Free Betsey Brown by Ntozake Shange

dance and had she ever seen the Shirelles. Betsey was in a sweet daze through most of the conversation. She liked the talk best when Eugene dribbled the ball right next to her dress, so his leg or hand touched her shoulders. She liked the shape of his calf under his pants and the smell of his dampness mixed with the evening’s.
    â€œI guess you’ll be going when Charlie comes back, huh?” Betsey looked away as she felt out Eugene’s intentions.
    â€œWhy would I do that, when I came to see you? I see ol’ loud-mouthed Charlie every day.”
    With that Eugene looped the ball round Betsey’s back and caught it so his arms were on either side of her, his face directly in front of her. Betsey tried to keep her eyes open. In the movies, people closed their eyes when their faces almost touched, but that was almost kissing and Betsey’d never been kissed. She tried to keep her eyes open and Eugene kept looking in them, coming closer and closer till their lips met and Betsey’s eyes closed of their own accord.
    This kiss was soft and light, like petals of protea or Thai orchids. This kiss was a river wisp and innocent as dawn. It never stopped. They breathed a little and their lips parted as simply as they’d joined.
    Eugene backed up and flung the ball through the air. Betsey lilted about in her glory.
    â€œMaybe I’ll come back by here, if it’s awright with you? You sure are pretty, too pretty to be Charlie’s cousin.”
    â€œOh, if you were to come by, I’m sure I’ll be around somewhere.”
    â€œWhat about your boyfriend who’s so handsome?”
    â€œOh, I forgot about that, but don’t you worry. He’ll never find out. Really, he lives very far away,” Betsey cooed, knowing the closest she’d ever come to having a boyfriend was this boy standing right in front of her.
    â€œBetsey—oh, no, I’m sorry—Elizabeth, may I kiss you again? You kiss so good.”
    Eugene drew up next to Betsey and put his face real close to hers one more time, but Betsey’s eyes didn’t try to stay open. Betsey’s eyes lowered and words she’d heard from Vida somehow strayed from her lips: “I think that might be a bit forward, Eugene.” Then she stood glowing right next to him, so the hem of her dress danced along his back. “Maybe if you were to come calling again, I might see things differently.”
    Betsey was thinking now on what she’d heard Liliana and Mavis discussing. Some “she” out there getting it or giving it to Eugene Boyd himself. No. He could wait till some other time. She needed to know if he was serious; besides, Vida had come out on the porch to crochet with the sunset and to make sure this darned boy went on his way.
    â€œGrandma, this is Eugene Boyd. He’s a friend of Charlie’s.”
    Vida began her crocheting, some afghan for one of her daughters, swinging in the rocker reserved for her. “I suppose that’s why you’ve got your Sunday dress on and Charlie’s gone to the store. Good Evening, young man. Boyd. Seems like I’ve heard that name before.”
    â€œYes, Grandma. Eugene plays ball for Soldan.”
    â€œNo, that’s not what I mean. I mean I think there’s some Boyds from Columbia, or maybe they were from Charlotte. Carolinians, ya know.”
    â€œNo, M’am. My folks are from Mississippi.”
    â€œOh, what a shame. I thought you might be a Boyd.”
    Betsey and Eugene looked at each other, eyes twinkling, but fully aware they’d had their time for the day. Eugene teasingly dribbled the ball to Betsey, who took it up in rhythm. After all, she was Charlie’s cousin.
    â€œGood evening, M’am. It was nice to meet you.” Eugene waved to Vida, who looked up, nodded, and went right on crocheting. Then Eugene turned to Betsey and whispered, “Maybe next time you’re up in your tree, you’ll be