Six
We missed seeing Patrice's squad pass by the house and her disappointment was
obvious when she popped in to eat dinner before the game.
"Mama!" Patrice complained. "Where were you?"
As Blanche struggled to respond, the twins mercifully provided a plausible, if not completely accurate, reason for our absence.
"Aw, that ol' sireen scared Gracie half to death," Danita put in first.
"Yeah, you shoulda seen it," ReNetta said, rolling her eyes. "Miz Ora had to carry her inside, hollerin' like a little baby."
Patrice's annoyance quickly turned to concern.
"Is she okay?" she asked Blanche.
"She fine," Blanche answered. "She been sleepin' ever since."
"I'm worried about her, Mama," Patrice said. "She hasn't been herself lately."
"Don't you worry none." Blanche tried to reassure her. "She go'n be all right. She jus' tired, that's all."
"She's been tired a lot," Patrice persisted.
"You best stop your fussin' and eat up now. Game starts in half an hour."
The rest of our meal passed in silence and Grace did not wake until Blanche put her into the taxi to go home.
It was a while before I got used to the constant commotion in the house each day after school, but I took to taking a nap after lunch, so I’d at least be rested up for the afternoon onslaught of laughing and squabbling. The twins often asked me for help with their homework. They seemed to be in awe of the fact that I had been to college. They were puzzled, however, as to why I had never actually taught school, as I had intended to do with my degree in Home Economics.
Up until that point, I had never questioned it myself. Sometimes it seemed like I was listening to the story of my own life and not telling it when I explained to the girls how different it was for women “way back then”. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had a nice life and Walter was good to me for all practical purposes. It’s just that their questions made me wonder how my life might have been different if I’d lived it for myself and not for the man I married.
I remember one of those conversations vividly. It had been decided that Blanche’s entire family including Marcus, who would be home on leave from the Army, would have dinner at my house for Thanksgiving. It was the first year we would do such a thing. Every year before, I had given Blanche a turkey and a ham, an extra twenty-five dollars in her paycheck and four days off for the holiday. By the standards of the day that was rather generous for hired help and it made me feel good, benevolent soul that I was.
Walter and I always ate dinner out after serving at the Episcopal Church’s benefit meal. Walter, an insurance agent and local philanthropist, used every opportunity he could to make contacts in the community. Charitable events were his thing and my job was to help coordinate the details and then show up in a nice dress. I was never a great beauty, but I cleaned up well.
The twins helped me polish the silver for Thanksgiving dinner. They wanted to know all about the silver and why we were spending so much time polishing it for use at only one meal. ReNetta was the more inquisitive of the two, although in all other ways the two were identical and I had yet to find a way to tell them apart.
“These sure are some pretty forks, Miz Beckworth.”
“They belonged to my mother,” I said. “She gave them to me when I married Mr. Beckworth in 1931.”
“Dang! That’s a long time ago.”
“Mmm…thirty-five years,” I agreed.
“How many times you reckon you used ‘em since then?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Not so many times lately, but fairly often when I was younger and Mr. Beckworth was trying to make a name for himself in Mayville.”
“What’s silverware got to do with that?” ReNetta asked.
“What, indeed!” I thought, but then I snorted a little and replied genially, “Back then, it was important to be a good hostess. Wives played a big role in their husbands’ success in the business world.”
“How come?”
I thought about this a minute. It was a perfectly reasonable question and it had a perfectly reasonable answer. I was sure of it.
“Well, it’s important to meet the right people if you want to increase your business.”
“Can I have some more polish, please?” Danita spoke up from the other end of the table. She had finished her stack of serving pieces. The quiet ones always finish first, I’ve learned.
“‘May I have some more polish?’ is how you ask that question, Danita.”
I ignored the roll of eyes as I passed the jar of silver polish to ReNetta and nodded toward her twin sister. ReNetta held it out for Danita, but kept on with the conversation.
“So, you used the silverware to meet people?” ReNetta had a knack for making me feel ridiculous, although I’m certain that was not her intent. She was genuinely puzzled by the whole idea.
“Okay, Miss Nosy, enough with the questions. I’m going to tell you a story. You just listen and then, if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to try to answer them.”
“You gonna tell a story?” Danita perked up at her end.
“Mmm-hmm. That okay?”
“Is it one Grace can hear? She likes stories.” Danita was the more maternal twin, always thinking of her little sister and trying to include her in things. ReNetta didn’t intentionally leave anyone out. It was just that she was a bit single-minded by nature.
“Grace is more than welcome to listen, although it may be a little boring for her.”
Danita was out of her seat before I finished speaking. She dashed from the room nearly causing Blanche to drop the armload of linens she was bringing into the dining room.
“Whoa!” was all Blanche could manage.
“’Scuse me, Mama,” Danita threw over her shoulder. “I gotta get Grace. Miz Beckworth’s gonna tell us a story.”
Blanche raised an eyebrow at me. “They botherin’ you, Miz Ora?”
“Not a bit,” I replied honestly.
It was Blanche’s turn to snort before she turned around and headed back for the kitchen.
When Grace and Danita were settled back down at the table, I began to tell my story.
“I met Walter Beckworth in 1928, when I was home from college for my father’s funeral. Walter was new in the insurance business, but he had inherited my father’s account and was helping my mother with the paperwork to collect on Daddy’s life insurance policy. Daddy died unexpectedly and Mother had never dealt with paperwork of any kind before. Needless to say, she was a bit overwhelmed. Now, I was perfectly capable of helping her with it, but when I saw how kind and honest Walter was, I stepped back and let him handle everything for her. As a matter of fact, I remember pretending to be a little overwhelmed by it myself, just so Walter would show up more often. I think that’s when I knew Walter had the potential to be my husband. I’d never met a man who could make me feign ignorance when my intellect was my greatest pride.”
“You sure use a lot of big words, Miz Beckworth.” It was Grace’s turn to make me feel silly.
“Nothing wrong with using big words, Grace.”
“Except if you don’t understand ‘em.”
“Which ones didn’t you understand?”
“All of ‘em.”
“Perhaps I’d better get to the point, then.”
“Yeah, perhaps.”
Grace wrinkled her nose and grinned. She may not have understood the words I was using, but she sure did know how to tease an old lady.
“Grace!” Danita was horrified.
“Shhhh!” ReNetta just wanted to hear the story.
“Okay, where was I?”
“You met Mr. Beckworth and decided to marry him.” ReNetta was as concise as she was curious.
“It wasn’t exactly that fast, ReNetta. He courted me for a year before he asked me to marry him.”
“And when did you?” ReNetta asked. “Marry him, I mean.”
“Not right away. I finished college first.”
“Why’d you do that? Weren’t you just going to get married and live happily ever after?”
“Well, I certainly hoped so, but I did have the good sense to know that things could happen. My father was not old when he died, remember. I think that had the most to do with my finishing my degree. I could always teach if being a wife and mother didn’t work out.”
I hesitated then. Motherhood hadn’t worked out for me. My empty womb had made me doubt myself in ways I hadn’t imagined were possible. That was another story, however, and certainly not one for young children.
“You a mother, Miz Beckworth?” Leave it to ReNetta to leave no stone unturned.
“No, ReNetta, I was never blessed with children.”
“You didn’t have no babies at all?” Grace looked at me with innocent surprise. My stomach pinched into a tiny knot.
“Not a one.” I smiled feebly and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” was Grace’s reply.
“Me, too.” I took a deep breath. “But, we were talking about silverware, not children, weren’t we?”
Grace flopped her elbows onto the table and rested her face in both hands. It gave her a comical expression with her mouth pulled into a wide flat-lipped grin and her eyes twinkling behind three rolls of cheek pushed high on her face. I laughed out loud.
“But, if I’d had a child, I’d want her to be just like you, Gracie-love.”
She wiggled happily in her seat and pushed her cheeks even higher.
“Okay, let’s see,” I searched my ever-fading memory. “Mr. Beckworth and I married in June of 1931. It was right after my graduation from Agnes Scott College in Atlanta. My mother had to plan most of the wedding without me, but that didn’t bother me a bit. I never was big on pomp and circumstance, but I’d go along with just about anything Mother said was the right thing to do.”
“What’s pop and circus hands?” Grace demanded.
“Pomp and circumstance,” I corrected. “It means fancy stuff.”
“Oh,” she sighed.
“Grace, hush!” ReNetta complained. “We’re never gonna hear this story if you keep askin’ so many questions.”
I continued, “I picked out my china pattern and a wedding dress when I was home on spring break and got home from graduation just in time to have a bridal shower and help my attendants get fitted for their dresses. Mother picked out the flowers and everything else.”
“Was it pretty?” Danita wanted to know this. Danita, the dreamer, I was coming to know.
“I thought so. But, mostly it was suitable. Suitable for a young lady from a good Southern family. The right china patterns, the right customs, the right number of bridesmaids and the right food at the rehearsal dinner. I was a suitable bride for a suitable man.”
“Sounds kinda boring to me,” ReNetta grunted.
“I honestly didn’t think so,” was my bemused reply.
“So, what’s all this got to do with silverware?” ReNetta was not going to let up at all.
“Well, the silverware was just part of the whole thing. When you got married, you had things you just did, like the things I told you about. You got fine china and your mother’s silverware pattern and you went from being someone’s daughter to being someone’s wife and then that had its own set of expectations, which you just fulfilled, same as everything else.”
“Were you happy?” Danita wanted to know.
“Well, of course I was happy,” I replied. “What’s not to be happy about?”
“You never said why you only used the silverware sometimes, though.”
“Too much work,” I replied a little too sharply.
“So how come we’re using it for Thanksgiving?” Grace quite logically asked. I sighed and shook my head.
“Some things are worth the effort,” was all I could think to say.