Free Misfortune by Nancy Geary Page A

younger families like yourselves wanting to come in.”
    “Just say it, George. We weren’t accepted.” The words fell flat.
    George inhaled deeply. “Henry, if it had been up to me, you know it would be different, but I’m only one of six. People are very reluctant to let in anyone new, complaints of the club being too crowded, parking problems, you name it.” He hoped that he sounded sincere. “You know how people are. Figure they’re in so they pull the ladder up behind them. In fact, there was a concerted effort to admit only legatees, given the numbers.” As the words escaped from his mouth, George realized his mistake.
    “Louise’s parents have been members for years.”
    “Yes, yes, that’s right. What am I thinking?” George mumbled. Then he changed his tack. “The issue, Henry, is that Louise is well-known. She grew up here, has been a junior member. People don’t know you in the same way.”
    “Come on, George. Don’t bullshit me.”
    “I’m not, really,” George pleaded. “I’m optimistic about your chances for admission next time round. You know politics.”
    Henry stared down at his folded hands.
    “We both know that there are six very different people on the committee. You had Wally, Wally Lovejoy. He’s crazy about you both. You had me. Of course you had me, but for people like Jack Von Furst, Gail Davis, you’re just a name on an application.” George could not bear to identify the true source of the problem. “Maybe Louise could work on Gail, play a little ladies’ doubles, have a drink afterward, you know how it is, talk charities. Isn’t Louise involved in…what’s that charity? YOUTHCORE, that’s it, I knew the name would come to me.” Henry didn’t respond. George continued, “I’m pretty sure Gail volunteers there. Anyway, next time the focus has to be on gathering momentum, getting a real show of support across the board.”
    “There won’t be a next time.”
    “Oh, come on, that’s ridiculous, lots of members have to go two, three years—”
    “Let’s cut to the chase,” Henry interrupted. “I’m a black man, a black man married to a white woman, and that won’t change. Not next year. Not any year.”
    George sat without moving. He felt numb.
    Henry’s voice, low and controlled, resonated. “I shouldn’t be surprised, now, should I?” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. “In fact, as I think about it, Louise and I must have put you all in an awkward position. Here we are, a decent, successful, some might say prominent family, and for you to refuse us, you’d have to admit to yourselves that race is still an issue. That couldn’t have felt too good, now, could it?”
    “It wasn’t like that,” George tried to reason, although he knew his efforts were futile.
    “What I wonder is, who was willing to admit that? Were you? Were you at least honest?”
    George didn’t reply.
    “It’s not as if I hadn’t imagined it could happen this way. In fact, if I let myself, I can hear the conversation. ‘We’ll be filled with coloreds before we know it.’ ” Henry mocked imitation. “Was that it? What did they say about Louise, George? Were you all sorry she married me? What did they say about my girls? I want to know what was said about Eliza and Madeleine.”
    “Nothing. Not a thing. The girls weren’t discussed.”
    “Well, then what happened?”
    “There wasn’t a vote,” George whispered.
    “What?”
    “We abstained. We moved to abstain. So that you could reapply next year.”
    “I’m not a fool.” Henry knew the procedures.
    George looked down. He hadn’t wanted to explain about the threatened blackball or any other details of the deliberations. He already had breached etiquette by breaking the news to Henry himself. “It wasn’t going that way.”
    “Who kept me out?”
    “I—I can’t tell you,” George stammered. “The meetings are secret. You know that. My hands are tied.”
    “
Tell me!
”