The Ice and the Wave

June, 1931

“[T]here was this boy that they wanted and they put his name in and he got it.”

Mina smiled. She knew that no one got higher marks than she did. She didn’t keep up with her classmates’ grades. She didn’t need to. After all, Mr. Henries didn’t ask anyone else to check his proofs when he wrote them on the board – only Mina. And last year, when Mrs. Shelton was absent over and over again, Principal Barnes asked Mina to substitute. No one could get over that – a student, the substitute? The one who really couldn’t get over it was Thomas Fries. From probably the only family in Georgetown that had a social standing similar to the Tillmans’, Thomas thought he was the king of the world. Mean like Mina’s older sister Jeanne, but actually smart. And a boy. If Mamma had her pick, she probably would have picked Thomas for Mina, but Mamma didn’t get to pick. And Mina had already chosen Jero.

Jero was tall, tall. And dark. And sweet. When Mina was with Jero, she felt as if he surrounded her with an invisible wall – no one could touch her, no one could hurt her. Though she was almost six months older than him, he towered over her, and when he looked down at her

lovingly, he seemed to look straight into her soul… and see something. Whatever it was, it must have been the opposite of what Mamma saw when she looked at Mina. Lately, it seemed like whatever Mamma saw in Mina caused her mother to struggle with something inside herself, then harden. She didn’t understand it, and after this long, Mina no longer wanted to.

Principal Barnes stood in the pulpit. The church sanctuary provided more space than the biggest room at the school, and Mina was pleased at the chance to stand in front of everyone she knew on such a grand stage as the high school valedictorian. They would see the principal commend Mina – Mamma, Daddy, Jeanne, and even Jero. Mamma could give Jero the cold shoulder in her home, but she couldn’t stop him from coming to the church. His shirt and shoes may have been more worn than those of the other congregants, but Mina didn’t mind. To her, he was perfect. Principal Barnes continued to speak about the importance of learning and being a good citizen. Mina looked down at her dress, smoothing it a little. Mamma had finished Mina’s white dress two weeks before and made sure it was carefully pressed for the night. While her mother made the majority of her children’s clothes, Mina was a bit surprised by the amount of time and detail Mamma put into Mina’s dress. The whole time she was working on it, though, the number of demands Mamma heaped on Mina seemed the same as ever – maybe they even increased a little. Mamma worked hard on Mina’s dress, making sure the hem was just so and the length was exactly right, all while commanding Mina around as usual.

Mina tried to sneak a peek at her family. She knew her parents were in the church somewhere, along with Jeanne and the boys. Mina smiled when she thought of her brothers, though she couldn’t see them in the crowd. Mischievous, rough and tumble, prone to make anyone the victims of their pranks or the butts of their jokes, Mina adored them. They warmed the house perpetually made cool by her mother and older sister, which was a responsibility that her father didn’t deign to take on. Of her brothers, Buddy was her favorite: he loved to joke and play as much as the others, but he was more attuned to Mina than they were. He’d stand by her side, touching her shoulder in times when Mamma’s harsh reprimands made her sad. He’d share a giggle with her when one of their baby sisters did something funny, then he’d be gone. Off to

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play outside or get into trouble somewhere. He was only ever around for a moment, but that moment was enough.

Principal Barnes finally stopped pontificating. The crown fidgeted in their seats for a moment, then held still, sensing the shift in the program.

“And now it is time to announce Howard High School’s valedictorian and salutatorian – the students with the highest and second highest average in the school.”

Mina quickly scanned the room behind her one last time, and then she saw them: her sister and brothers, looking bored and barely tolerating the hard pews; her father, his characteristically lofty expression firmly in place; and Mamma. Mina couldn’t decipher what her mother was feeling. Her eyes were the closest to dancing that Mina had ever seen. Maybe this was what Mamma looked like when she was happy.

On the afternoon Mamma finished Mina’s dress, Mina had been in the family room, scrubbing the floor. Mamma’s eyes danced then in almost the same way they were dancing now, Mina realized. Mina had stood at her mother’s approach.

“I have news.”

“Yes, ma’am?” Mina responded, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic excitement in her mother’s voice.

“Your uncle said that you could go live with him after you graduate.” “Ma’am?” Mina was confused.

“To be a doctor. He’ll take you in so you can train to be a doctor up North. In Philadelphia.” Mina didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

“Did you hear what I told you, gal?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I don’t –” Mina stopped. This was the longest conversation Mina had with her mother in months, ever since Mamma had talked with Mary Emile about her son Jero. Mina did not want to say anything that would jeopardize the conversation’s continuing; she cherished the fact that her mother was actually talking to her rather than ordering her to do yet another chore around the house. Still, she was confused.

“I don’t want to be a doctor,” Mina began again, softly.

“This is a privilege, Mina,” Mamma replied, quickly stern. “What you want isn’t important. It’s about what you can do. What you can be.”

“But I don’t want to be a doctor. I want to be a mathematician.”

Mamma scoffed, looking at the bucket of soapy water and scrub brush as if they were somehow predictors of Mina’s fate – a prince-less Cinderella that couldn’t even rescue herself.

“And where do you want to be a mathematician? Here?”

That’s exactly what Mina had in mind, but recognized the question as a rhetorical one. She stayed silent.

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“Won’t have any job besides teaching in that high school? Never going anywhere? Never doing anything else?” Mamma seemed to get angrier with each question. Mamma had never

mentioned these medical ambitions for her daughter before, and Mina could not understand her mother’s anger now.

“Is it because of that boy?” Mamma hissed. “He’ll keep you here, won’t do nothing but bring you down to the dirt!”

The sudden mention of Jero put Mina’s mouth on the defensive before her brain even realized it. “He will not! I love him!” Mina whispered more than spoke her assertion. She already felt weary from an argument that they hadn’t yet had, though it had long been under the surface, poisoning everything.

“Love? What will love do for you? For your children?” Mamma seemed to be begging now. It unnerved Mina, her mother’s pleading for children that Mina never intended to have. She understood one thing, however: her mother was asking Mina to do something she could not do. “I – I can’t.” Mina was begging now, too. She would do anything for her mother, anything at all. Except leave Georgetown.

Mamma dropped Mina’s hand and held her daughter’s gaze for a moment. The tears that had formed in Mamma’s eyes seemed to evaporate from them, as did any expression. She turned and walked out of the room.

Mina shook the memory from her mind. Principal Barnes was glancing over to the teachers that flanked him on his left and right. They smiled their approval of what was coming: they already knew. Principal Barnes’ eyes swept the sanctuary. All of Negro Georgetown was in the room, it seemed. Mina took another look around to see if she could spot Jero.

“I am pleased to announce that Howard High School’s valedictorian for the year one thousand, nine hundred and thirty-one –” he paused for effect, “ – is Thomas Fries. Our salutatorian is Mina Tillman.”

Mina remained in her seat, frozen. The initial smattering of applause, immediately followed by a heartier offering, indicated that the audience was as surprised as she was. Her classmates on either side had to poke Mina out of her frozen state. Once in the pulpit, Mina, dazed, shook the hands of her teachers and principal. She looked out into the smiling crowd, who now began the speculative whispering that was bound to happen. They were still clapping, albeit distractedly. Then Mina spotted Jero at the back of the church, by the large doors. He was beaming broadly, his clapping resounding in the large hall, and all the way to her. She smiled shyly in response. Mina turned to follow a smug Thomas Fries off the stage when she caught her mother’s eye. There was glimpse of the fire in them, then they cooled, turned to ice. Those eyes told her that she had done something wrong, but Mina did not know what it could have been. Mina was sure she was the rightful valedictorian: though generally neck and neck in school, when one ever bested the other, Mina was the victor, not Thomas. And no one called upon Thomas to substitute anything. Thomas was an intelligent young man, but he was no Mina. Everyone knew that.

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Mina noticed that the audience’s applause, while fading, was not as distracted as it had been. She surveyed the room again and saw that the men who filled the room – men she had known her whole life — looked content and assured, as if all were still right in the world. At first glance, their wives did, too, but they allowed their eyes to scream their disappointment. Mina didn’t realize it until that moment, but those women had been counting on her. Somehow, she had let them down.

Thomas Fries was a man. Mina, no matter how brilliant, was not. She thought that the principal’s naming Thomas as the valedictorian had been a mistake. Maybe it hadn’t been. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Mina received her diploma and was sure her classmates leaned over to congratulate her a time or two. She must have offered kind words as well, but Mina’s mind was on her mother’s displeasure. She dreaded going home, not for fear of reproach, but for fear that the distance that seemed to lay between them would widen into a chasm that could neither be explained nor remedied. Mina wanted desperately to fix both what happened and what was coming, but she didn’t know how.

After a benediction of sorts, the beaming graduates stood and began hunting for their families. Mina turned toward where her family had been seated. She saw the boys fussing over

something, shoving each other. Daddy was shaking hands with friends and admirers alike, while Jeanne remained in her pew, sulking and cutting her eyes at Mina. Mina narrowed her eyes at Jeanne in silent retort, then looked around for Mamma. But her mother was already gone.

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April, 1938

“I guess in my– coming up in Georgetown, like I said, he was working all the time. Even when he came here [pause] he was working, so we didn’t have that kind of relation…relationship – at least I didn’t.” Sometimes Sonny held on to her hand. Sometimes he let go, doing a quick one-legged hop around Mina before grabbing hold again. His parents were quiet. Only the sound of cicadas, the breeze in the grass and their shoes kicking up the dust on the road.

Jero thought he could smell the rain coming, but he wasn’t sure. They certainly needed it.

Even at that age, Sonny knew that taking his little dancing steps around Jero would be a bad idea. His father’s brooding took up all the air around them, even though they were outside. Jero

seemed to be contemplating everything – the clouds, the grass, the road. Occasionally, his eyes would rest on Sonny, as if the boy were a puzzle that Jero had almost figured out.

Mina broke the silence. “She’s gonna say something about this, you know. Mamma. You always going off all the time. Folks talk.”

“Don’t care about folks. You know that.” Jero sounded at once tired and already far up the road. Gone. “We need money. You got money?”

“I can get money,” Mina replied, though she didn’t seem to believe herself. “Teaching… the government…”

Jero stopped in his tracks and abruptly turned to face his wife. Mina and Sonny almost bumped into him. “Teach if you want to, but ain’t nobody asking for a handout. Nobody.”

Generally, Jero’s size was the only power he needed behind his words, so the entire Georgetown community knew him to be calm and gentle, respectful in his speech. The fire in his voice now quieted his wife and cowed his son.

Jero turned back around and continued walking. “They only give that to White women, anyway. As for your mother...” He let the sentence die on its own. The three walked in silence the rest of the way. Sonny stopped his dancing.

The bus depot wasn’t actually a depot. A long, clean bench on this side of the grocery store, the sign was the only indication that a bus would consider stopping there at all. Jero, Mina and Sonny were the first to arrive; it looked like everyone else decided to take the Monday after Easter off. Jero hoped that the folks in Conway would want their Easter finery cleaned and pressed for storage now rather than putting it off until his fellow pressers came back to work. The bus rolled off the main road and up to the store, and Jero was sure then that he could smell rain now. He touched his wife’s hair for a moment, intently studying a curl as if it held the secret of the rain to come. He broke his gaze to pick up his bags. He stood for the bus’s approach. At that moment, Sonny remembered there was a pie awaiting them at Mamma’s house. He hopped off the bench and grabbed Mina’s hand. “Mina! Could we have some pie at Mamma’s?”

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Sonny more felt the world swivel around him than saw it. Suddenly, he was facing Jero, who was down on one knee, both hands on Sonny’s shoulders. Mina remained on the bench. Jero’s bag stood guard.

“From now on, call her ‘Mother.’ You hear? Mother.” There was no fire in Jero’s voice this time, but it was firm. Mina moved toward them. She knew that this exchange had little to do with her or her name, really.

Mina took Sonny’s hand as Jero bent to embrace her for a moment. He whispered something to her that their eldest couldn’t hear, then quickly boarded the bus. Mother and son watched Jero move to the back of the bus, though the front seats were empty. Mina silently nodded her approval of her husband’s choice: better to save oneself the trouble later.

The driver had never even turned off the engine, and as the bus lumbered back onto the road and in the opposite direction from home, Mina momentarily looked as one jilted at the altar – furious and embarrassed at a world present to witness her grief, then resigned to the unexpected absence. Mina and Sonny headed in the opposite direction. Another week Jero would be gone, and Mina wasn’t sure who he’d be staying with or what he’d be eating. Though they were going home, Mina wasn’t sure what she and her kids would be eating for the week, either. The babies were at Mamma’s with her sisters tonight, though, so she and Sonny and the babies would probably stay there to eat before going home. After Larry was born, everyone was so tickled that Mina had two red-headed babies, it felt a little easier to be in Mamma’s house, the Big House, again. At least Mamma spoke to her now, and no one asked why Mina and the children were at the house so often, having dinner and supper there before going home.

Mina wasn’t going to delude herself: Mamma hadn’t forgiven or forgotten. She was waiting for Mina to admit that marrying Jero and having his children had been a mistake. That not going North to be a doctor had been a mistake. That having so many babies she had to quit teaching had been a mistake. Mamma didn’t know that what she was waiting for would never come, but Mina was fine with letting Mamma think it would, if she and the children could eat, no questions asked.

The sun was low in the sky. Mina grabbed Sonny’s hand and walked a bit faster so they could beat nightfall. Her mind moved back to government assistance and how she could get some. Mina would not bring up the subject to her husband again; after all, he wasn’t there to make sure they ate every day. She was. What Jero didn’t understand was that there is always shame in