I woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, disoriented, unaware of my surroundings. The buzzing of crickets serenaded the night air, my night gown clinging to my skin. I ran a hand through my hair, my eyes focusing in the darkness.
My heart was pounding. I blinked to steady my breathing, my nightmare still sitting on the tips of my lashes.
I was drowning in a dark sea. I was in excruciating pain, from swords slicing through my skin, ten swords to be exact. The water was painted bright red as I continued to drown deeper and deeper. Then suddenly a beam of light met my eyes, and I saw Daddy, smiling with his honey-brown eyes. I reached out for him, called for him, but the water burned my throat, the sharp ends of the swords slicing me more each time I reached out to him.
Then, I saw Clay, and a bang rang loudly in my ears.
All of this I wrote in my leather journal, an item I've had since I ran off to school. The pages withered and inked from years of expressing myself, things no one dared asked me to say, or cared enough to know. The small lamp on the end table gave the room an orange glow, not too bright but just enough to feel warm, not as dark as the fantasy of my mind.
I sighed, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling back the curtains of the canopy. The ceiling fan in the middle of the room whirred slowly, causing the wispy white curtains over my balcony window to dance and sway.
I was wearing a short nightgown still clinging to my wet skin. Even in the warm, dim yellow light, I could see the purple and blue bruises fully on my pecan thighs. These bruises sat on my upper arms and along my back, all due to Clay's rage.
A small ruckus from outside perked my ears. I walked towards the window to the Juliette style balcony, opening the doors letting in the fresh night air. The moon sat as a perfect crescent in the night sky, shining over the magnolia trees that sat on the courtyard of the hotel. The cool air felt good against my skin, my hair swaying against the small breeze. The air smelled of dew and moss.
A laugh stirred in the night air, and my eyes followed the sound, seeing two men walking across the cobblestone street of downtown towards the concrete pathway to the front door of the hotel. Both wore a dapper get up, one wearing a snakeskin patterned unbuttoned shirt and yellow britches, his hair was combed out like how happenin' brothers were wearing it these days. His comrade had his hair combed out too, wearing striped trousers and a tucked silk shirt and loafers. They both were smoking cigarettes and carrying on like people weren't sleeping this time of night. Their dark skin shimmered under the moonlight.
Still, they seemed far more classier men than the street hustlers that often scattered this time of night. But my wit kicked in, something told me deep down they could be trouble.
But so was I.
Instantly, my eyes locked with one fellow, his skin was the color of mahogany, his eyes were warm, the purest shade of brown. A smirk twitched his lips, taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Evenin'." His friend greeted, a silly grin meeting his face, "We ain't disturbin' ya are we, miss?"
"Y'all gentlemen are alright. Just wanted a bit of fresh air." I commented, before stepping from the balcony and closing the doors.
I watched the starry night sky light up to the amber glow of the early dawn, unable to fall back into my slumber. Warm showers, late-night radio and reading the hotel bible wasn't a cure for my insomnia. Most of the night, I stared at myself in the antique mirror sitting above the dresser.
I had placed my picture of Daddy and his friend there. Nana always said I was Daddy's spitting image. We both shared dark, pecan colored skin. Full lips, almond-shaped eyes. Except, Daddy had the purest orbs I'd ever seen. Honey-brown eyes that anyone could get lost in. No matter how tough and slick he talked, the window to his soul was tender. I'd like to think I had Nana's eyes, dark as whiskey, good intentions, loving.
I had been growing my hair out since I was a girl, only ever getting my ends trimmed. Daddy thought it was bad luck to cut a woman's head. My hair was long, coiled tight as it dangled past my shoulder down my back. I kept it pressed sometimes, but never got it relaxed like how Nana liked hers. I ran my fingers through it, absentmindedly.
I rummaged through the hotel dresser drawers then, the nightstand, the chest, until I found a pair of sharp scissors. Without thinking I quickly snipped at the ends, watching the bundle of long curls fall to my feet. In an instant, I felt lighter. A small weight being lifted off my shoulders. Clipping at the strays to make it even and neat, I smiled at my reflection. My hair still sat a bit past my shoulders, but I looked more mature. Different.
Weightless.
The smell of fried eggs and bacon was enough to make me dizzy as I walked down the stairs that morning. It was seven AM.
Smiling at one of the housekeepers vacuuming the rug in the lobby area, I spotted Miss Eloise sitting in an adjoined parlor are, down the hall of the lobby of the motel.
She was wearing a purple apron over a beige ensemble. The room was surrounded by windows, sunlight warming the small space, full of white tables and chairs with pale yellow tablecloths. Lime green carpet clashed with the sunny yellow, making the warm room seem like an indoor park. In the windows, you could see more trees and grassy landscape, willow trees swaying in the wind. Mayfair Motel sat on the corner of downtown Main Street, before leading the rural farmland of Eva.
There was one other guest in the hotel, it seemed, a young fellow wearing a suit like he was on business. Miss Eloise poured him a cup of coffee from a pot. A radio sat plugged in the corner of the room on an end table, the Stylistics serenading us this early morning about a growing love that you'd only ever hear in a sappy song like this.
Celia caught my eye, and the girl gave me a smile, "Good morning," she greeted loudly, like how little kids do when they're super excited about something.
The old woman turned from one of the guests and smiled at me as well.
"I was just wonderin' about you, chile," She smiled, "Come now girl, gone get you a plate to eat, you look like ya wastin' away," Eloise commented. I can't remember the last time I had actually eaten, and the aroma was making my stomach like a brass wind orchestra.
"I don't have enough money for breakfast, I was just headin' to a corner store," I commented, full ready to head out the door.
"No!" Celia whined, "Sit with me!"
Eloise shot up her eyebrows as she headed towards the kitchen. Not wanting to disappoint the girl, I walked to her table, plopping down beside Celia who had her nose in her Huckleberry Finn book.
"I told ya I'm gone take care of you, it ain't nothin' I promise you," Eloise commented on her return, placing a bowl of cheesy shrimp and grits in front of my hungry eyes.
"Nini's shrimp and grits are the best," Celia smiled, stuffing a spoonful in her chubby brown cheeks. Eloise chuckled at the young girl, kissing her forehead.
My mouth watered as the savory aroma danced in my nostrils, without debating I dug in. Eloise's eyes still held the same amount of nonjudgement and tenderness, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I would have to fess up.
"Gonna have to start lettin' people pay, Mama. That's why we ain't got no money now," A voice boomed, a man sauntering into the parlor. A man with rich dark skin, wearing gray slacks and a t-shirt, his hands in his pockets. I recognized the same light brown eyes. It was the same man from early this morning!
"Daddy!" Celia shrilled, running out of her seat and into the man's arms. He gave a million kisses to the young girl's face, lifting her up in the air before placing her on his hip.
Daddy? I stared at the two of them, the man and Celia. They resembled each other well indeed. Same dark mahogany skin, long lashes, and mischievous eyes. They both even smiled from the crooks of their mouths, showing they were nothing but trouble. He was quite the alluring character indeed, and it was no surprise that he was getting in trouble messin' around with women, devilishly handsome, tall and muscular. His arms bulged just enough from the shirt he was wearing.
But I didn't ogle, rather paying ample attention to the grits in my bowl.
"Well if it ain't my baby boy. What time did you get in last night?" Eloise questioned the man, "You gotta learn that the world don't revolve around money, Norris. Doin' the good Lord's will is more fulfilling than all the riches in the world."
"Doing good always don't pay," The man named Norris responded, Celia, nestling her head in his shoulder. His voice was baritone melting with a country twang. He dug in his slacks, pulling out a wad of money, holding it out to the old woman. I watched as Eloise's face twisted into a sour expression.
"I don't want your hustling money," she hissed, pushing past the man. I sipped at my water, cursing at myself for eavesdropping. Scraping another spoonful of grits from my bowl, I heard the man say,
"Mama, you know I'm a bartender at the nightclub, this tip money, just take it," He ushered, placing the money in the apron pocket Eloise was wearing, he kissed her cheek.
"Mm-hmm," Eloise hummed skeptically, "Let me go fix ya some coffee," she walked out the room briefly.
"Celia, go brush ya teeth and get ya schoolbooks so I can walk you to school," He told her, placing the girl down on her feet. She darted off like a rabbit out the room, her tiny feet charging down the hall.
I watched as Norris grabbed one of the chairs in front of me, facing the back of it towards me and sitting down, sizing me up again.
"You ain't up to no good," He jibed, raising a brow. I should have been offended from his comment, but I found myself smiling coyly.
"You ain't, either," I responded, raising my own brows then. His eyes seemed to flicker with amusement, but he still held a small smirk to his lips. Norris parted his lips to say something, but Eloise returned, a coffee pot and a mug in her hands.
"Don't you be harassing my guests, like you always do," Eloise warned, pouring the steaming hot coffee in the mug, placing it in front of him. He scooped a spoonful of sugar in the mug, stirring it before putting the mug to his lips. I wondered how he could stand only a small lump of sugar in the black coffee.
"We just talkin'," Norris smiled, cutting his eyes at me playfully, "Norris Mayfair," he introduced, his twang making his words sound long but also welcoming. Much stronger than my own southern belle voice I grew up with. He held out his hand to me, "Who might ya be?"
"Demetria," I simply replied, placing my hand in his callused one. He bit his lip, wrapping his fingers around mine. Something in his eyes was of a devilish flirt, but I didn't let myself get mesmerized. He held much more suspicious eyes than his mother, an appropriate apprehension to a woman like myself.
"Ain't got a last name," He questioned, "What ya runnin' from, gal? Mama told me ya walked up in here dirty looking like a lost puppy," He stared down at my hand, my wedding ring absent from my finger. His eyebrows twitched only slightly, "What's ya story?"
"Plenty stories, good long ones," I smirked towards him, not letting his mind game get to me, "But I don't go carryin' on about my business to strangers."
"My mama providin' for you a place to stay and food in ya belly," He pried, "This my family hotel, so it is my business."
I looked at Norris then, noticing the small scars that rested along his right cheek, starting from the tip of his eyebrow and stopping right below the tip of his nostril, like he got in a knife fight or a bad accident. It made him look more rugged and mysterious in a way.
Who was with this cat?
"Leave this chile alone," Eloise hissed then, "Ya need to get to fixin' room two-oh-eight like I called ya for, the faucet leakin'. And ya need to buy that nine-year-old of yours some new school clothes, she growin' like a weed," She nagged him. Norris broke his gaze from me to look up at his mother. The two of them went back and forth while I scraped the remains of my breakfast with my spoon.
"Thank you, Miss Eloise, for the breakfast," I smiled at her, reaching in my pocket and putting a few dollars on the table, staring the perplexing man in the eye, "Much oblige, Mister Norris."
Before the old woman could debate, I walked out of the room, through the lobby and outside to the busy streets. The sunlight felt good on my skin as I joined in stride with the natives here. As I walked, I felt my heart panic, knowing it was only a matter of time before I get dragged back to Montgomery. Or worse, my bad luck follows me to this town and hurt these good people. Despite it, a strange serenity also sat in me as I walked these streets. I wanted to feel guilty for the joy I felt here, but I didn't. And I prayed that this was a joy I would always feel, without worrying about answering to anybody about my happiness.
❃
A hundred dollars was all I got for pawning my wedding ring, still, it was better than nothing. I stuffed the bills in my brassier as I walked back down the sidewalk of downtown Eva.
The money would be enough to help me survive, but a game plan is what I needed, and soon. I couldn't hide here forever.
"Hey girl!" I heard a voice call, seeing Reed perched on the same corner he was yesterday, the same deck of cards in his shirt pocket. He smiled at me as he sauntered my way, taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Was' happenin' Reed," I smiled, "Can I bum one of those?"
Reed handed me a cigarette, lighting it for me.
"How ya liking the town so far? Miss Eloise been taking care of ya?"
I nodded my head, "They're nice folk, except that Norris. He seem pretty nasty."
"Nah, Norris alright! He a good cat, he just protective of his mama and babygirl, ya dig? He been through a lot, tryna get his life straight," Reed commented, then went on about a spell of others in town who he wished would get their life together.
One thing about this Reed cat, he sho'll could talk. But that left me wondering about the Mayfair Family, I wonder what their story was. The only things I ever seen negroes own were farms and corner stores, but the Mayfair's had themselves a whole motel. That left me feeling giddy. Waves of hope overwhelming my body like goosebumps.
My mind wandered to handsome, grumpy Norris. The scars in his cheek. What was his story?
I pulled my mind away from the chaos, turning and staring at Reed who was thumbing through his card deck. Something devilish came over me, and I smiled wide like a Cheshire cat.
"Hey Reed," I called, pulling his attention, "I think I'll play you in some three-card monte now."