Brick City

By Lillian M. Whitlow

Brick City is a novel that tells the hopes and dreams of Ginger, a forty-three-year-old single mother of three teenaged children: nineteen-year-old son, Ralph; sixteen-year-old daughter, Susan; and fourteen-year-old daughter, Helen. In spite of Gingers dubious past, she was able to eke out a fair living for her children. Things were going well in her household until Nick, a one-time gangster, was released from prison and arrived to collect an old debt from a longtime friend. His method of collecting left Gingers hopes and dreams shattered and the little community of Brick City devastated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514438589

Lillian M. Whitlow

Lillian Whitlow has lived in Portland, Oregon, since 1970, where she taught elementary grades and vocal music. After retirement, she began a writing career, in which she included subjects that would interest children, such as the fantasy Manny. She is now a widow and the mother of three adult children.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Lillian M. Whitlow.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015921397

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-5144-3860-2

                 Softcover         978-1-5144-3859-6

                 eBook               978-1-5144-3858-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/20/2016

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

FORTY-TWO

FORTY-THREE

FORTY-FOUR

FORTY-FIVE

FORTY-SIX

FORTY-SEVEN

FORTY-EIGHT

FORTY-NINE

FIFTY

FIFTY-ONE

FIFTY-TWO

FIFTY-THREE

FIFTY-FOUR

FIFTY-FIVE

FIFTY-SIX

FIFTY-SEVEN

FIFTY-EIGHT

FIFTY-NINE

SIXTY

SIXTY-ONE

SIXTY-TWO

SIXTY-THREE

SIXTY-FOUR

SIXTY-FIVE

SIXTY-SIX

SIXTY-SEVEN

SIXTY-EIGHT

SIXTY-NINE

SEVENTY

SEVENTY-ONE

SEVENTY-TWO

SEVENTY-THREE

SEVENTY-FOUR

SEVENTY-FIVE

SEVENTY-SIX

SEVENTY-SEVEN

SEVENTY-EIGHT

SEVENTY-NINE

EIGHTY

EIGHTY-ONE

EIGHTY-TWO

EIGHTY-THREE

Dedicated to:

Leo

Leon

Leona

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am deeply grateful to the members of my writers group, Maya Angelou Writers’ Guild, for support and encouragement; John Wolfe, O.B. Hill, Mario DePriest, D’Norgia Price, Emma Ford, Susan Banyas, and Nancy Woods.

Special thanks to Dr. Maya Angelou for permitting me to use two verses of her poem And Still I Rise.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

—Maya Angelou

And Still I Rise

image-GS.jpg

PROLOGUE

Newell, Oklahoma

World War II brought many changes to the South. Many of the poor blacks had moved to the North, because they heard things were better up there. Jobs were plentiful, and people were able to live better lives. Many families moved to Oregon to work at the Oregon Kaiser Shipbuilding Company. Others went to other major cities in the North to work in the factories. It was said that you could find an Okie in every northern city, and every city had at least two or more Oklahoma clubs.

Families and friends were separated, because of the migration, and times were hard for those who were left behind because jobs were scarce in small towns like Newell. Like most towns in Oklahoma, Newell had the poorest of the poor section of town nicknamed Brick City. The name was applied because each of the eleven shotgun houses was covered with faded imitation brick siding. Because of age and neglect, the siding had peeled away in spots, revealing the tar paper instead of the brick impression. Because of the conditions, the inhabitants were often belittled by some who could afford to live better.

Brick City was a small community directly behind Main Street where all the black-owned beer joints, taverns, and pool halls lined both sides of the street. It had beer joint back doors for their unpleasant view, and they had to tolerate the loud jukebox music, which was lively but often somber. The smell of barbecue was daily, but more prominent on weekends. Although Oklahoma was a dry state, the stench of homebrewed ales often hovered over the entire community. It was so familiar to the neighbors, that only visitors took notice.

Mr. Shipley, a tightfisted, hard-hearted white man, owned the eleven shotgun houses, which he had neglected necessary repairs for many years. When he collected the rent on the first of each month, he made feeble but friendly promises to the tenants’ complaints, but they were seldom fulfilled, and soon the complaints stopped.

The only modern facility in most of these houses was electric lights. Each of the three rooms had a light that hung from the center of the room with a long string hanging low enough to pull on and off. A few renters had gas put in their houses with an agreement from Mr. Shipley that they could keep two months’ rent for the cost of installation.

Back to back, five houses faced east, and six faced west, and each house rested on two-foot bodark stumps. With the houses facing east and west and the taverns facing north and south bordered with weeds and railroad tracks, the community formed a complete square. In the center of the square was an outside toilet made of concrete blocks. The toilet was divided into two accommodations. One side opened from the east to accommodate the renters on the east, and one entrance was for the west side. Each family had a key that hung in the kitchen on a nail low enough for children to reach in time of need.

The summer months were almost unbearable. Because each house had a tin roof that held the heat inside, for comfort in the evenings, the tenants retreated to the porches that extended across the front and the back of each house. The tenants facing the east sat on their porches in the summer evenings. They fanned and swatted mosquitoes as they talked from porch to porch.

Across the graveled road in front of their houses were modest homes close enough to holler a few hellos to neighbors who considered themselves living better.

The houses facing the west had railroad tracks and tall unsightly weeds for their view. The adults were resigned to this type of life, but the children were ashamed of their homes because they were constantly teased by some of their schoolmates who lived in better neighborhoods.

Hey, Raymond. How’s Brick City? One child would call to him.

Oh yeah, I’ll see you on Friday, and I’ll show you how it is, Raymond would reply.

At age six, settling the dispute with a fistfight was Raymond’s only solution. All the children knew what Raymond meant, and they wanted to be sure that they would be at the site of the fight. It was like a coming attraction for the little children to see and take sides by cheering their friend on until an older student came along to break up the fight.

Raymond was one of Mable’s three boys. They lived on the front facing the east, which was across the Cannon family. Mable was a short, obese, and bowlegged woman who had been born in Brick City, and her three sons, who each had a different father, were also born there.

Ginger Cannon, called Ginger by everyone, including her own children, had three teenagers. Ralph, the oldest, was nineteen and spending his second year as a senior at Booker T. Washington High School. Susan, a beautiful sixteen-year-old daughter, was a junior, and Helen, the youngest, was fourteen and in the tenth grade. The Cannons lived next door to Aunt Cindy, who was the matriarch of this tiny community and had lived there for more than forty-five years. Her son, Ben, was thirty-five years old but suffered from developmental disabilities and could barely only function at a first-grade level.

When tenants left Brick City to migrate to the North, the windows and doors were boarded up because no one dared to rent them. Susan felt that someday she might have a chance to leave Brick City too. Leaving was always on her mind. Her complexion was fairer than her siblings. Her hair was long, black, and straight and draped nine or ten inches below her shoulders. She was admired for her beauty and well-shaped body but envied by many of the students at Booker T. Washington High School.

Ralph was only five feet eight and a half inches tall, but he had a handsome face and well-trimmed body. Helen was petite with medium-length hair that had to be pressed and curled with heat.

It appeared that these three siblings weren’t fathered by the same man, but Ginger wasn’t talking, and no one dared to ask her, not even her own sister who taught school at Booker T. Washington. Ginger was dark and thirty or more pounds overweight. She was known to have a foul mouth, so people in Newell just imagined about who could have fathered her children.

Susan knew that she was racially mixed. Her schoolmates teased her constantly when she was in grade school, but the teasing ceased after she reached high school. However, she never forgot the teasing. She wanted to leave Newell when she grew up.

Brick City wasn’t a pleasant sight, but it seemed to have control over its victims—the tenants. There was a sense of hopelessness and despair because it seemed as though there was no escape. Although Susan was too young to know much about World War II, she felt its sting. The environment had a hold on her like it had on the others in that community. Helen and Ralph didn’t complain about the conditions as much as Susan because they believed that someday they would leave too.

ONE

1949

Newell, Oklahoma

Monday morning after breakfast, Susan left the cafeteria and sat on the long wooden bench in the corridor facing the front entrance. The only audible noise was the clanking of dishes as the dishwashers prepared them for washing and the custodian mopping up a spill from the already-clean polished green and white linoleum floor in the back hallway. There were two offices with glass walls in her view—the director’s office was to her right, and the receptionist’s office was fifteen feet to her left. The receptionist sat at her desk and watched Susan with some concern but was distracted when the telephone rang. Susan, dressed only in a white cotton dress and brown sandals, sat quietly as the early-morning sun beamed through the large picture windows and searched her angelic face with warmth.

I got to get out of here! she thought. They can’t keep me here! I got to get out! She rocked gently back and forth, twiddling her thumbs through her clasped hands. When the receptionist turned her back to answer the telephone, Susan slipped out of her sandals, walked quietly to the double doors, and shoved them open. She stood momentarily and looked behind her. While the receptionist was still on the telephone, Susan took a deep breath of fresh air and ran across the horseshoe driveway to the grassy lawn. If I can just make it to the gate, they’ll never catch me.

She ran faster. The wind pressed her loosely fitted dress to her slim body. Her long black hair floated and danced from her shoulders as she ran toward the chain-link fence. Halfway to the gate, she heard footsteps behind her.

Susan? the voice called.

She looked over her left shoulder and saw a large woman dressed in a green uniform chasing her. She ran faster but stumbled to her knees. She arched her body to her feet and continued to run faster. It was a warm morning, and perspiration ran down her face, which almost blinded her from her destination. When she finally reached the huge iron gate, she turned the handle, but the gate wouldn’t open.

Let me out! she screamed. She shook the handle again.

Susan? the voice called again.

Susan ran to the right of the gate and climbed the fence, grasping her toes through the openings in the fence. There was a tug at her shoulder. Her right hand slipped, and the raw edge of the fence pierced the palms of her hands. Blood ran down her elbows, but she hung on.

Don’t take me back! she pleaded. Let me go! Let me go! Her voice faded to a whisper.

Susan. Susan? Wake up! Wake up! Helen called to her.

Susan gasped for breath. She couldn’t believe she was lying in bed. She opened her eyes slowly and surveyed her familiar surroundings. How did I get back home?

Where have you been, Susan? Helen asked sarcastically as she lay beside her in their bed.

Susan was dazed. I don’t know.

You had a bad dream, Susan.

If this was a dream, it was unlike any other dream I’ve ever had. It was real. The place, the people were all so real. What happened?

What happened? Helen asked. I should be asking you. I’ve tried for the longest time to wake you, but you kept mumbling and swinging your arms about, and finally, you hit me across my stomach.

Susan struggled up and rested her head on her pillow against the iron bars at the head of their bed. Helen did likewise. I guess I was having a bad dream.

That was a nightmare, Helen said drowsily.

Susan took the part of the sheet that she held clutched in her hands and wiped perspiration from her face. The window shades were pulled high, and the moonlight revealed images about the room. She looked around but still couldn’t believe that she was there. Where are you, Helen? She patted the bed beside her.

I’m here, Susan. Are you okay? She leaned upward to stare Susan in the face.

I don’t know. Whatever it was, I know it was real, just as real as we’re here in this bed.

Helen adjusted herself. What was real?

I know I was running, and somebody was trying to catch me and make me stay in a horrible place. I was trying to get away.

Away from what? Helen grew impatient.

I don’t know, Susan said slowly. I don’t know. I know it was a big white brick building, about four or five stories tall. There were doctors and nurses in green uniforms and patients who were yelling sometimes, and some of them had to be fed by aides.

You must have been one of those patients, Susan. That sounds like a mental institution to me.

I don’t know, Susan said with some hesitation. But my mind is all right.

Sure it is, Helen said and changed the subject. I’m sure glad this is Saturday morning, so we can sleep late. I’m going back to sleep. Are you all right now?

Go ahead. I’ll stay awake for a while.

Helen eased down in the bed, turned her back to Susan, and was soon asleep. Susan continued to sit up, recalling bits and pieces of her dream. It was so real. She could still see their faces. She held her hands out in front of her to see if blood still dripped from them. There wasn’t any blood, but she could still feel the pain.

She nudged Helen in the side. You know, Helen, I don’t want to stay in Brick City all my life. I don’t want to live like this forever.

This isn’t Brick City, Susan, Helen mumbled.

I know that, but other people don’t know that.

Ah, go back to sleep, Susan, and don’t have any more of those bad dreams. We’re not going to live this way forever. You will graduate next year, and I’ll follow a year later.

Then what? Susan asked.

You’ll go to Langston University, and I’ll come on the next year. That’s the way we planned. Remember?

Sure. Ginger wants us to get an education because she didn’t, and she wants us to have a better life, Susan said.

That’s not so bad, Susan. I’m looking forward to going to college. Aunt Susan asked me to stay with her and Uncle Jacobs, and she would pay for my college.

Did she ask Ginger before she asked you? You know how those two sisters are. They seldom talk to each other anyway.

I guess Ginger will come home today, and Aunt Susan will ask her. She should have asked you to stay with her. You’re her namesake.

She did, and I didn’t want to, but we have another problem.

What’s that? Helen turned over on her back. What’s the problem?

Ralph wasn’t at school today, and Mrs. Harrison asked me about him.

That’s strange. Helen sat up. Maybe it’s about his English assignment.

No, I think it’s more than that.

Why? Helen asked.

I don’t know, but he wasn’t home when we got here today. Maybe we should call Aunt Susan.

Susan, do you know what time it is? Helen eased down in the bed again.

I’m not sleepy now.

Well, I am. I had my nightmare along with you, so I’m sleepy.

If I go back to sleep, I might have those dreams again. I don’t want to dream those dreams ever again, Helen.

Susan realized that she was talking to herself, because Helen was snoring. Helen could always fall asleep whenever she wanted to, so she closed her eyes too and tried to rest. Her fears took second place to her much-needed rest, but she went to sleep with I gotta get out of here on her mind.

The early morning passed only too quickly, and the warm sun soon awakened Susan. Helen, are you asleep?

Not anymore. She sat up and rubbed her eyed. What time is it?

Susan looked at the clock on the dresser. It’s seven. Did Ralph finally come in? she whispered.

Yeah, he came in after you went to sleep. I heard him when he opened the door quietly. He didn’t even turn on the light, Helen whispered back.

Are you going to ask him why he missed school yesterday? Susan asked.

Why don’t you ask him? Mrs. Harrison asked you about Ralph. She didn’t ask me. Helen sat on the side of the bed. I am worried because if he doesn’t graduate this year, Ginger is going to have a fit, and I don’t want to be around when that happens. This is his second year in the twelfth grade.

Well, I’m going to ask him. You don’t have to. Susan got up and retrieved her robe from her closet near the dresser. She reached in the back of the closet and got Helen’s robe and tossed it to her.

Good luck, Helen said.

You got to be there, Susan said. He’s your brother too.

But you’re older than I am, so you go first. They put their robes on and glanced at each other. Susan hunched her shoulders. I hear him. He’s up.

Go ahead, Helen urged.

Susan tapped lightly on the kitchen door that separated the two rooms. Ralph, are you up?

Just about, he replied.

Can we come in?

Sure.

Susan pushed the door open. Hi, she said cautiously.

Good morning. Why are you up? It’s still early. He pushed his cot against the kitchen wall and pulled the cover over his pillow then sat at the table. He knew that he had some explaining to do.

Well, I didn’t sleep too well. Helen and I were so worried about you. We didn’t know what had happened ’cause we couldn’t find you after school. You must have left after we got to school this morning ’cause we sure got to school together.

We sure did, Helen said in support. What happened?

Both girls sat with Ralph who sat at the head of the table. Yeah, what did happen? Susan asked.

I had to find some work to do. He held an envelope up in front of him. You know we have to pay this light bill in a few days, or they’re going to turn our lights off. Ginger’s been gone for three days now, and we don’t know when she’s coming home. You know how that is.

Yes, I do, Susan said. She pretends that she’s going to Milltown to get some cosmetics to sell from door to door, but she brings only a small bag back, so I wonder what she’s really doing when she leaves for Milltown. Susan looked at Ralph for answers.

TWO

Ralph knew the answers, but he wasn’t going to speak. I’ll always protect my little sister, he remembered saying when he was six years old. Marvin was wrong that day at school, he thought.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. While he and Marvin played marbles during recess one day, he won several of Marvin’s marbles. Marvin knew they played for keeps, but he wanted his marbles back from Ralph.

I want my marbles back, Marvin cried.

You can’t have them back. We play for keeps. These are my marbles now.

Ralph held the marbles out in front of Marvin’s face. They’re mine.

They’re not yours! Marvin shouted. Give them back to me! He kicked through the line they had drawn to aim at the marbles. Give them back.

No! They’re mine! They’re mine! Soon several of their classmates had gathered at the scene of confusion.

Marvin put his nose close to Ralph’s face, and both boys circled each other slowly before physical contact. Marvin wanted to show his classmates that he wasn’t afraid of Ralph. I want my marbles back. You think you’re bad because my mama said that your mama was a hoe.

What’s that? Ralph asked him quietly.

The other children began to giggle and jump around, whispering to one another. Say it again, some of the children encouraged Marvin.

My mama said that’s when bad women let bad men do bad things to them for money, you know. Marvin formed a circle with his thumb and middle finger on his left hand and pushed his right index finger back and forth through the circle a few times.

That’s what I mean. Your mama let men do that to her, and they pay her.

Whoooo! hollered their classmates.

Ralph knew that he had won the battle, but Marvin had won the war. They must have heard the same thing about Ginger. You’re telling a story. My mama don’t do that.

Uh-huh. My mama said your little sisters are going to be just like your mama too when they grow up. They will let men do something bad to them for money too ’cause girls will be just like their mamas, and boys will be just like their papas.

Take that back, Ralph demanded.

My mama said it, and I won’t take it back.

The two boys began to circle each other’s shoulder to shoulder. The other children began to cheer them on. Fight! Fight! Fight! they yelled.

Take it back!

Naw, I won’t!

Ralph hit Marvin on the chin, and both boys wrestled to the ground. The crowd got larger, as children ran from the swings and merry-go-round to see the fight.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Professor Jackson leaned his head out of his office window and saw the commotion and stepped outside. He was about six feet and four inches tall, and his 285 pounds presence intimidated even the older children. Ralph and Marvin stopped fighting immediately.

When Professor Jackson got to the scene, he saw Ralph and Marvin standing with their pants dirty from wallowing on the ground with scratches on their faces. Ya’ll go back to your classrooms. He waved to the other children. I’ll take care ya’ll later. Recess is over. He shook his head in disgust. Now you two just march to my office.

Professor Jackson’s voice was low, but the boys knew what he meant when he told them to march. They knew when children went inside that office for fighting, they seldom came out with a dry eye. They followed Professor Jackson to his office.

We won’t fight anymore, Professor Jackson, Ralph pleaded.

You should have thought about that before started fighting.

We’ll think about it the next time, Marvin begged.

You two fighters sit. He pointed at two chairs under the windowsill. They sat with feet barely touching the floor. You see that picture on the wall there? He pointed to a picture on the sidewall near his desk.

Yes, sir, they said in chorus.

Do you know who that is?

They glanced at each other and answered, No, sir.

Well, that’s one of the greatest fighters of all times. His name is Joe Louis. He was so good they called him the Brown Bomber. Ralph and Marvin stared at the picture, swinging their feet nervously back and forth. Now do you see that brown strap next to the Brown Bomber?

The boys began to tremble. Yes, sir.

Well, I call that my Brown Bomber because it’s never lost a battle yet. I don’t like fighting on or off these grounds. Do you hear me? He glowered.

Yes, sir, they answered quickly, tears streaming down their faces and their legs swinging vigorously.

Professor Jackson pulled up a chair in front of the boys. Now tell me what was so bad that you had to fight.

Ralph swayed from side to side nervously and muttered, Marvin called my mama a hoe.

Professor Jackson leaned toward Marvin. Do you know what a hoe is?

Marvin formed the circle with his fingers and inserted his pointer finger. My mama said it’s when a bad woman let a bad man…"

Don’t tell me anymore, Marvin, Professor Jackson said quickly. I want you to promise me something. Don’t bring anything else that your mama says about somebody’s mama. Do you hear me?

Yes, sir.

And, Ralph, you can’t fight every time someone says something that you don’t like. If you do that, you’ll fight every day. You don’t want to do that, do you?

No, sir. Ralph looked at Marvin for agreement, wishing that they could get a reprieve from Professor Jackson’s wrath.

Joe Louis fought people he liked. It’s a sport sometimes. He didn’t fight them because they said something he didn’t like. He got paid for fighting. When he fought, it was called boxing. Professor Jackson noticed the minor scratches on both of their faces.

I don’t think either one of you is ready for that yet. From the looks of both of you, I don’t think you will ever make good boxers. Now I’m going to let you go this time.

Ralph and Marvin jumped from their chairs and rushed toward the door.

Wait a minute, Professor Jackson said. The boys stopped and stood like statues.

He walked behind his desk and wrote a note to their teacher. Now who’s going to take this note to your teacher?

They looked at each other in doubt. After all, they didn’t know what the note said.

This note says that ya’ll can come back to class. You see, recess is over. I told your teacher that you were here with me. That’s what on this note.

I’ll take it, Professor Jackson, Ralph said. The note sounded rather friendly to him.

Don’t forget what I said about fighting. If you do, you will meet my Brown Bomber.

Yes, sir, they said in chorus and trotted out of the office.

Professor Jackson looked out of his window with a smile as the boys walked hand in hand to their classroom.

When school was out, Ralph grabbed his reader, speller, and pencil and ran along the tracks all the way home. He pushed the front door wide open with all his might and slumped in the first chair he reached, panting for breath. He didn’t notice his little sisters in the middle of the floor playing with their paper dolls.

Ginger heard the commotion. She had come home early during the day. She dropped the dish towel and rushed to the front room. Ralph, what’s wrong with you? Why were you running? Who’s after you?

Nobody.

What happened to your clothes? She sat and pulled him to her. Tell me. Who’ve you been fighting with?

Marvin.

Marvin? I thought you two were best friends.

We’re still best friends now.

Well, best friends don’t fight. Why were you fighting?

Ralph hesitated. He knew that Ginger would be angry because Marvin’s mother called her a bad name, and she might get mad at him for saying a bad word. He began to cry. His mother said something bad about you, Ginger. I told Marvin that he was telling a story. That it wasn’t true. His mama said that Helen and Susan were going to be just like you when they grow up because girls are like their mamas, and boys are like their papas.

What did his mother say? she urged.

She said you were a hoe.

Ginger was speechless. She sat back in her chair. I’m surprised to hear that, Ralph. I thought Mrs. Charles was a nice person. We talk about you boys being friends whenever we see each other on Three D Corner and at the grocery store. I didn’t know she thought that about me. Now the word is whore, Ralph, not, hoe. But don’t you believe a word of it. Look at me. She held him gently by the shoulders. Do you understand?

Yes, ma’am.

How could she say such a thing? Ginger shook her head. How could she say such a thing? Your mama is not a whore, and your sisters are not going to be whores either. They’re going to grow up and be good women.

Yes, ma’am.

Well, I don’t want to hear of you fighting. Do you hear me? Wash your face and put on some clean clothes.

Yes, ma’am.

Ginger knew that she had to change her lifestyle in Newell. Going to the barbershops and meeting men at the taverns on Main Street had to stop. The children were growing up, and the grown folks were talking. It was then that she decided to take her business to Milltown, and no one in Newell would know what she was doing. After all, she had three children to raise by herself, and there was only one way she knew how to make money. She got up from the table, reached into Ralph’s closet near the door, and got some overalls. Here, Ralph, put these on. You can keep that shirt on ’cause it’s not too dirty. It’s just your pants that need changing.

Yes, ma’am. He reached for the overalls.

THREE

Although Marvin and his family had moved to California the next year, Ralph still remembered what Marvin had said about Ginger and about Susan and Helen. I will put food on the table and pay the bills if I have to as long as I can keep my sisters from that kind of life. He kept that promise in his mind. No matter what it takes, I’ll not let them do bad things to get money. Ralph knew what Ginger was doing, but he wouldn’t tell Susan and Helen.

You shouldn’t have to take care of the family, Ralph. That’s Ginger’s job. You’re already two grades behind in school because you’re working when you should be in school, Susan said. I know Mrs. Harrison. She has something else on her mind, and I don’t think it’s good news.

I think I know what she wants, and I got it.

Got what? Susan asked.

My homework for Monday.

If you weren’t at school Friday and didn’t do the work for that day, why should she be concerned about your homework for Monday, Ralph? She looked at Helen.

Yeah, that’s what I say, Helen said.

Ralph sat silently. He squinted his brows and dropped his head in his hands. He was nineteen and looked twenty-five. The burden of the family had taken a toll on his handsome face. Since the age of thirteen, he had taken care of most of the family’s financial responsibilities. There was always some work around town that he could do, and school became secondary to him.

I still don’t understand why you left school, Ralph, Helen finally said. You know that Ginger wants us to be together. We leave home together, and we come back together, and when you leave school to work sometimes, you should let one of us know. But yesterday you just left and didn’t say anything to anyone.

Ralph stood and leaned to the center of the table, resting his clenched hands on the table. We need the money. Our lights will be turned off if we don’t pay.

When? Susan asked.

By next Tuesday. That’s three days from now.

That’s Ginger’s job. She’s our mother. That’s her responsibility, not yours, Helen said.

That’s true, but I can’t tell that to the light company.

Well, I hope the cosmetics she sells from door to door in Milltown are doing some good, and I hope that’s all she’s selling.

Susan, you shouldn’t say that about Ginger. I don’t mind helping out. We don’t have a father like most of the other children, so it’s my duty to help. Ralph’s voice broke and nearly faded away. If I don’t make it through school, you and Helen can make it.

Helen, usually more vocal than Susan, dropped her head and remained quiet. She noticed that tears had welled up in Ralph’s eyes. He seldom cried. It’s all right, Ralph, Helen said. We can help too. If we have to go back to using coal oil lamps, I don’t mind.

Well, I do! Susan snapped. And, Ralph, you need to wake up. Just look at us. We don’t have the same father. We’re not full brother and sisters. Why wouldn’t I think that Ginger is doing something wrong?

You don’t know if we have the same father or not. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, Susan, Ralph said. He unclenched his hands. We’re still brother and sisters. Nothing is going to ever change that, and I still think it’s my duty to help out. I know I should be in school, but I can’t always be there. I told you all I got my homework done for Monday. I think that’ll satisfy Mrs. Harrison.

How did you know you had homework?

Bob told me.

Helen and Susan looked at each other with raised eyebrows. You mean the Bob Walden? The stuck-up one? Susan asked.

You got him all wrong, Susan. But yes, he told me. After I got through cleaning the two hotels on Three D Corner and Jackson Street, I stopped by Walden’s Grocery Store to talk to Mr. Walden about working in the store after school and on weekends. Bob saw me and told me about the homework that Mrs. Harrison had assigned. I got all five pages. I did it over at the store.

I hope you’re right, Susan said.

I know I am, and I’m staying in school from now on.

I hope so, Ralph. If it’s more than just your homework, you’re going to be in big trouble with Ginger, Helen said.

It won’t come to that, Ralph assured her. I know what I’m doing. He got up from the table, walked over to the small mirror hanging beside the kitchen sink, and brushed his hair.

Now where are you going? Susan asked.

Walden’s Grocery. I’ll eat something there, Ralph called as he left.

The girls sat quietly for a while. Mrs. Harrison doesn’t want Ralph’s homework. She wants to know why he skips school so much. He just might not graduate again this year.

Well, let’s don’t think about it until Monday, Helen said.

Susan shrugged her shoulders. All right. We’ll see.

Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough for Ralph. He rolled off of his cot and eagerly washed up and dressed for school. Since Bob helped him with some of his assignments, he felt pleased about his homework and was sure Mrs. Harrison would be pleased too.

Susan and Helen soon joined Ralph in the kitchen. The kitchen was always the meeting place in the morning and the meeting place after school. There was only one wash pan, and each had to wait his or her turn. The final part of the ritual was to sit to a bowl of cold cereal and milk, and they were off to school by eight forty-five.

You forgot to tell me something yesterday, Susan, Ralph said between bites.

Bob said you’ve been nominated May Day Queen for the junior class.

Yeah, Susan answered dryly.

Is that all you’ve got to say is, ‘yeah’?

Don’t get too excited about it because I’m not. I don’t think I’m going to accept it.

Why not? Helen asked.

"Because I thought