Typewriter Emergencies May 2017

myself here.” She straightened her back
and her paws clenched. I do the same
thing: clench mine so my claws dig into
my palm pads to keep me from doing
something rash.
“Momma, you can’t just come here
and begin ordering me around! And hitting
my friends!”
“Girl, I didn’t expect you to graduate
from one of the top Negro high schools
before you decided to run off to another
state just so you could take up with some
Anglo bootlegger!”
My daughter looked stunned. Her batlike
ears stood straight.
“How did you know about his--occupation?”
“Elspeth told me.” I said.
Stacey sat down. “Damn her.” she
muttered.
“And I suppose you learned that from
him?”
“Elspeth is a gossip! A silly idiot!”
Stacey jumped up and growled, “She
had NO RIGHT to tell you! Only I-”
“And when were you going to tell
me?” Now I was growling, I was so hot.
“When this man was finished with
you? I know his type. Lots of women!
Can chat gravy off a bone! You his first
Negro or has he tried out others before?”
“That’s a cruel thing to say, Mother! I
know he looks like a brute but he’s-”
“I’m ‘Mother’ now? That man IS
a brute! Talkin’ ‘bout how he’d like to
break your neck! How long’s this been
going on? Because when his type gets
you in the family way, as his type will,
and they leave you high and dry, as I
know he will, what were you gonna do?”
“That-that wouldn’t happen.” Stacey
said quietly. I watched the inside of her
ears become pinker.
“You were going to STOP what God
intended between a man and a woman,
and you ‘a grown woman’ after all! You
said so yourself!”
We heard knocking. Stacey remained
where she stood and fidgeted.
“Aren’t you going to get that door?”
I asked.
***
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