Free The Red Rose Box by Brenda Woods Page A

dress. “My feet hurt.”
    Ruth said, eyes rolling, “Cuz you been wearing new shoes all day.”
    Aunt Olivia corrected her again, “Because, Ruth. Be lunchtime soon, Leah.”
    I sat down in a chair, loosened the laces, which seemed to help some, looked at the rows of clothes, and wondered why some folks have so much and others don’t have anything worth locking up.
    I tried to picture Mr. and Mrs. Bill Chapel living in Sulphur, raising pigs, skinning possums, sitting in an outhouse, mouths full of snuff, Olivia with a scarf tied around her head, cleaning Miss Lilly’s house, picking cotton alongside Elijah, but the picture wouldn’t come clear and I started to believe that some people were born to live one way, some people another. Mama would say that the Holy Spirit was going before Ruth and me, making our paths straight and clear. Sister Goodnight would look at our palms and say that fate was smiling.

    Lunchtime found us in Harlem and we sat at a lunch counter, round pink seats side by side. Colored serving colored. Ruth smiled and ordered a hot dog. I ate my first hamburger while Olivia took dainty bites from her tuna fish sandwich on toasted white bread with half a pickle and a carrot stick on the side. We each had vanilla ice cream shakes in tall glasses with whipped cream and a cherry on top. I slipped my shoes off halfway.
    The day evaporated slowly like water in cool weather.
    The rest of the afternoon we shopped for Olivia, buying what she called lingerie. Silk stockings and garter belts, white lace brassieres and blue nightgowns, see-through red robes, black lace underpants, things my mama would never look at, let alone buy. Ruth and I looked at each other sideways.
    We got in another taxi for the short trip to the hotel with our bags, packages, and hatboxes. The driver was as polite as could be and he winked at me like we had some secret. I began to think that New York City was full of winking men.
    Ruth poked me with her arm and said, “I wish we was home, down by the creek, waitin on Miss Lutherine to come by so we could throw a rock up after her and scare the dirty drawers off her wide b’hind.” I laughed until my belly ached.

    After dinner, I wrote Mama and Daddy a letter, telling them that we were fine, wishing they were here. I let them know that I was going to be a teacher, like Mrs. Redcotton, and that Ruth was probably going to be one too. I told them about the hotel, our sailor dresses and new swimming suits. I addressed it to Mr. and Mrs. Willie Hopper, 56 Creek Road, Sulphur, Louisiana, licked the envelope, sealed it, put a stamp on it, and gave it to the bellhop with the smooth skin, who wore a jade ring on his pinkie finger. He winked twice.

Ten
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    A red, white, and blue boat cut through the water, leaving small waves as it chugged along toward the Statue of Liberty and Uncle Bill teased us, “Are you sure this boat is not a slave ship, taking us to parts unknown or the lost continent of Atlantis? I sure hope we don’t sink because I can’t swim. Got feet made of stone.”
    He was usually serious and it was the first time I’d heard him make a joke. I thought about my daddy and his tall tales. Then I looked up at Uncle Bill and smiled. I looked at his feet and said, “No, they aren’t, you got feet like everybody else.”
    â€œWe oughta be in a balloon like in Around the World in Eighty Days, ” Ruth told him.
    He looked out over the dark blue water and rambled, “When I begged your Aunt Olivia to marry me, and I’m not ashamed to say I begged, I told her that I would give her the best of everything.” He turned to Olivia and asked, “How am I doin?”
    Olivia replied with a sly-as-a-fox smile, “You are a man of your word.”
    Then he turned to Ruth and me. “Make sure when you get married and waltz down the aisle that he’s a man of his word. That’s the one