The younger woman felt
Her old nurse folding her manicured fingers
In the nurse’s ancient, callused hand.

Said, “your daddy was the most generous
White man I ever met. A beautiful man.”

“Was thutty years back, maybe more, he and your
Mama took me to Branson. We saw Andy Wilson.
No Williams. His name was Williams. He the one who sang
“Mos’ wonderful time o’ the year, no?”

“Now, you was a baby then, not bigger than my knee.
Back when I could stan’, that is,” the old nurse cackled
And the woman smiled. “You could say he was jus’ bringin’
Me ‘long to take care o’ you, but your daddy knew how it
Used t’ break my heart, you and me apart for any length
Of time. He knew I wanted to come in the wors’ way,
And that’s how we went.” The nurse slapped her knee
With her free hand and the cackle turned into a throaty, near
Toothless roar. “You’ daddy was a lot o’ things, but a good driver he
Wa’nt.”

I remember, the young woman said, squeezing the nurse’s palm.

“’S a long trip and we got to talkin’, your mama, daddy and me
You sleepin’ in my arms like you was my own chile. And you was you know.
I love you like I loved my own three kids. I want you to know that.”

“I always knew that,” the woman smiled. Her blue eyes pearling in the corners.

“Anyway, your daddy say, ‘where you born Ella?
And you gonna go back there
When you retire?’ and I got scaid, like he’s thinkin’
O’ firin’ me or somethin’ and your daddy sees I’m
Scaid and he say, ‘in the twenny fust century I mean.’”

“So after I laugh and catch my breath I say I was born in St. Louis
Missuh James, but I ain’t goin’ back there. If I go anywhere
-and that aint’ decided yet – I think it might be a little town
Jus’ north of the city, call Ferguson.

“And he say, ‘why there?’

“And you know, at the time, I couldn’t really answer him.
I had worked my fust nursin’ job in that town.
Cared for my fust little white babies, like you and your
Sisters. The people I worked for they were decent enough
But the town itself…”

She trailed away into her memories. The younger woman waited.

The old nurse said, “It was what they called a sundown town, back in the day.
A sundown town one of those, if you black, you could work there during
The day. You could nuss they babies and clean they floors and they houses
And drive the missus to do her shoppin’. You could do that durin’ the day
And there was no problem. But at night –“ the old nurse stopped and sighed.

“At night, you suppose to be gone and a ghost. Might as well put up a sign
No Black People Allowed. Still got those towns in Amurica, Miz Jane.”

The nurse went quiet and the woman said nothing, not knowing what to say.

“But that was back then. By the by, I hear the town mostly African-Amurican
Now, so I go back and yeah, it is ‘zactly that. And it was always a pretty
Town, befo’ these troubles and Ah know it’ll be pretty again one o’ these
Days. One of these days being who knows when, but ah know it’s comin.’
It’s always comin’, Miz Jane. One day it gonna get here.

“I wish your daddy was around
Fuh him to see I’m doin’ alright now.
Livin’ with my oldes’ son. His wife.
Takin’ care of my grandbabies like i
Take care of you and Miz Rhonda. Miz Lois.

“But I don’ want him to see me like this. Here.
I got no problem with what I done and why, but
It’s not dignified, not for me. I want him to ‘member
Me the way he always did.”

“I think he’d understand why you’re here, Ella,” the younger woman said.

“I hope so. You got to forgive my ‘pearance, Miz Jane.
The man in McDonald’s had to pour milk over my face
And eyes, get the tear gas out. It still sting, but it’s
Getting’ better. And mah hair is a mess.”

“It’s going to get much better, Ella,” the woman said.
“I just paid your bail. They’re gonna let you out. Isn’t that
Wonderful?”

“I suppose,” the old nurse said. “But I cain’t tell you
I won’ be back on the street, Miz Jane. Still a lot
I got to say and someone’s got to hear.”

“Well, let’s hope the troubles are over by then,” the
Younger woman said. “So I don’t have to get you out
Again.”

And the old nurse smiled sadly. “Ain’t a matter of
Gettin’ out, Miz Jane.

“Gettin’ out is easy. Gettin’ free is a whole nuther thing.”

08/22/2014

Author's Note: Inspired by recent events.

Posted on 08/22/2014
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch