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After our food was served, I placed my napkin in my lap, hooked my fingers together and raised my elbows to the table. Dad usually blessed the meal, but he hesitated. I said, “I would like to say the blessing.” They both bowed their heads.
“Thank you, God, for this food and for the enlightenment of Your word.” They joined me in the “Amen.”
I said, “Mother, Dad, I have been thinking a lot about my life and my goals. Pastor Brown’s sermon today gave the timeline for my goals. I want to marry Ethel. If she can be a part of my life as I go away to Blue Ridge School in the fall, I could concentrate on my education. We will get married sooner rather than later.”
The first thing out of my dad’s mouth was raw and louder than I wanted, “Have you knocked up that girl?”
I could tell that the subject never entered my mother’s mind because once Dad spoke, her face moved from a listening smile to wide eyes and her mouth dropped open. Mother sat stiff but moved her eyes to look around us. I could tell she was hoping no one heard her husband. The couple at the counter near us faced forward and dropped their heads toward their plates as if to be invisible.
Then Mother gave herself permission to speak, but only in a whisper. She leaned across the table, her jaw clinched as she spoke, “No, you cannot get married to that girl! She is beneath you. She will always be a farm-hand. You need a wife who can support you while you practice law or become a doctor. She does not have the social graces to live that kind of life. And she is a Methodist!” Now her face was flushing red and the veins in her neck were stretched taunt.
I could feel the anger in my voice elevating. But I spoke slowly and was determined to make my point. I said, “Mother, I love Ethel. She is the only one that will love me enough to help me become whatever I decide.”
Dad persisted but in a somewhat lower tone, “Answer me, boy. Is Ethel pregnant?”
I summoned the strength to be truthful. “Yes, sir, she is carrying my child. Pastor Brown said today that if we cannot resist temptation of the body, then we should marry. Marriage is the way to bless our love in God’s eyes and not be sinners. You both taught me to follow the word of God.”
Dad fell back against the booth, threw his napkin in his plate and said, “We are getting out of here!” He grabbed his wallet, tossed some money on the table and got up. “Come on you two. This is no place to talk about this!”
Mother slowly slid across the booth without looking at me. After she followed my father out, I rose from the booth dejected. Having this conversation in the diner had not been a good idea after all.
As soon as we got in the car and closed the doors, the yelling started.
My father’s face was practically purple when he shouted, “What the hell were you thinking, boy? You are too young to have a kid; you are still a kid yourself! You know nothing about how hard life is!”
Mother raised her own voice to be heard. “You have ruined your life, Frank! You think getting married will keep you from being a sinner? Well, it is too late for that! Becoming a father before you finish school is foolish! We had a plan. You agreed to that plan! We have provided for you so you could become a successful lawyer. Oh, I don’t care; you could be a doctor if you wanted. But you would be somebody!”
I was a bit embarrassed because we were behind glass, not a curtain. People could see and hear us as clear as if we were standing outside the car. Dad must have realized this and threw the gear shift into reverse. We screeched out of the parking lot.
I didn’t respond. I just wanted them to get it out. All the way back home they screamed out words and sentences, not always making sense.
Dad was really hollering and throwing out questions. “How do you think you can feed and clothe a child? It takes money! What about a house? Paying for school? A boy of 16 in school can’t do any of that!”
Mother managed a lower tone, but it was full of hatred as she tossed her own words at me. “She lured you into this, didn’t she? Oh dear God! You don’t have to be involved with her baby. It was her choice, so let her be responsible!”
They went on and on. I wished I was seven years old again when Dad would whip me for something I had done wrong and it would be over. I’d rather have that than shouting about it on and on. When we arrived home, I jumped out of the car and ran toward the house. Before I got to the front porch, I turned back to them and shouted, “I will not talk to you about this until you can be civil!” Those were my mother’s words coming out of my mouth. I ran up to the porch, shoved open the door, and ran to my room. I slammed the bedroom door and locked it.
I stood in the middle of my room full of loathing for my parents. I kicked the bedside table as hard as I could across the room. The lamp fell and shattered on the floor. I slammed my fist into the picture of our family that hung on the wall. I began to tear up everything that reminded me I was their kid and not my own man. I threw myself on the bed and yelled every curse word I knew.
During the next several hours Mother or Dad would come to my door and ask to come in or for me to come out. Each time I refused. The sun was setting, and I could smell dinner being prepared. I felt calm again. I began to rehearse the points that would be needed for this debate. It was not necessary for them to agree with what I was doing, just to accept the fact I was doing it. I did not need their permission. If I was old enough to be a father, I was old enough to make my own decisions. I picked up a few sheets of paper that had been slung across the room and began to look for a pencil in the carnage I had created. I started the list of retorts I wanted to make to what they had already said. I am just a kid—my age is not a factor. I am able to do everything Dad can do. Fix things, manage the farm, get a job, and provide for a wife. I wrote a list:
1.Ethel is beneath me. You don’t know Ethel. She is sweet, caring, smart, and knows what she wants. I am glad she wants me. I am the one beneath her in this world.
2.She forced me to “knock her up.” I have wanted her to be my girl for months and even years. She resisted my advances because she wanted to be sure we would not make a mistake. The first time we had sex was proof that we were ready to declare our love for each other. If you want me to describe it to you, I can.
3.Ethel can’t support me as a doctor or lawyer. That is your dream, not mine. I want to be a good man with a farm or a good job. I want to have a family. I will not be in “circles” that would judge who I am. I don’t want to be worried all the time, like Mother is, that we are not good enough.
4.Money to raise a child. I can make money by getting a job. Ethel is a baker and seamstress. She already is lining up some clients who will pay her. We can both finish school right here in Wilson County—for free. If we can’t live here, Ethel’s mother said we can live with her until we get on our feet.
I started a new list with the points I knew my parents would make but had not yet. I needed to think how to respond to those.
Who knows about this?
When will we get married?
When will the baby come?
No need to get married.
