And for you.”
No answer.
I said, “The only reason those bastards come around is because I’m here.”
Nothing. She stared out at the street.
“Thanks to y’all, I’m much better now. I’m feeling fine. I’ve got some decisions to make.”
Her silence and stubbornness just went on and on, and I gave up trying to pierce it. I sat back and watched the gray light filling in all the blank dark spaces.
I think we sat another ten whole minutes without a word. The sun came up and cast its first shadows of the day.
At last Moody said, “You know I ain’t never gonna sleep with you.”
I considered that for a moment.
“I know,” I said. “Is it because I’m white?”
“No,” she said. “Because I’m black.”
Chapter 74
“I AM JUST AS SORRY AS I can be, Mr. Corbett, but we simply have no rooms available at this time,” Maybelle said to me. “We are full up.”
The dilapidated rooming house seemed strangely deserted for a place that was completely occupied.
“But Abraham came by and paid you while I was incapacitated,” I said.
“Your money is in that envelope on top of your baggage,” she said, pointing at my trunk and valises in a dusty corner of the center hall. “You can count it, it’s all there.”
“You accepted my money,” I said, “but now that I need the room, you’re throwing me out? That makes no sense.”
Up till now, Maybelle had maintained her best polite southern-lady voice. Now the tone changed. Her voice dropped three notes.
“Look, I ain’t gonna stand here and argue with the likes of you,” she said. “I don’t know how I could make it any clearer. We got no rooms available for you. So if you don’t mind, I will thank you to go on and leave the house now.”
“I can’t carry this trunk by myse
lf,” I said.
“Why don’t you get one of your nigger friends to help you,” she snapped. “That’s what I would do.”
“I’ll take the valises and send someone back for the trunk,” I said.
I stuffed the envelope in my pocket, picked up a bag in each hand, and walked out into the blazing noonday sun of Eudora. Now what?
Sweet tea. That’s what I needed, a frosty glass of tea. And time to think things through. I went to the Slide Inn Café and sat at my usual table. I sat there for almost twenty minutes. I could not seem to get the attention of a waitress. Miss Fanny wouldn’t even meet my eye.
Oh, they saw me. The waitresses cast glances at me and whispered among themselves. The other customers—plump ladies in go-to-town dresses, rawboned farmers, little girls clinging to their mamas’ skirts—they saw me too. When I dared to look back at them, they turned away. And I remembered what Abraham had said: There’s cowards in both places. That’s why the bullies can have their way.
Finally, Miss Fanny approached with a glass of tea, dripping condensation down its sides.
She spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Corbett. We don’t all feel the same way about you. Personally, I got nothing against you. I like you. But I ain’t the owner. So you’d best just drink this tea and be on your way. You’re not welcome here.”
